The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 53

Elm

Something about his eyes was eerily familiar. His face wasn't like anyone I knew, but his eyes pierced through the room, locking onto each of us. I felt uncomfortable immediately as if some part of me recognized him in a way I couldn't pinpoint. His eyes finally landed on me for a moment. Still, they just as quickly moved back to Calloway, the tension in his jaw betraying how much he wanted to tend to my son. I could tell that he wanted to challenge Marco but knew better.

He looked at Calloway with the same intensity that Marco used to look at me when we first met. The moment would have been sweet if he was maybe five years younger, but the fact that he was a 22-year-old man in love with my teenage son threw all my instincts into chaos.

I felt torn. Calling the police would have been the immediate reaction, but seeing Calloway, who had never blushed so deeply or smiled so wide, held me back. I knew if we took this man away from him, there was a chance Calloway would never forgive us. I had a patient whose daughter ran away after they stopped her from seeing her boyfriend, and the family was never the same. I didn't want that for us. We'd worked too hard to build a loving family, giving them everything we could and the space to grow into their own. Even if that path diverged from what Marco and I had envisioned.

I glanced over at Marco and saw him face the same internal struggle.

"So," Marco started, voice cold and blunt, "you've been fucking my son." He went straight to the point. I tried to stay calm, forcing myself to remain unbiased. Still, every fiber of my being screamed to flee from this situation. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, taking deep breaths to settle myself.

"Um..." Germany was taken aback. Calloway groaned, wincing from his injuries.

"Dad, really?" Calloway said, flustered. His face twisted in discomfort, the bruises and cuts still fresh. Seeing him like that made my chest tighten with rage.

Marco didn't back down. "I mean, you are, so why pretend? Do you know he can get pregnant? So, if you're fucking my son, I hope you're using condoms. He has a bright future ahead of him, assuming I let him live past this... incident."

"Dad!" Calloway winced, clearly mortified.

Germany cleared his throat. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled, "Yes, sir, we use protection." His gaze returned to Calloway, softening slightly. How he looked at him—protective and possessive—reminded me of all the times Marco had shielded me and claimed me as his own. It was unsettling, given the circumstances.

"You can drop the 'sir.' We're not following any civil code here," Marco said, leaning back in his chair. "How old are you again? What do you do for work?"

"I'm twenty-two," Germany said, his voice steady. "My pops loaned me money to start a dispensary, which took off. I opened a second location in Venice Beach."

"So you deal drugs... legally," Marco muttered. "Twenty-two. You can drink, vote, and live life wild and free. Why not someone your age? Why my son? Why shouldn't I call the police right now?" Marco's voice was tight, his frustration barely contained.

Germany sighed, glancing at Calloway before meeting Marco's gaze head-on. "After I saved him when some guys cornered him, we talked. He's smarter than most guys my age, hell, even older. But I didn't make a move on him right away. I didn't want to be that guy, the creep. He ended up in my bed that night, but I kept pushing him away, trying to keep things clear... until I couldn't anymore."

Germany's gaze softened as he looked at Calloway. "We started an open relationship a few months back and recently made it official. I get it; I do. If I were you, I'd want to call the cops, too. But I'd die for your son. He's everything to me. He makes me want to be better, and I like to think I'm someone he can look up to. The last two nights, not hearing from him—it drove me insane."