"Happy Thanksgiving!"

I roll over to find Anthony jumping beside me, shaking the entire bed as I pull the blankets over my head, "Is it that time already?"

"How do you not know that it is a holiday?"

"My biological donors did not celebrate holidays with me."

I can feel the blankets being pulled and I give in. He wouldn't let me get away with it anyways. The furrow of determination across his brow is daunting as he grabs my wrist and shakes my arm vigorously, "Get up and get dressed, Dante! I want to take you to our Thanksgiving!"

Much to my surprise, he hops up and sails through the door without leaving a chance for me to find out who our is. I scrounge through all of the clothes I've stuffed into an old dresser I found, pulling out one plain white button up shirt and a pair of navy blue slacks. I didn't bother to tuck in my shirt, but I found a belt to wear before slipping on my dress shoes. It was more of a casual dress, but if I needed to make it more formal I can. After walking down the stairs, I'm ambushed again by Anthony, but this time he's in a pair of jeans and a plaid button up shirt. He's shimmied down into the tightest jeans I've ever seen and I'm almost too embarrassed to look at them. His shirt is tucked into his pants, creating a form fitted outfit that makes it impossible to look away. It could be that he's pure evil in this form, here to charm the socks off of any and every one who gets in his way, certainly me being the first as I'm already melting.

As we settle into the car, the smell of his cologne is intoxicating and I'm suddenly glad that I'm not in control of this vehicle as I can hardly keep my focus anywhere other than him. The ride to town is filled with his excited chatter about the last Thanksgiving he had while I try to smile and pay attention. Soon that is all shattered as his hand drops to my lap and he picks up my own hand, entwining them together as he pulls them up to place a kiss on the back of my hand. The steady pounding in my ears drowns out any noise that I might have heard as he smiles at me, his eyes twinkling.

"Thank you for moving here, Dante. And thank you for being with me and giving me a chance."

I would've said something if I could drag my heart back to its' rightful place, but with great effort I manage to squeeze his hand back. The look of elation that flashes across his features tells me he understands and he turns back to the conversation as I float on a cloud of muddled happiness and anxiousness. It isn't that we are distant and lack affection, much the opposite. The problem I'm faced with is I can never get used to having him so close. The level of adoration with which he holds for me is immense. I can feel it in every word he says. 

"Danteee, we're here, babe."

I snap out of my daze as my hand feels empty again. The pressure behind my bottom lip is causing a pout until my hand is reattached to his and I bump into him gently, just for good measure. As we come into the building, the whole town is there, crowded around tables as there is a large buffet in the center with Mike at the helm. He's dishing out plate after plate with a bellowing laugh and keeping the area alive with a shining attitude. When he sees Anthony and I, he yells a welcome over the small sea of heads and everyone turns to follow suit. It's touching how much the people love Anthony. They really do treat him like family and as I'm left behind him I feel Sally's arm loop through mine. She drags me into the crowd, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she stops in front of a group of ladies her age.

"Guys, this is my friend, Dante. He moved here a while back and this is his first Thanksgiving with the family."

The first woman wraps me in her arms for an unsolicited hug, but I pat her on the back as she moves away. "He's a quiet one. I haven't heard from him all this time. Where'd you move into?"

"Oh, I moved to the big house just outside of town on Whisper Road."

"Boy, you mean to tell me," the second woman glances at Sally, "you mean to tell me he's living in the old Gibb-"

"Ohhhh, okay, well, I think I see Anthony over there. Let's go catch him, shall we?" Sally yanks me away from the women that she just interrupted, forcing me through the crowd ahead of her as she laughs hollowly. I look back, but the women have blended in with the crowd and suddenly I'm tugged by the waist to Anthony. He's talking with Josh about a pie on the table, but I'm stuck on what they had said about the house. Were they going to say Gibberts? The old Gibberts house? Anthony pats my side, questions in his eyes as he asks me where I'd like to sit.

"Anthony, isn't your last name Gibberts?"

"Well, yeah, but why?"

"And the house we live in . . . Is it the old Gibberts house?"

His face becomes the color of ash and I have my answer as he stumbles over his words. I don't have to stay. I whip around, heading for the back door because I honestly need some air and maybe a moment to process everything. I feel trapped. What were his intentions? Did he know me before I moved here? Does he know Kadence? Is this another ploy to get his way?

"Aye, Danny, babe. Long time no see."

The honeyed voice breaks my inner turmoil only to create a more frightening stream of panic.

"Leave me alone."

"Don't say that, Danny. You'll hurt my feelings." His pout plays along his lips like the smile that is chasing it and I make a move for the door, pulling sharply on the handle before realizing that it only opens from the inside. The air is tighter and everything slows down, the door busting open, the pain shooting through my forehead, the stars glittering behind my eyelids, and the sound of scuffling shortly after, but I'm not awake long enough to know what happens next.

---

"Hey, son, can you hear me?"

The brightness of the light is blinding as I squeeze my eyes closed. There's a fire searing through my head as I nod and instantly regret it. A finger opens my eyes as someone blinds me with a light.

"Yep, he's fine. Ice that knot on his head and that little cut needs to be washed."

It feels like I've been drenched in water and as I croak out for the light to go away, someone lays a hot towel over my face. I pat myself off, rolling to my side and teeter on the edge of the table as Mike holds my arm to steady me. When I pull away, the towel is spotted with red and I grimace. Happy Thanksgiving to me. The thought makes me chuckle and Mike calls out to someone nearby for a chair. Anthony pulls one around and I collapse into it. 

"Who opened the door?" I try desperately to speak without clicking my teeth together in the lowest audible voice possible.

Anthony's face drops into my view, his hands on my knees as he crouches in front of me, "I am so sorry, Dante. I thought you had ran away from the door and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but-"

"Thank you . . . Can we just go home? I want to lay down. Please?"

His frown lightens as he nods, picking me up and carrying me to the car. Every footstep, every movement, every sound, even just the brushing of the wind makes my face throb. At the sound of the door close, I wince. I'm doomed this time.

When we make it home, I slowly make my way to the living room, settling on the couch and curling up to sleep. I can feel his presence behind me and I grumble out a what. When I don't get an answer, I squint my eyes and glance over my shoulder. I really thought he was there, but maybe it's also this damage to my head that's throwing me off.

"Dante, would you rather sleep in your bed?"

"I'd rather you leave me alone right now."

"Are you sure?"

"I could never be more certain of anything, Anthony Gibberts. Never."

I already feel horrible for spitting out his last name, but so far today he's pummeled my face with a door and I've found out that we've been living in his dead family's house and he's never thought this entire year to tell me.

Drifting off to sleep proves to be more difficult than I expected and when I finally do, the nightmares I have make me wish that I hadn't. I awake with a start only to find that it is late afternoon and the sun is beginning to set. It's quiet and the only light I see is coming from the backyard. There's two people on the patio and when I walk back, I find Anthony and Mike chatting. Eavesdropping is the least favorite habit of mine, but today I can't help it and I sit below the windowsill, nudging the window up gently.

"Did you tell him?"

"Do you think that I should, Mike? Do you think he'll understand?"

"I think he loves you, boy. I think you love him, too, and if you want him to stay, then you'll have to be honest. Lay it all down on the table."

"Mike, I really don't know. I can't lose him, too. I've lost so many people. Hell, I lost myself for a while, too."

I can see him drop his head in his hands, but the only way I know he's crying is from the sniffling and the mournful sound of his words. Mike puts a big hand on his shoulder, reassuring him as he sobs more violently now. 

"Boy, you can't make him stay, can't make him do anything. But if you don't tell him and he finds out himself, he'll never trust you again and he sure as hell won't stay. No one can tell your story like you do. No one would tell your story for you, but he's smart. He'll figure it out, but he might not understand it if it's not coming from you."

I crawl away from the window and get back on my feet, stretching as I open the door and walk out on the patio, yawning. Mike jumps up and hustles around his chair, inspecting my head and making a fuss, but he stops once Anthony is finished wiping his eyes. Anthony turns around and I can see the bruise on his cheek that is blackening his eye. I had no idea he had been hurt and I put my hands to the sides of his chin, tilting his head so I can wipe away a stray tear. Mike is walking into the house and as we are left alone the tears begin streaming down his face again as he apologizes.

"I'm so-I'm so sorry." The great sobs that wrack through his body shake my own as I hug him tightly.

"Shhh, no, don't worry about it. If you hadn't hit me with a door, then I never would've escaped from Kade."

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I shoulda told you the truth."

I simply patted his back and didn't say anything. He's right after all. Once Anthony had calmed down, we went to the living room where Mike was making himself a small setup on the couch. 

"Mike is staying in case that kid comes by here. Can't be too safe."

"Anthony, sit down." The tone of my voice shocks even me and he drops into the chair at once. "Kade is not coming into this house. No one has to stay here, unless you want to stay, Mike."

Mike nods with a smile on his face, "Shops closed tomorrow, too, so I don't mind being a guest."

When I turn back to Anthony, his face makes me uneasy, "As for you. I expect you to sit here and I'm going to make something to eat. Then we are all going to forget that this day happened, if that's okay. Everything goes back to normal." As I stride to the kitchen, Mike makes a comment about leftovers and I find a collection of tupperwares in the fridge with food from the feast inside. I heat them up and we eat in silence, cleaning up the dishes as we finish with them.

"Dante . . . "

"Yes?" I expect something sad to come from him, but instead, he shrugs and turns around to go upstairs. The way he scratches his head and glances around uncomfortably makes me wonder if it is the house or something else is upsetting him.

I make up my mind to grab a towel and a ziplock bag of ice and ascend the stairs behind him, hearing Mike snoring on the couch as I go. The room is dark and gloomy as Anthony has managed to get into bed so fast that I'm impressed. I sit at the edge and lean over his side, catching a glimpse of his melancholy expression before he wipes it away. 

"Anthonyyy, come here."

His reluctance makes me wary, but I pretend to help him turn to his back because in reality he's a giant to me. He grins in spite of our terrible day and I place my hand in his, putting my homemade ice pack on his cheek as he turns his head to pin it against the pillow. Brushing his wild curls out of his eyes, I can see the glimmer of hope hiding in his face and when he closes his eyes and relaxes, I run my fingers across his chest. It's such an inappropriate time to feel such a way, but I can't focus anymore because my brain is doused in a thick fog. As I draw my finger along his chest and pull it lower, weaving lines back and forth, I have to ignore his eyes that are boring holes in my face. I can't look at him or I'll stop myself. I trace across the scar that's carved along the top and draw it further down. The sheets draw back farther until I stop at his abs, my jaw agape at the dark bruises over his midsection.

"Is this from earlier?!"

His crooked half smile brushes away my words as he looks anywhere else. "No, they're from yesterday . . . "

"Anthony! What happened?!"

"Nothing happened. It's fine. I'm fine."

If I could glare any harder, I might have stared right through him and saw the core of the earth. I carefully run my hands over his stomach, looking at the dark purple bruises across his sides. 

"Trust me, any other day I'd be so glad to accept your attention," he winces slightly as he pulls my hand away, "but today is a really painful day."

"What happened to you?"

"I thought I ran that guy out of town, but his buddies let me know that he's here to stay. He don't give up."

"He won't stop until he gets what he wants, Anthony. I told you that. Why did you acknowledge him? He would've left you alone."

"I wasn't gonna let him win. He's jealous and he's bitter. But I held my own. I don't look as bad as he does."

I sigh, exasperated at this point. "Is there anything else I should know about? Any hidden surprises?"

Anthony shakes his head, moving the ice pack to his side as he turns, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, babe."

I stretch out at his request and let him press his face between my shoulders. "Anthony, stop hiding stuff from me. I don't like being in the dark. You shouldn't have hid that you were hurt or that you were in a fight at all. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

He reaches over me to put the bag of ice and the towel on the nightstand, "It was never your fault. Stop thinking like that."

When he rests his hand over my side and mixes his fingers with mine, I finally feel him relax again. He doesn't realize how much I hate his pain, but the more I worry about it, the more that my head hurts. I want him to share when he's comfortable, but I'm still so curious.

---

Kadence

"This stupid fucking town is getting in my way. He should've stayed with me. Now he's off being some whore with the town psycho and I'm stuck with you two oafs!"

The pair of lackeys stare at his face in annoyance, barely affected by his tantrum, but they hide their fear better than anyone else after following him for so long.

"I'll burn down this town building by building until he's mine again. He deserves to be punished for cheating on me. And that crybaby he's shacking up with needs to disappear, too."