The Alpha - Joel Abernathy Page 0,68

more than he had in days.

After a few moments of staring absently at the stars, willing his mind not to connect the vague outline of the decapitated head in their constellations, Ronnie decided to head back inside. When he turned around, he saw Colt standing in the doorway, and something about the look on his face made Ronnie wonder just how long the older ghoul had been standing there.

“Hey,” Ronnie said awkwardly, folding his arms. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry. I should’ve said something, I just didn’t want to startle you.”

It was a strange excuse, but not one Ronnie cared to poke holes in. It was the first time he’d actually seen Colt outside of a meeting in days, and until then, he had wondered if Colt was actively ignoring him or just oblivious to his existence. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but either way, Ronnie had decided to give him space.

“You’re up late,” Colt remarked. He didn’t seem to be intentionally blocking the doorway, but he was broad-shouldered enough that Ronnie would have to brush past him if he wanted to go inside, so he lingered on the balcony.

“I’d say the same to you, but knowing how little you sleep, you’re probably up early.”

The tired smile on Colt’s lips told him he was right. “Are you okay?” Colt asked, furrowing his brow. “You were quiet at dinner.”

Ronnie was surprised Colt had noticed him at dinner at all. His head had seemed even more in the clouds lately than Ronnie’s was. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, and classes have been rough lately.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He’d barely been able to stay awake during his lectures, so he had no idea what was going on. He was pretty sure he’d missed a test or two, but he was beyond caring about college. The trials and tribulations of academia seemed so mundane now. So meaningless.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t too bleary-eyed to notice the fact that Colt’s white tank top clung tightly to his muscular chest and torso, leaving little to the imagination. Even the cheesy barbed wire tattoo wrapped around his left bicep looked appealing on him.

Colt frowned as if he didn’t believe him. He was harder to lie to than Ronnie’s parents, that was for sure. Sometimes Ronnie wasn’t sure he wanted to think too hard about why that was. “You’ve been weird ever since…” Colt trailed off, as if he was as reluctant to say it out loud as Ronnie’s parents were.

Everyone tiptoed around him now, which just made the whole thing even weirder, but he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. He wished he could just forget, and he felt like saying nothing was the fastest route to pushing it all aside.

It had worked before. Mostly.

“I’m fine,” Ronnie repeated. He hoped he sounded more convinced than he felt. The doubt on Colt’s face made him think otherwise. “Yeah, I’m still a little shaken, but I’ll be okay.”

“I know things have been weird lately, but you know you can talk to me, right?” Colt asked with a worried frown.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Come on,” Colt said, taking a step closer to him. Ronnie’s heart thumped in his chest. “I’m not your parents. Don’t lie to me.”

Ronnie swallowed hard. He gripped the railing until his knuckles were white. “Okay, so maybe the whole killing a guy thing took a toll on me,” he admitted. “I’ve been having weird dreams, but all in all, it’s not that big of a deal, and you have more important things to worry about.”

Colt’s frown deepened. “There’s nothing more important than you,” he said firmly. Firmly enough that, as absurd as the words were, Ronnie wanted to believe them. Wishful thinking, perhaps. “What are the dreams about?”

Ronnie shrugged. “The usual. Just about everything that happened, sights, sounds and smells included.”

The faint lines on Colt’s face eased with understanding. “It’s hard. The first time, it sticks with you. I wish I could say it goes away, but…”

“Yeah,” Ronnie murmured, hugging himself. “Well, hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“There won’t,” Colt assured him. “I’m not putting you in another situation like that.”

Ronnie gave him a look. “I thought we talked about you not treating me like a kid.”

“I’m not,” said Colt. “I’m treating you like someone I care about. Someone who matters too much to put in the crossfire of all my bullshit.”

Ronnie looked away. He didn’t trust himself with those eyes. They always left him stunned and stupefied, like a deer caught in