Free Long Time Gone (Hell or High Water ) by SE Jakes Page A

together from sweat, and Tom thought about moving.
    It was only then that he realized they were almost totally in the dark, because the door had swung closed and there was no light fixture in the small room . . . save for a green glow that he remembered well.
    Prophet was looking up at the glow stars that were reflecting off their skin. Tom leaned in and kissed his neck. “I put those stars on the ceiling in sixth grade.” He remembered choosing the laundry room because it was small and dark and safe. Tucked out of the way. You could tell secrets here—or reveal them—and it would all be okay.
    “Weren’t enough stars in the sky for you?”
    “None that were just mine. Those were for everyone—the people I loved and the people who hated me. But these . . . these were all mine.”
    Prophet didn’t say anything, just threaded his fingers through Tom’s. Tom turned to trace a star pattern on Prophet’s shoulder.
    What were the odds of Prophet being in one of his childhood homes—the happy one?
    Whenever he’d come into the French Quarter, he’d stepped into a different world. Being with Prophet felt exactly the same. He was always slightly off-balance but knew that nothing truly bad could touch him. How such an insane man had become his safe place would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.
    “So you liked it here?” Prophet asked.
    Here, Tom had still been looked on with suspicion, but no one had actively tried to hurt him. Not physically. “Yes. But Della took a lot of shit whenever I stayed with her.”
    “That’s the job of an adult,” Prophet said, and Tom knew Prophet liked Della well enough, but he still heard anger in the man’s voice. “You’d protect you in that situation, right?”
    “With my life.” Tom stared at him in the semi-darkness. “I was protecting you with my choice, Proph. You know that.”
    Prophet didn’t say a word, but his body tensed up. He didn’t pull away from Tom, but still . . .
    “You’re all scary calm,” Tom whispered, “but I know you’re so pissed at me.” As much as they tried, they couldn’t completely avoid this topic tonight, not unless one of them took Viagra or the hurricane ended immediately.
    A long moment of silence passed. “At you,” Prophet finally admitted. “At myself. You ran. But I let you. Then I ran too, and I don’t fucking run. I go into the fire, T, not away from it.”
    “This was a different kind of fire.” Tom stared at him, the glow pattern dappling Prophet’s skin. Prophet, in his world. Under his stars. “Why didn’t you want a partner to begin with? Because of what happened with John?”
    “I don’t work well as a team player.”
    “I don’t buy that. I know why you had problems with me as your partner: my temper and almost killing that guy during our cage fight. And almost costing us our mission.” He had to get it out, had to articulate it, had to say it out loud to try to absolve himself.
    It never worked.
    Prophet shook his head. “Your temper doesn’t scare me. Not the way you think. I know tempers, but I’m worried about you.”
    Tom was worried about both of them. “Did you read my emails?”
    “Nice change of topic.”
    “Proph . . .”
    “Yeah,” Prophet disclosed grudgingly. “All at once, two days ago. I couldn’t open them before that, because I knew.”
    “Knew what?”
    “That I’d come back. To you, for sure. And I’ve never done that, T.”
    “Even with John?” There was no malice there. The ghost of John that had hung between them four months ago had dissipated.
    “It was different with John. From the time I was twelve, he was my one constant.” Prophet paused, looked away as if wrestling with something he didn’t want Tom to see. A long moment ticked by, and then Prophet locked his gaze on Tom, much the way he’d done that very first time they’d met, a raw, almost brutal stare. “I searched for him for two full years after everyone said he was dead.”
    Tom didn’t say