In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,84

glad you found him. You seem happy.”

“Yeah.” But then the small smile faded. “It feels off.”

Hunter furrowed his brow. “What does?”

“Being happy about anything.” James looked out at the dark driveway with a distant frown. “So soon after they died.”

“Aw, James.” Hunter shook his head, familiar with that dilemma. “Grief’s not a job you have to do. The whole point is to heal. And you gotta be happy any time you can, ‘cause you know there’ll be more times when you can’t.”

James nodded slowly, but his gray eyes were troubled, like he knew it was the truth but couldn’t quite figure out how to believe it. Hunter searched for something more helpful to say, something more personal that might convince him.

“For what it’s worth,” he said at last, though he felt a little self-conscious, “sometimes I just tell myself they’re watching. Amy, my grandma. Helps me take care of myself.”

“Do you believe it?”

“Try to. That’s the idea. I don’t analyze it. It just makes me feel better.”

James slowly nodded, like he was really considering it. “Do you talk to them?”

“Sometimes I think of what I’d say, if I could. So, yeah. In my head.”

“Maybe I should try it.” James looked down again. “I still don’t even know if I can…go to the cemetery.”

“Then don’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“Yeah,” James mumbled, adding wryly, “Guess they’re not going anywhere.”

Hunter smiled a little. In fact he was surprised to hear James actually conversing about it when, at first, he’d struggled to even acknowledge their deaths out loud. “You’ve come a hell of a long way in a week, man.”

“Maybe.” James paused. “But I can think of at least one time when somebody literally had to carry me.” A smirk slowly formed on his lips. “Two, actually. Second one was my favorite.”

“Careful,” Hunter warned him with a smile, though the thought of picking James up and taking him to bed did stir him up. “I’ll do it again.”

“You should be careful. I’m the kind of asshole who doesn’t care if you have an early morning.”

“Bullshit,” Hunter said fondly, putting an arm around his shoulders for a moment as they started walking again. But James hadn’t answered his question, and by the time they reached the truck, Hunter couldn’t stop himself from fishing again. “You’re staying awhile, then?”

“Yeah,” James said, looking at him like it was an odd question. “Obviously.”

For how long? For good? Hunter bit his lip, desperate for specifics, but somehow fighting back the urge to pester James like a needy boyfriend. “Good.”

“Yeah,” James said again, and this time he sounded slightly shy. He put his hands in his pockets again, reminding Hunter of that morning they’d gotten his car out of the mud, when he’d looked just like James Dean. “Goodnight, then. Thanks for setting this up.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hunter started to climb into his truck, then paused with his hands on the door as James was walking away. “James.”

James turned back with a surprisingly expectant look.

I need you to stay. Hunter took a breath. “You wanna get dinner tomorrow night?”

James looked startled, and for a second Hunter felt faint with doubt, but then James smiled suddenly. “I was gonna ask you that.”

“You were?” Hunter’s heart swelled alarmingly. “Well, you pick the place, then.”

“All right.” James gave him a beautiful, carefree grin, looking a little bit like Beau. “Night, Hunter.”

“Night, James.”

Chapter 32: Moving In

James got to the diner first. A diner was always cool, he thought. The black and white tiles, the neon Open sign, the scent of coffee after hours. Like a Jim Jarmusch movie. Classic. He slid into the booth and ordered a cup of coffee, looking out the window at Brooks Bay in the darkness, the sparse lights of the small harbor quivering on the black water.

Just when he’d taken his first sip of coffee, Hunter walked in wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and faded brown work pants flecked with paint, his blond hair tied back with a few stray strands tucked loosely behind his ears.

Jesus, he was handsome. With his hair pulled back, his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones were almost offensive. James felt a warm drift of dreaminess at the sight of his subtle smile as he greeted the waitress by name. Then their eyes met, and Hunter’s smile widened.

“Hey,” Hunter said, sliding into the booth across from him. Then he let out a soft, unexpected laugh. “This place really fits your style.”

“I’m flattered,” James said, feeling the grin on his