Throwback Thursday: Roadhouse Reds: Why are you covered in handprint shaped burns?

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Clyde released him immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but it hurts like hell.” Jason whimpered. He leaned on the large rock he’d been sitting on the night before, but cried out again as soon as the rock made contact with his hip. Jerking away, he stumbled, and Clyde caught his elbow. The two stood like that for a moment as Jason fought to get himself back under control.

CLYDE LISTENED TO Jason’s labored breathing and the hitch in his voice when he tried to claim he was okay, growing ever more concerned at the sound. “Let’s get you to your room and see what’s wrong, okay?”

Jason let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

To Clyde’s surprise, Jason allowed him to aid him into the roadhouse and up the stairs leading to the bedrooms. By the time they arrived, Jason was shaking, and he rested his head against Clyde’s chest as soon as the door was closed.

Hesitantly, unsure of how Jason would react, Clyde ran a hand over the back of his head, hoping it would calm him a little. What he received in return was a soft sigh and the press of Jason’s body a little closer to his. Reluctantly, Clyde murmured, “Why don’t you sit down and let’s see what’s wrong?”

Jason nodded, then lifted his head, and Clyde could see how flushed his face was and that his eyes watered. The whole thing was making Clyde wonder if Jason had slept outside by choice, or if there wasn’t something more sinister going on. The answer to his question came moments later when Jason sat and unzipped his hoodie, cringing as he tried to peel it down his left arm. Clyde helped him, and as soon as they had it free, they could see the large red handprint on Jason arm.

Clyde looked at Jason, who was studying the print. “Who did this?”

Jason’s hazel eyes met Clyde’s, and Clyde could see the confusion in them. “I don’t know.”

Clyde scowled and studied the print closer. It was too large to be Trajin’s, and he was the only one that Clyde had ever seen spend any real time with Jason outside of work. The fingers were too narrow to belong to Dan’s beefy hands, and Clyde knew he hadn’t been anywhere near Jason since they’d worked together in the kitchen the night before, which ruled out all the males in the roadhouse. Being that the two women were more into each other than spending time with any of the men, it was doubtful this had come from them.

Clyde’s thoughts soon came to a screeching halt as Jason eased up the bottom of his T-shirt and the edge of another red, somewhat puffy handprint was revealed. This one looked more like a burn or a powerful slap than the other, and as the shirt came up farther, Clyde could see another print on Jason’s ribs. A calm man, typically, all Clyde was starting to feel was rage—rage at whoever had put these marks on the young man he’d secretly come to care for.

Jason pulled his T-shirt carefully over his head, and Clyde was glad to see that no more handprints were revealed. At least, not until he moved to Jason’s side to get a closer look at the one on his ribs; that was when he noticed the handprint in the center of Jason’s back, as if he’d been held down and beaten or branded.

“I’m going to go get the first-aid kit. Why don’t you see if there are more of them. I’ll knock before I come back in,” Clyde said, turning away from Jason and heading for the door.

Down the hall, Clyde found the first-aid kit and checked to make sure it contained burn cream and dressing, while still trying to wrap his thoughts around what could have been used to cause those injuries. It was possible that Jason had gone out partying somewhere, pissed off the wrong people, and been dumped by the rock. Clyde hated to think that anyone in town could be capable of such malice though. Those handprints looked like someone had deliberately set out to mark him, and Clyde wanted to know why.

For a moment he contemplated trying to talk Jason into going to the hospital ten miles up the road, but he was certain the young man would refuse. Clyde thought long and hard about calling the country sheriff, but he didn’t figure Jason would take too kindly to that either; and the last thing Clyde wanted was to give him more reason not to trust him. As it was, he didn’t understand why Jason was so apprehensive around him.

Carrying the first-aid kit back to Jason’s room, Clyde decided that, one way or another, he was getting to the bottom of those handprints. He knocked and listened for Jason’s response before opening the door.

Jason was seated on his bed, where Clyde had left him, though Clyde noticed that he’d changed out of his jeans. Bright rays streamed in through the window, hitting his sun-kissed skin and making the gold-blond of his hair shimmer. For a moment, Clyde forgot how to walk, or think, as he stared at Jason’s well defined abs and the muscles that rippled along his arms and chest. With all the baggy clothes Jason tended to wear, Clyde had never imagined he was covering up such a well-defined physique.

You can stop staring now,” Jason said.