Diesel stepped hard onto the floor, to warn the boy that he was coming. Michael stilled, then seemed to sag, but he wouldn’t show his face.

Diesel crouched and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then a light tap. Michael shook his head, so Diesel repeated the squeeze-tap. Michael turned enough that one eye was revealed. One very red and swollen eye.

“You’re going to wake Joshua,” Diesel signed without voicing. “If he sees you crying, he’s going to worry. Come on. I’ll make us some tea. We can sit in the kitchen.”

Michael rolled to his feet, expression sullen. “I don’t want to talk,” he signed.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to drink the tea.” Diesel left the room, aware that Michael was following. He pointed to a chair in the kitchen, and Michael flopped into it. Hawkeye crawled under the table and flopped to his belly in a similar motion.

Diesel busied himself making the tea, then placed two cups on the table and poured. “This is Dani’s tea. It’s chocolate mint. I like it.”

They sipped in silence for a few minutes, then Michael glanced at the kitchen doorway. “Troy’s still here?”

“At the front door,” Diesel signed, still not voicing.

Michael raised miserable eyes to Diesel. “He knows about me. What happened to me. Everyone’s going to know. Everyone’s going to know that I couldn’t fight him off.” Two tears rolled down his cheeks. “That I’m weak. Brewer always said that to me. That I’m weak. Skinny.” He swallowed hard. “That I’ll never be a real man.”

Diesel flattened his hands on the table, unable to breathe through the tightness in his chest. Once again he wished that he could snap Brewer’s neck himself. Killing the bastard might have been the only good thing Cade Kaiser had done.

And then he made a decision. Because Brewer’s words took him back. Made him hear almost the same words, but in an older voice. A smoother voice.

A rapist’s voice.

He needed to get this off his chest for Michael’s sake. Because there’s no fucking way on God’s green earth that I’ll let Michael believe he’s weak.

He forced his hands to relax and he began to sign. “Troy doesn’t know what happened to you. Not what Brewer did, anyway. Kate and Decker don’t know, either. They only know that you witnessed Brewer’s murder. Only Officer Cullen, Deacon, and Adam know, because they were with you on Saturday.”

He paused when he heard a soft footstep on the other side of the open doorway. And smelled chocolate shampoo.

Dani was there, making sure that Michael was okay. That I’m okay. Well, Michael’s not okay. And neither am I.