nose. Brian dropped a hand to pat the dog without looking down.
A thin, queasy excitement began to rise inside Nick. “You promise you can keep yourself safe? You’d be really, totally fucking safe about this?”
Brian held out his hand, the ribbon on his open palm, and closed his eyes for a moment. “That way.” He pointed west. Then he looked at Nick and smiled. “And not even a headache.”
Ariana! For a second longer, Nick ran through all the objections, all the risks, everything they had to do to settle in this new home, but he couldn’t hold the wall against the tide of long-denied hope that filled his chest, stealing his breath. “All right.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Thank you. But—” He held up a hand against Brian’s grin and bounce of excitement. “We’re going to do it as right as possible. Which means taking the car to the station in the morning to gas up and check tires and such, and packing lots of supplies to take care of you, in case. Make sure Charlie and Lori can take care of Luger, and right now? Get some sleep.”
“Right. Sleep.” Brian didn’t stop grinning, but he came to Nick more slowly, without the jumping around.
Nick opened his arms. The devil himself would’ve wanted to hug Brian, when his eyes shone like that.
Nick’s face landed in his favorite spot, against the softness of Brian’s neck. He closed his eyes and nuzzled in, kissing that spot under Brian’s ear, then moving his lips to the rasp of stubble along Brian’s rounded jaw. “Thank you.”
Brian’s arms tightened around him. “It’ll work. I know it will.”
I hope so. I hope we find Ariana happy and healthy, in the end, not— He shoved away the nightmare parade. “I’m sure it will,” he murmured. “I can’t wait. Now come to bed.”
****
Two days later, Brian straightened his head away from the pillow of his jacket on the car window and groaned at the crick in his neck. He blinked sticky eyes. “Where are we?”
Nick glanced at him. “Nebraska, almost to Lincoln.”
“Seriously?” Brian eyed the flat stretch of highway, bordered by fields cropped to short stubble of brown and gray. “That’s one of the states I used to forget existed, in school.”
“Tut, tut, and so close to home.”
“Did you say ‘tut’?”
“Channeling one of my old teachers.” Nick grinned. “Seriously, this looks like parts of Minnesota.”
“I guess.” He tried to stretch but managed only a kind of contorted wriggle in the car’s cramped seat. “How far are we from home?”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Old home or new?”
“Sometimes I forget. Old.”
“I dunno. Six hours maybe? Thataway.” Nick waved vaguely to the right.
“Do you miss it?”
The hitch of Nick’s shoulder was neither yes nor no. “So much has changed. I wouldn’t know how to start deciding.” He laid his hand on Brian’s thigh. “Some of the new parts are awesome, though.”
“One-track mind.”
Nick slid his hand upward. “Are you complaining?”
“Nope.” Brian slouched down in his seat to push Nick’s touch higher and groaned in pain instead of lust as his back protested.
Nick laughed and put his hand back on the wheel. “Exit coming up with a gas station. We can fill up and walk around a bit.”
The station was typical for a highway exit— pumps a generation older than the sleek, video-equipped Minneapolis ones, and a quickie-mart with a shelf of locally made kitsch by the door. Nick filled the tank, while Brian took advantage of the clean but dingy bathroom and then bought a can of pop. When he stepped out the front door, snapping the pop-top open, he was caught by the sight of Nick in his shirt sleeves, cleaning the windshield.
How on earth did I end up with him? The low afternoon sun loved Nick, caressing his high cheekbones, sparking red highlights in his dark hair and pouring gold over the shape of his muscular shoulders in snug cotton. Not to mention highlighting the perfect curve of his ass when he leaned across to do the whole windshield with one sweep of the squeegee. Mmmm. Brian took a long swallow of pop and ambled toward the car.
As Brian approached, Nick looked up and smiled. Quick as a dark-haired cat, he set the squeegee back into the holder on the post, took two steps and swiped the can out of Brian’s hand. As he drank, he tipped his head back, baring the line of his throat to the glow of the sun.
“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” Brian muttered.
“Doing what?”
Brian laughed and tried to take