The Talisman War Box Set

Chapter 17

Dakota ate dinner with what remained of the family: Eleanor, Lorna, and Emily. He kept to himself unless they addressed him. Eleanor expressed surprise that he hadn’t tried to fight them on going with Terrell and Eddie, but he said his wrist still hurt from yesterday, and he was pretty tired. Not necessarily a lie, though he couldn’t be certain why he stayed behind, either. Maybe he feared meeting up with that sadist again. Or if Terrell was going to be in danger, perhaps he didn’t want to witness it.

Or maybe he just needed a break. He put in his fair share of work on everyone’s behalf yesterday. He earned some time off. If he had his way, he would spend the rest of the night curled up in bed with one of Terrell’s notebooks—in lieu of having the man himself—until he passed out. Preferably once he knew Terrell was safe and sound.

Before that happened, the women put him on horse-feeding duty. He performed the chore as quickly as possible without skipping or short-pouring any of the animals. On his way back, for his own piece of mind, he did an arc across the front of the property, looking for any signs that their would-be attacker had returned. Satisfied, at least for now, he headed up to the house, confirmed the horses were all happy, and then climbed the stairs to his room.

A text message waited for him on his neglected cellphone, which sat on one of the nightstands. He bit into his lip. With no one around to see him rush over to it, he didn’t have to modify his behavior to save face. He crossed the distance at record speed and accessed the device. He held his breath.

“We think the guy is here, but we can’t get to him. Too much security, and no one will talk to us. Me and Eddie got a motel room. It’s gross, and it doesn’t have you. But I can’t drive her truck, and she says she’s too tired. We’re not gonna attempt a second try. See you tomorrow morning.”

At the risk of waking him up, Dakota decided to send a response. With a bit of fumbling, he typed out a careful message. “I’m glad you’re ok. Wish you were here.”

Dakota settled into bed with a notebook—the talisman encyclopedia. Several minutes passed before he received a reply. “I’d say I wish you were here, too, but this place is awful. Somebody’s got the TV blaring in the next room. And the walls are REALLY thin.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Spanish variety, I think, or a sitcom. Something with a lot of canned laughing.”

He couldn’t help but snicker. Terrell sounded miserable, but Dakota was sure he could help cheer him up. “That’s terrible! Can’t you summon a bunch of angry falcons on them or something? If they b***h about all the clawing and pecking, just tell them you need your f*****g beauty rest.”

“Ha ha! Lanie would smack me upside the head if I did that. And she hits hard, man. She doesn’t hold back.”

Taking a risk, he typed, “What, you can’t just play the disability card? I think you should definitely use that more.”

“You think? Okay. My leg hurts. Send me a dirty picture. Of yourself. Preferably without much clothing on. I’m sure that’ll make it feel much better!”

“Oh, you asshole,” he spoke to the phone, knowing Terrell couldn’t hear him. But he deserved that, didn’t he? Joking about something so serious. And he set himself up for it. Anyway, he could think of no easier way to cheer Terrell up. With a sigh, he switched on the camera and began taking a series of pictures. The first was his face, with a goofy, semi-seductive expression, as a teaser. Then, he walked the phone down his bare chest and stomach, stopping every few inches. When he got to his waistline, he took one boring picture of him in a pair of boxers. The final one required lifting up the waistband and snapping a revealing photo of everything that lay beneath.

After checking the images for quality, Dakota sent each one, in order, with about fifteen seconds of lag between them.

“You’re awesome,” Terrell sent eventually. “I hate you, and you’re awesome.”

“Just make sure your cousin doesn’t see that!” After a moment to think it over, he kept typing. “Or what it does to you! I think she’s seen enough.”

“Ha ha, it’s safe. Thanks for cheering me up.”

Dakota smiled down at the device. “You’re welcome. Good night, Terrell.”

“Good night!”

* * * *

Curled up in an old chair by one of the front windows, Dakota waited for them to come back. He brought one of the notebooks with him—the historical, scientific-sounding one—and pretended to study it. But worry placed him near the door. He sat there all morning and the beginning of the afternoon, looking up at the window every few minutes for any sign of their return. He read a passage about slavery and hurricanes three times without really absorbing it until he heard the echo of snow boots on the front porch.

It took willpower not to dart up from his chair. f**k, he felt pathetic. They barely knew each other and only had s*x once. Maybe Terrell’s writings—beautiful as they were—helped things along. That, and his persistent kindheartedness. But it seemed so sudden and strange. Dakota hated feeling anything if he didn’t have to, and now? He practically embraced an infatuation. Or the kind of worry shown by people in relationships for years.

Not days.

Regardless, he really, truly wanted nothing more than to grab Terrell the moment he got in the door. To touch him. To show him how much he cared about his wellbeing.

When Terrell shuffled in, Dakota chose instead to smile up at him. “‘Bout time!”

“Sorry we’re late. A truck jackknifed on Route 15. You weren’t worried, were you? My phone died, and I forgot the charger.”

Texting back and forth last night drained the battery, Dakota thought. “No, just bored,” he lied. “Welcome back.”

Terrell limped over to him. The bad sleeping arrangement and excessive walking must have hurt him severely. In pain, he clenched his jaw. Dakota stood up and crossed the remaining few steps. Embracing him, he supported enough of Terrell’s weight to provide some relief. “You should sit down. I got you.”

He accepted the offer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me.”

“Maybe.”

Gripping Dakota by his collar, Terrell pulled him down for a kiss. “I wish I had something to report. If he was at the hospital, we couldn’t get near him.”

“Plan B, then,” he responded quickly. “We find someone who can help us.”

“Yeah.”

Taking a step back, “Can I—uh—can I get you something?”

He smiled. “Sure, if you want. I think there’s an ice pack in the freezer or a bag of peas or whatever.”

Turning on one heel, Dakota walked into the kitchen. He found Eleanor seated at a small table. She watched him intently as he rooted through the freezer for something cold to put on Terrell’s leg. As he located a blue icepack and then a towel to wrap around it, she cleared her throat. “Is that for Terry?”

“Yeah.”

“He could get it himself.”

Dakota flinched. “He’s in pain.”

“He’s always in pain. You shouldn’t baby him. It can’t be healthy for you to be his nurse and his boyfriend at the same time.”

He snorted. “Look, I’m sure you mean well, but he doesn’t ask anything of me. I care about him, so I’m willing to care for him. It’s that simple.”

“He’s a lot stronger than he lets on,” she insisted. “Terrell doesn’t need anyone.”

Dakota quoted a poet instead of using his own words: “No man is an island.”

He tried to leave the room with his prize in hand, but her voice stopped him. “Some time, when you’re up to it, ask him about the six pins in his good arm. Ask him how he got those.”

Whatever she meant by that, he didn’t know, nor did he want to. Terrell could mention it on his own time if he so desired. Or not. It didn’t seem important. He left the room and brought the treatment to him.

In turn, Terrell pulled off the defensive talisman and passed it to Dakota. “I think this is yours.”

He donned the necklace gladly. “Did you want to go over your notes or something?” Any excuse for some private time together.

“Definitely! Do you think there’s anything we could use?”

“Probably. I don’t know if I’ve ever read something so detailed before. Can you climb upstairs?”

“I think I can make it.” Terrell slowly rose to his feet. He tucked the compress under one arm while he used the cane with the other.

“I can’t believe you wrote all that. It must’ve taken you forever.”

He laughed. “It did.”

Dakota caressed the side of his neck.