The chill in the air reminded him of Henry’s skin.
The guilt threatened to swallow him whole but Temple fought it just long enough to grab a cab to take him to where he usually parked his truck during jobs.
Then he made his way to Henry’s house.
He stood in front of the blue door, scared to knock. What was Temple supposed to say? Vik’s car sat in the driveway, which meant he was still inside, but he wouldn’t be for long. He’d be leaving soon to go to his job at the ad agency.
As Temple stood there, he recalled the pride in Henry’s voice as he’d shared all of Vik’s accomplishments. The love in his friend’s eyes…
Temple shook his head and knocked. Bam! Bam! Bam! Loud and final. As if he meant business and was there to deliver a death notice. Which he fucking was. His heart clenched at that reminder. The sound rang in his ears even as the door opened and Vik stood there. He didn’t hide his surprise quickly enough as his gaze darted from Temple’s face to over his shoulder.
He searched for Henry, who he’d never see again.
Temple swallowed the bile the thought brought.
“Temple.” Vik eyed him quizzically. “Why are you here?” He was a few inches shorter than Temple, slender with dark hair and eyes, skin a light brown showcasing the mix of his Italian father and African-American mother. He’d always been an impeccable dresser and this time was no different. He wore a close-fitting pale pink shirt, black belt and tight gray trousers that reached just at his ankles, and black leather oxfords on his feet. His jacket was slung over one arm. “And why isn’t Henry with you, huh? Is he late again?” His lips quirked as he turned away, headed back into the house.
Temple followed him in, closing the door behind him, movements stiff and jerky.
The light in Vik’s eyes, he was about to put it out. Possibly forever. How did he do this? How did he tell Vik that Henry wasn’t coming home?
Vik kept talking as he strode through the open-concept space to the kitchen. “You guys almost missed me.”
It never failed to put Temple in awe whenever he stepped into this house how much it looked so much like pictures in the magazines he and Henry used to flip through back in the group home. The theme was all white and blue-gray, though the bright blue front door was a nod to Henry’s own love of the color.
Keys jangled as Vik picked them up from the marble countertop where they sat next to a white travel cup. “I don’t get why he sent you ahead. Not that it isn’t nice to see you,” Vik added hastily. “I’m not even mad that you guys were supposed to be here yesterday.”
Temple cringed.
“But he’d better hurry up, though.” Vik pulled out his phone from his pocket and started texting. “I want to see him before I go, but I’ve got a meeting soon with an important client.”
“Vik, I’m sorry.” Temple’s throat ached with the apology.
“Hmm?” Vik took a sip from his travel cup, gaze lifting to Temple’s over the rim. “Sorry about what?” Whatever he saw on Temple’s face made him stiffen. “S-Sorry about what? Where is Henry?” His voice rose and Temple held out a hand automatically, in hopes of placating him.
But that was impossible, wasn’t it? “Vik.” He swallowed. “Henry—Henry isn’t coming.”
Vik scoffed. “Of course he’s coming.” He jerked his chin. “You’re here, which means he’s here.”
Because they were never far from each other’s side. But a bullet had put an end to that. Temple pushed aside his own grief, his own despair. “He’s not coming,” he said softly. The words burned his tongue, leaving a distinct taste of ash behind. “There was a shooting.”
The travel mug fell from Vik’s grip, crashing to the floor and cracking open. Coffee splashed everywhere, onto Vik’s pants and shoes, and Temple’s boots. Vik trembled so hard, it was as if Temple was watching the other man suffer a seizure right before his eyes. But Vik didn’t speak, or maybe he couldn’t. Terror and anguish filled his wide gaze.
“I’m sorry.” It was all Temple had and it wasn’t good enough. He knew that. “Henry is gone.”
“No!” Vik lunged at him, punching, kicking. “No! You’re lying. That’s a lie.” He pushed at Temple’s shoulders. “Henry! Henry!”
His wails tore at Temple’s heart, flailing his skin off his bones. He took the punches, the hits. They were nothing compared to what Vik felt. Nothing compared to the agony roiling inside Temple. Vik’s fists were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So he stood there, Vik’s human punching bag until the other man sagged into him.
Temple wrapped his arms around him as he collapsed, taking them to the floor. He knelt in the small puddle of coffee, holding Vik as he cried. As he shook. Temple’s eyes burned too, but this wasn’t about him. He refused to let it be. Instead, he put his mouth to Vik’s ear and explained softly.
He didn’t know if Vik could hear him over his heartbreak, but he needed to know, so Temple told him. “We were out free and clear, but Henry lost something and he insisted on going back in to get it.” The sound of that gunshot echoed in his head. He didn’t think he’d heard a more devastating sound.
Until Vik’s wails.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and he swallowed again. “I held him—I held him.” He’d watched Henry struggle for breaths, he’d bent his head to hear the last words his friend spoke, and he’d watched the life drain away from him.
Vik wrenched away from Temple’s hold and when their eyes met, the anger and blame in them shattered whatever had been remaining inside Temple. “This is your fault.” Vik pointed a visibly shaking finger at him. “This happened because of you.” Tears poured down his face in torrents.
Temple dipped his chin. “Yes.” There was no sense in lying. The blame belonged squarely on his shoulders. Henry would be alive if Temple hadn’t recruited him into the group all those years back. He hadn’t wanted to do this last job, but Temple convinced him to go.
Quick in and out, Henry.
You’ll be back before you know it.
He was back. In a body bag. After Temple promised to always watch out for his best friend, his brother. To always protect him.
“Get out.”
Temple blinked at Vik’s whisper. “Vik.”
“Get out!” Vik screamed it so loudly, the neighbors had to have heard. “Get away from me.” His anger drained away as quickly as it appeared and Vik fell forward on his knees, body folding in two, hands covering his face as he sobbed. “You killed him. You killed him.”
“I’m sorry.” Nothing else to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Go away. Get out.” Vik didn’t look at him.
The last thing he wanted to do was to leave Vik there on his knees, so broken. But Temple got up off the floor. He gave the man what he wanted, leaving through the back door just steps away.
Once outside, he stayed, leaning against the closed kitchen door, listening to Vik’s heartrending wails while Temple’s own tears flowed unchecked.
Unnoticed.