Fic: Oblivion (1/?)
Title: Oblivion
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Paring: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Season 5 coda series - think of it as Season 5 canon with a twist....
Notes: I'm back! I learned my lesson with last year's series, so this year's series will be all contained in chapters in one story, instead of separate fics. Hopefully I can make it through the whole season with one series again! Thanks for all the kind words last season, and all the encouragement over the summer to do it again--hope you enjoy it just as much!
Steve made his way slowly through the yard to the chairs by the beach. Danny was already seated, looking far too still as he stared out at the moonlight dancing on the waves. Whether it was exhaustion or reaction to the case, Steve wasn't sure--probably both.
He sat down next to Danny, putting the six pack of Longboards on the table between them, pulling out one and taking the top off before handing it to Danny, who took it without looking. Steve opened one for himself, watching Danny's face, as still as the rest of him.
"You okay?" Steve asked finally.
Danny shrugged. Steve knew it was a stupid question--the case had ended up being easy enough to solve, but the memory of walking into the scene early that morning and seeing two little girls, one of them in Grace's class, dead and bloody and on display made Steve's stomach turn.
He knew it had to be a hundred times worse for Danny.
"At least we solved it quickly," Steve said.
"I hope that bastard rots in hell," Danny said, before taking a long draw off his beer. Steve had looked the other way when Danny had taken the guy out, and if he'd gotten an extra punch or two in, nobody would ever hear about it from Steve.
"He will," Steve said, because he believed it, even if Danny professed not to. And most prison inmates were notoriously tough on criminals who'd done anything even remotely like this guy. "And probably soon."
"Good."
Steve took a long drink, still watching Danny, searching for a way to distract Danny from the dark thoughts Steve could practically see going through his head. "Did you talk to Grace?"
Danny nodded. "She called from cheer camp a little bit ago," he said. "I'm supposed to call her in the morning before we go to that thing."
'That thing' being their joint therapy session, which Steve was not looking forward to. "I still don't see why we have to go," Steve said. "We've already done our individual reviews. Why do we have to go in together?"
"Maybe she realized that you need so, so much help," Danny said.
Something in the way he said it was a little off, but Steve couldn't put his finger on what. "If that's true, she must think it about both of us, because you're stuck with it too."
Danny muttered something that Steve couldn't hear. "What?" Steve asked. When he muttered it again, Steve twisted in his seat, leaning closer. "Sorry, what?"
"I said," Danny replied, louder and with a resigned tone that made Steve think he might not like the rest of it, "maybe she thinks you and I don't know how to communicate."
Steve played that back in his head, but no, still the same words. "And where might she have gotten that impression?" Steve asked. "We communicate just fine."
"Oh, we do?" Danny turned in his chair to mostly face Steve. "Really? We do? Because if that's true, when I say 'I'd like to drive my own car,' why is it you always hear 'Please, Steven, drive my car! I hate driving!'?"
Steve stared at him for a long moment. "Just what, exactly, did you tell her, Danny?"
"I might've mentioned that you were a little bit of a control freak."
"A little bit of a control freak?"
"Okay," Danny said, eyes dropping down to his beer. "A giant, overbearing control freak who runs roughshod over everyone and everything to get his own way?"
Steve stared some more. He opened his mouth, then closed it again before getting up and pacing across the sand a few times, stopping right in front of Danny. "You are aware that this woman holds the key to us keeping our jobs, right?"
"Yes."
"And you are aware that if she thinks we're not fit for duty, that means we have no jobs?"
Danny waved a hand dismissively. "It wouldn't come to that."
"It wouldn't? I know a couple of people formerly in the Navy who might say otherwise. Note that 'formerly' there, Danny."
"This isn't the Navy," Danny said. "A fact you seem to constantly forget."
"I--" Steve stood there with his mouth open for a few seconds. "I am well aware this isn't the Navy," he said finally. "If it was, you'd have been court-martialed for insubordination years ago."
Danny laughed. "No, see, I wouldn't have, because they'd have court-martialed you for it before they got to me."
"So what else did you tell this shrink?"
"Just that you don't listen."
Steve blinked at him. "I don't listen?"
"No, you don't listen, okay? You don't!"
"Danny, all I do is listen. All day, you talk, you bitch about everything, and I listen!"
Danny pushed up out of his seat, getting up in Steve's space. "You listen, huh? You're gonna go with that?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go with that."
"Okay, then, explain to me why the other day I told you that Grace rode a purple elephant and did a triple backflip off it and you said 'cool.'"
"What? When the hell did you say that?"
Danny's grin was triumphant, and really annoying. "See? You don't listen!"
"Well, great, now I guess I'll have to listen because you've put us both in front of a shrink so I have no choice!"
"Good, then maybe some of what I say will get through that thick, GI Joe skull!"
The last words were punctuated with a finger jab to Steve's chest. He grabbed Danny's wrist instinctively, ready to take him down in a move reminiscent of their first day together. He stopped, though, holding Danny's wrist trapped against Steve's chest, staring down at Danny, who was right there, so close, and suddenly looking just like what Steve needed after the day he'd had.
The day they'd both had, he reminded himself, which was the only explanation for what happened next. Steve leaned down, taking Danny's mouth in a hard, driving kiss. After a moment of being completely frozen, Danny got on board, kissing him back, pulling his hand out from between them to wrap his arms around Steve and pull him closer.
Some part of Steve's brain piped up with a red flag warning, and he told it to fuck off. He was no stranger to this kind of reaction after a bad day on the job, and Danny didn't exactly seem like he was a stranger to it either, not by the way he was unzipping Steve's fly and pulling out his dick. Sometimes the job made you angry, and you channeled that anger in different ways.
This just happened to be a more pleasurable way than, say, breaking your hand on a brick wall.
Steve managed to get Danny's fly undone and his pants out of the way enough that his dick was free. He pulled Danny closer, their mouths still practically fused together, trying to get their hips to line up, but it was no use.
Horizontal his brain supplied. Yes, right, horizontal. That would solve the height thing. He dragged Danny down to the sand, somehow managing not to injure either of them or stop kissing. Because he was pretty sure one of them, at least, would come to his senses if they stopped kissing and this had gone too far to hit sanity until it was done.
They went down on their sides, but Steve rolled until Danny was under him, finally, lined up just right, their cocks bumping against each other as they moved their hips. They were in sync, as always, driving hard and fast towards a release that came much faster than part of Steve's brain he wasn't listening to would have liked.
He spared a moment to catch his breath before rolling onto his back, his arm pressed up against Danny's. The stars were bright, and he had a fleeting memory of lying out on this same beach every night for weeks after his mother died, staring at the same view.
But not quite like this.
Danny sat up, looking down at Steve, his face hidden in the shadows. "So, um...that was, uh...."
Steve propped himself up on his elbows, trying to pretend he was just relaxing, and that his ass wasn't buried naked in the sand, and his dick wasn't hanging out to dry. "It happens," he said, pausing to clear his throat. "Rough day, looking for some way to affirm life, all that."
"That's, uh, deep," Danny said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Maybe you should lead our little couples therapy session tomorrow."
Steve laughed at the thought. "But that would mean I'd have to listen, right?"
Danny's laughter was quiet, and faded quickly. "I know you listen," he said softly. "When it's important."
The quiet sincerity warmed Steve's heart. "I do."
Danny sniffed. "Okay, I'm gonna, uh, go home," he said, standing up, doing up his pants. "Take a shower, dig sand out of places it has no business going, all that."
He didn't sound upset about it, but it was hitting Steve that Danny might not have the same perspective on it he did, and that he wasn't really sure where Danny and Amber stood these days, either. Steve jumped to his feet, grabbing Danny's arm as he turned to go. "We're okay, right?" Steve said.
"When aren't we?" Danny said, one eyebrow raised. "Despite your penchant for driving my car, ordering me around, taking over my life--"
"All right, I get it," Steve said with a laugh. "Save the rest for therapy."
"Yeah, though I think I'll leave this," he waved a hand at the beach, "out of it."
"Hey, look, you can learn!"
Danny smacked him on the arm. "I'll see you in the morning, asshole."
Steve watched him go, staring after him for a long time before picking up the beer and going into the house.
***
Steve tested the dressing on his leg, wondering if he could walk out of the hospital on his own. He'd walked around on much worse, after all. He put his feet down and stood, pleased to see that the dressing was wrapped tight enough to support the injured muscles, and it would hold his weight.
He wasn't sure how comfortable it would be when the painkillers wore off, but again, he'd dealt with worse.
"What the hell are you doing?" Danny asked as he walked through the curtain, letting it drop behind him.
"I'm standing here."
Danny took the few steps to the bed, half-pushing, half-supporting Steve as he lowered him back onto the bed. "You do realize that the doctor's last orders to you were, and I quote, 'Stay off that leg, Commander'?" Danny said. "I leave for five minutes to get your clothes and you're ready to do jumping jacks?"
"Danny, relax. I wasn't going to do jumping jacks. I was just seeing how tight the dressing was."
Danny rolled his eyes. "So you could do jumping jacks."
"I promise you, there will be no jumping jacks, all right?"
"Sure. Whatever." Danny tossed the bag onto the bed beside him. "Here. You're so healed, you can get yourself dressed, right?"
Steve pulled out his board shorts and a t-shirt that had been in the trunk of the Camaro, and were, mercifully, free of bullet holes. "Thanks."
He managed the t-shirt well enough, but when it was time to exchange the scrub pants for his shorts, he found it too hard to bend his leg up. "I think I need some help," he said, hating the words, but hating them a little less when he said them to Danny than just about anyone else.
"Wow, you mind if I record you saying that before I help?"
"Are you going to help me, or are you going to be an ass?"
Danny seemed to consider that for a moment. "I can't do both?"
"You excel at doing both."
"You're awfully mouthy for someone who wants my help," Danny said, but he was smiling, and he was already easing the scrubs over Steve's wound and down his legs. Steve had to bite his lip as Danny pulled the shorts up over his hips, Danny's wrist brushing Steve's dick as the fabric covered it, Danny's body so close Steve could smell him.
It wasn't a big deal. He'd enjoyed the night before--it had been a while since he'd any release that didn't involve his right hand. And after the day they'd had, he'd be up for it again, but he wasn't getting a sense that Danny would.
He'd really have to ask Danny about Amber some time, when the chance presented itself.
"There," Danny said, taking a step back from the bed as he cleared his throat. "You're ready to go. Unless you need to wait for the doctor?"
Steve shook his head. "Signed the release a few minutes ago," he said, holding up the papers.
"Let me guess. He also gave you some information on taking care of yourself that you're going to completely ignore."
"I've had gunshot wounds before, Danny. I know how to deal with them."
"Whatever." Danny took the papers, folding them up and stuffing them in his back pocket. Steve wondered idly if Danny would be over at his house later, reading the instructions out loud to get Steve to comply. "Let's go."
He ducked out of the curtain. Steve had taken three steps when Danny reappeared, pushing a wheelchair. "Oh, no," Steve said, holding up his hands. "I can walk."
"Either you get in this chair, or you stay here," Danny said.
As he was blocking Steve's exit, and could probably take Steve if he surprised him, given the injury, Steve thought he might be right. But he still hesitated. "Seriously, Danny, I can walk out of here."
"Steven. Get your ass in the chair." Danny's lips curved up. "After all, who wouldn't want to be driven around all the time, right?"
Fuck. He couldn't really argue with his own words. Well, he could, but he supposed there were worse things than Danny pushing him out to the car. Steve lowered himself gingerly into the chair without another word. He endured the ribbing from his team, hearing the concern and relief beneath the words, as they walked out of the hospital.
He was content to listen to their banter as they walked him out to the car, his ears perking up when Danny was asking about Shaw. He really did need to find out about him and Amber, if Danny was asking about other women. A good friend should know these things.
He was wondering how he was going to get into the Camaro, when they walked up to Jerry's van. Made sense, it would be a lot easier to get into, and he appreciated the gesture.
When Danny said he wasn't coming, though, Steve was a little surprised. He'd half-expected him to come along and make sure Steve behaved to the letter of the instructions, still in Danny's pocket.
Except Grace was due home this afternoon, and Danny needed to get the car taken care of and be there for her, Steve realized. That made sense. It had nothing to do with Danny being uncomfortable about what had happened.
Steve settled into the back of the minivan, ignoring that nagging feeling at the back of his head. He'd give Danny a call later and everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.
***
Chapter 2
-----
Like my writing? Check out my first two novels, available for Kindle and print on Amazon!
Against the Odds, Book 1 of the Hustle series
US | IN | UK | DE | FR | ES | IT | JP | BR | CA | MX | AU
Family Ties, Book 2 of the Hustle series
US | CA | UK | AU | DE | IT | MX | IN | FR | ES | JP | BR
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Paring: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Season 5 coda series - think of it as Season 5 canon with a twist....
Notes: I'm back! I learned my lesson with last year's series, so this year's series will be all contained in chapters in one story, instead of separate fics. Hopefully I can make it through the whole season with one series again! Thanks for all the kind words last season, and all the encouragement over the summer to do it again--hope you enjoy it just as much!
Steve made his way slowly through the yard to the chairs by the beach. Danny was already seated, looking far too still as he stared out at the moonlight dancing on the waves. Whether it was exhaustion or reaction to the case, Steve wasn't sure--probably both.
He sat down next to Danny, putting the six pack of Longboards on the table between them, pulling out one and taking the top off before handing it to Danny, who took it without looking. Steve opened one for himself, watching Danny's face, as still as the rest of him.
"You okay?" Steve asked finally.
Danny shrugged. Steve knew it was a stupid question--the case had ended up being easy enough to solve, but the memory of walking into the scene early that morning and seeing two little girls, one of them in Grace's class, dead and bloody and on display made Steve's stomach turn.
He knew it had to be a hundred times worse for Danny.
"At least we solved it quickly," Steve said.
"I hope that bastard rots in hell," Danny said, before taking a long draw off his beer. Steve had looked the other way when Danny had taken the guy out, and if he'd gotten an extra punch or two in, nobody would ever hear about it from Steve.
"He will," Steve said, because he believed it, even if Danny professed not to. And most prison inmates were notoriously tough on criminals who'd done anything even remotely like this guy. "And probably soon."
"Good."
Steve took a long drink, still watching Danny, searching for a way to distract Danny from the dark thoughts Steve could practically see going through his head. "Did you talk to Grace?"
Danny nodded. "She called from cheer camp a little bit ago," he said. "I'm supposed to call her in the morning before we go to that thing."
'That thing' being their joint therapy session, which Steve was not looking forward to. "I still don't see why we have to go," Steve said. "We've already done our individual reviews. Why do we have to go in together?"
"Maybe she realized that you need so, so much help," Danny said.
Something in the way he said it was a little off, but Steve couldn't put his finger on what. "If that's true, she must think it about both of us, because you're stuck with it too."
Danny muttered something that Steve couldn't hear. "What?" Steve asked. When he muttered it again, Steve twisted in his seat, leaning closer. "Sorry, what?"
"I said," Danny replied, louder and with a resigned tone that made Steve think he might not like the rest of it, "maybe she thinks you and I don't know how to communicate."
Steve played that back in his head, but no, still the same words. "And where might she have gotten that impression?" Steve asked. "We communicate just fine."
"Oh, we do?" Danny turned in his chair to mostly face Steve. "Really? We do? Because if that's true, when I say 'I'd like to drive my own car,' why is it you always hear 'Please, Steven, drive my car! I hate driving!'?"
Steve stared at him for a long moment. "Just what, exactly, did you tell her, Danny?"
"I might've mentioned that you were a little bit of a control freak."
"A little bit of a control freak?"
"Okay," Danny said, eyes dropping down to his beer. "A giant, overbearing control freak who runs roughshod over everyone and everything to get his own way?"
Steve stared some more. He opened his mouth, then closed it again before getting up and pacing across the sand a few times, stopping right in front of Danny. "You are aware that this woman holds the key to us keeping our jobs, right?"
"Yes."
"And you are aware that if she thinks we're not fit for duty, that means we have no jobs?"
Danny waved a hand dismissively. "It wouldn't come to that."
"It wouldn't? I know a couple of people formerly in the Navy who might say otherwise. Note that 'formerly' there, Danny."
"This isn't the Navy," Danny said. "A fact you seem to constantly forget."
"I--" Steve stood there with his mouth open for a few seconds. "I am well aware this isn't the Navy," he said finally. "If it was, you'd have been court-martialed for insubordination years ago."
Danny laughed. "No, see, I wouldn't have, because they'd have court-martialed you for it before they got to me."
"So what else did you tell this shrink?"
"Just that you don't listen."
Steve blinked at him. "I don't listen?"
"No, you don't listen, okay? You don't!"
"Danny, all I do is listen. All day, you talk, you bitch about everything, and I listen!"
Danny pushed up out of his seat, getting up in Steve's space. "You listen, huh? You're gonna go with that?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go with that."
"Okay, then, explain to me why the other day I told you that Grace rode a purple elephant and did a triple backflip off it and you said 'cool.'"
"What? When the hell did you say that?"
Danny's grin was triumphant, and really annoying. "See? You don't listen!"
"Well, great, now I guess I'll have to listen because you've put us both in front of a shrink so I have no choice!"
"Good, then maybe some of what I say will get through that thick, GI Joe skull!"
The last words were punctuated with a finger jab to Steve's chest. He grabbed Danny's wrist instinctively, ready to take him down in a move reminiscent of their first day together. He stopped, though, holding Danny's wrist trapped against Steve's chest, staring down at Danny, who was right there, so close, and suddenly looking just like what Steve needed after the day he'd had.
The day they'd both had, he reminded himself, which was the only explanation for what happened next. Steve leaned down, taking Danny's mouth in a hard, driving kiss. After a moment of being completely frozen, Danny got on board, kissing him back, pulling his hand out from between them to wrap his arms around Steve and pull him closer.
Some part of Steve's brain piped up with a red flag warning, and he told it to fuck off. He was no stranger to this kind of reaction after a bad day on the job, and Danny didn't exactly seem like he was a stranger to it either, not by the way he was unzipping Steve's fly and pulling out his dick. Sometimes the job made you angry, and you channeled that anger in different ways.
This just happened to be a more pleasurable way than, say, breaking your hand on a brick wall.
Steve managed to get Danny's fly undone and his pants out of the way enough that his dick was free. He pulled Danny closer, their mouths still practically fused together, trying to get their hips to line up, but it was no use.
Horizontal his brain supplied. Yes, right, horizontal. That would solve the height thing. He dragged Danny down to the sand, somehow managing not to injure either of them or stop kissing. Because he was pretty sure one of them, at least, would come to his senses if they stopped kissing and this had gone too far to hit sanity until it was done.
They went down on their sides, but Steve rolled until Danny was under him, finally, lined up just right, their cocks bumping against each other as they moved their hips. They were in sync, as always, driving hard and fast towards a release that came much faster than part of Steve's brain he wasn't listening to would have liked.
He spared a moment to catch his breath before rolling onto his back, his arm pressed up against Danny's. The stars were bright, and he had a fleeting memory of lying out on this same beach every night for weeks after his mother died, staring at the same view.
But not quite like this.
Danny sat up, looking down at Steve, his face hidden in the shadows. "So, um...that was, uh...."
Steve propped himself up on his elbows, trying to pretend he was just relaxing, and that his ass wasn't buried naked in the sand, and his dick wasn't hanging out to dry. "It happens," he said, pausing to clear his throat. "Rough day, looking for some way to affirm life, all that."
"That's, uh, deep," Danny said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Maybe you should lead our little couples therapy session tomorrow."
Steve laughed at the thought. "But that would mean I'd have to listen, right?"
Danny's laughter was quiet, and faded quickly. "I know you listen," he said softly. "When it's important."
The quiet sincerity warmed Steve's heart. "I do."
Danny sniffed. "Okay, I'm gonna, uh, go home," he said, standing up, doing up his pants. "Take a shower, dig sand out of places it has no business going, all that."
He didn't sound upset about it, but it was hitting Steve that Danny might not have the same perspective on it he did, and that he wasn't really sure where Danny and Amber stood these days, either. Steve jumped to his feet, grabbing Danny's arm as he turned to go. "We're okay, right?" Steve said.
"When aren't we?" Danny said, one eyebrow raised. "Despite your penchant for driving my car, ordering me around, taking over my life--"
"All right, I get it," Steve said with a laugh. "Save the rest for therapy."
"Yeah, though I think I'll leave this," he waved a hand at the beach, "out of it."
"Hey, look, you can learn!"
Danny smacked him on the arm. "I'll see you in the morning, asshole."
Steve watched him go, staring after him for a long time before picking up the beer and going into the house.
***
Steve tested the dressing on his leg, wondering if he could walk out of the hospital on his own. He'd walked around on much worse, after all. He put his feet down and stood, pleased to see that the dressing was wrapped tight enough to support the injured muscles, and it would hold his weight.
He wasn't sure how comfortable it would be when the painkillers wore off, but again, he'd dealt with worse.
"What the hell are you doing?" Danny asked as he walked through the curtain, letting it drop behind him.
"I'm standing here."
Danny took the few steps to the bed, half-pushing, half-supporting Steve as he lowered him back onto the bed. "You do realize that the doctor's last orders to you were, and I quote, 'Stay off that leg, Commander'?" Danny said. "I leave for five minutes to get your clothes and you're ready to do jumping jacks?"
"Danny, relax. I wasn't going to do jumping jacks. I was just seeing how tight the dressing was."
Danny rolled his eyes. "So you could do jumping jacks."
"I promise you, there will be no jumping jacks, all right?"
"Sure. Whatever." Danny tossed the bag onto the bed beside him. "Here. You're so healed, you can get yourself dressed, right?"
Steve pulled out his board shorts and a t-shirt that had been in the trunk of the Camaro, and were, mercifully, free of bullet holes. "Thanks."
He managed the t-shirt well enough, but when it was time to exchange the scrub pants for his shorts, he found it too hard to bend his leg up. "I think I need some help," he said, hating the words, but hating them a little less when he said them to Danny than just about anyone else.
"Wow, you mind if I record you saying that before I help?"
"Are you going to help me, or are you going to be an ass?"
Danny seemed to consider that for a moment. "I can't do both?"
"You excel at doing both."
"You're awfully mouthy for someone who wants my help," Danny said, but he was smiling, and he was already easing the scrubs over Steve's wound and down his legs. Steve had to bite his lip as Danny pulled the shorts up over his hips, Danny's wrist brushing Steve's dick as the fabric covered it, Danny's body so close Steve could smell him.
It wasn't a big deal. He'd enjoyed the night before--it had been a while since he'd any release that didn't involve his right hand. And after the day they'd had, he'd be up for it again, but he wasn't getting a sense that Danny would.
He'd really have to ask Danny about Amber some time, when the chance presented itself.
"There," Danny said, taking a step back from the bed as he cleared his throat. "You're ready to go. Unless you need to wait for the doctor?"
Steve shook his head. "Signed the release a few minutes ago," he said, holding up the papers.
"Let me guess. He also gave you some information on taking care of yourself that you're going to completely ignore."
"I've had gunshot wounds before, Danny. I know how to deal with them."
"Whatever." Danny took the papers, folding them up and stuffing them in his back pocket. Steve wondered idly if Danny would be over at his house later, reading the instructions out loud to get Steve to comply. "Let's go."
He ducked out of the curtain. Steve had taken three steps when Danny reappeared, pushing a wheelchair. "Oh, no," Steve said, holding up his hands. "I can walk."
"Either you get in this chair, or you stay here," Danny said.
As he was blocking Steve's exit, and could probably take Steve if he surprised him, given the injury, Steve thought he might be right. But he still hesitated. "Seriously, Danny, I can walk out of here."
"Steven. Get your ass in the chair." Danny's lips curved up. "After all, who wouldn't want to be driven around all the time, right?"
Fuck. He couldn't really argue with his own words. Well, he could, but he supposed there were worse things than Danny pushing him out to the car. Steve lowered himself gingerly into the chair without another word. He endured the ribbing from his team, hearing the concern and relief beneath the words, as they walked out of the hospital.
He was content to listen to their banter as they walked him out to the car, his ears perking up when Danny was asking about Shaw. He really did need to find out about him and Amber, if Danny was asking about other women. A good friend should know these things.
He was wondering how he was going to get into the Camaro, when they walked up to Jerry's van. Made sense, it would be a lot easier to get into, and he appreciated the gesture.
When Danny said he wasn't coming, though, Steve was a little surprised. He'd half-expected him to come along and make sure Steve behaved to the letter of the instructions, still in Danny's pocket.
Except Grace was due home this afternoon, and Danny needed to get the car taken care of and be there for her, Steve realized. That made sense. It had nothing to do with Danny being uncomfortable about what had happened.
Steve settled into the back of the minivan, ignoring that nagging feeling at the back of his head. He'd give Danny a call later and everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.
***
Chapter 2
-----
Like my writing? Check out my first two novels, available for Kindle and print on Amazon!
Against the Odds, Book 1 of the Hustle series
US | IN | UK | DE | FR | ES | IT | JP | BR | CA | MX | AU
Family Ties, Book 2 of the Hustle series
US | CA | UK | AU | DE | IT | MX | IN | FR | ES | JP | BR