Split(103)

“Explain.”

“They call it dissociative identity disorder.” I tilt my head to peer up at him and find him intently focused on me. “One body, multiple personalities.”

He blinks and shakes his head. “So Lucas . . .”

“Lucas is the main identity. He’s the one you know, the artist, the quiet man you hired.” I clear my throat. “Gage is the other.”

“It has a name?”

“Not an it, Dad. A who. And, yes, Gage is Lucas’s protector. He surfaces when Lucas is in a situation he can’t handle emotionally.”

“He violent?” There’s panic in his voice.

“He’ll protect Lucas at any cost. I’ve seen him angry and he’s threatening, but at the heart of Gage is Lucas, so—”

“Lucas wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Exactly.”

He runs two hands through his salt-and-pepper hair, and the worry in his eyes makes him look older than his fifty-five years. “Poor kid.”

I lean over and squeeze my dad’s shoulder. “We’re the only family he has now and I refuse to let Trevor exploit him when he’s finally found a home. A place where he belongs.”

“You trust him, Shy?”

“With my life.” Although maybe not so much with my heart.

“All right.” He stands and tosses his empty bottle into the trash. “Only known the kid for a few months, but he’s given me no reason not to trust him. That says a lot seein’ as that Trevor guy makes my skin crawl just standing in the same room with him.”

“I need to go talk to him, Dad. Things between us are . . . in a way they’re . . .”

“You two been dating?”

“Yeah.”

He nods. “Let’s go to the river house, make sure things are okay with Lucas.”

“Dad—”

He holds up a hand. “I’ll give you guys space, but after hearing all this I need to see the boy for myself.”

“’Kay.”

He grabs his keys and I snag my coat before heading out to my dad’s truck. It’s so cold out I can see my breath, but seeing Lucas again has me sweating with nervousness. What if Gage is there? How will my dad react? I exhale and climb into the truck, hoping that Lucas has proved himself enough that my dad will accept Gage just as easily.

We head down the dirt road that leads to the river house in silence. My mind mulls over what needs to be said, as well as the things Lucas and I need to talk about in private.

“Whoa!” My dad slams on the brakes, sending a plume of dirt into the air.

“Buddy?” The brown and white dog is pacing in the middle of the road. “What’s he doing?” I hop out and cautiously approach him. “Hey, Bud.” He looks up at me with his sad doggie eyes. “Everything okay?” He goes back to pacing. I turn back to my dad and shrug, then walk the rest of the way to the A-frame house. Once the place comes into view, I squint at what looks like a dark vehicle parked close to the water’s edge.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” I take off running, and Buddy barks, chasing after me. I faintly register the sound of my dad’s truck door slamming and as my foot hits the bottom step of the porch, two arms wrap around my waist from behind.

“Shy, calm the hell down,” my dad growls in my ear. “Don’t go storming in there with guns blazing.”

My breath hits in sharp bursts, but he’s right. I hate that Trevor got to him before we did, but I need to calm down. “Okay, I’m good.”

My dad releases me and I take a calming breath but notice Buddy is back in the middle of the road, staring out into the trees.

Together we climb the few steps up to the porch and my dad knocks on the front door. “Lucas! Son, you in there? Open up!”

“Help!”

“Shut up!”

Two male voices.

Shit!

My dad pulls me behind him and pushes open the door. “What the hell . . .?”

I peek around and there, in the middle of the living room, is Trevor. He’s sitting on a chair, his arms pulled behind his back and secured with duct tape, his ankles the same.

“Nash, please, call the police!” Trevor’s voice is weaker than I’ve ever heard it.

“I am so . . .” Gage is sitting in the corner, his knees cocked, forearms resting on them, his hair loose and wild, hanging over eyes that are glaring at me. “Disappointed.”

“Lucas—”

I grip my dad’s biceps. “That’s Gage,” I whisper.

Gage chuckles. “I cannot believe you’d be attracted to a man like this.” He motions to Trevor, disgust twisting his gorgeous face. “He’s already cried twice.” A maniacal laugh bursts from his lips. “I don’t even have a weapon!”

My dad steps deeper into the room, closing the door behind us. He stares between Trevor and Gage but finally addresses Gage. “What’s going on, son?”

Gage’s eyes flicker with emotion at the fatherly tone in my dad’s voice. “Mr. Nash . . .” He pushes up from his seated position but doesn’t move any closer. He runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down in what seems like an attempt to look more presentable. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”