Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,43

tagging along. We were in this little coastal town, and this older guy took him under his wing. The dude was a vet, so he started with the dog, but I saw the writing on that wall. I can always tell, you know? A guy’s kinks are written on his face.”

“And this older man’s kink was a young guitarist?” I couldn’t help the tiny bite of judgment in my voice.

“Nah. He wanted to take care of my boy, and since my boy totally digs older dudes, it was fate. They legit fell in love, and my time with Beck was up.”

“So you…” I prompted.

“Stole all his shit and hooked up with a worthless party fuckboy.” Even in the faint light, a flush stood out on his cheekbones. He rolled his eyes. “It was a super big shock when that didn’t turn out so good.”

I groaned. “And you never once thought to stop by Comix and Games?”

“Hell no.” He bit his lip.

“Why not? For God’s sake, you’ve met my parents. They’d have put you in touch with Echo, helped you find a place to stay, fed you, and squeezed the ever-loving stuffing out of you whenever you let them.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry, Tug. I don’t understand. I really don’t. Please, give me blanket forgiveness now for all the times I won’t understand, because I’ll probably need it.” I swallowed back any more what-ifs and leaned back on my hands again.

A bare crescent of a moon hung in the sky. Tug was only a vague shape it sometimes illuminated, deepening the shadows over his features. The weird chiaroscuro added gravitas to the moment, making the little playhouse feel more like confession than a simple conversation between friends.

“Can I just—” The rest of his words were muffled because he slouched over and sort of laid his head on my lap.

“Oh,” I lifted my hands. “Okay.”

“It’s just…” He sighed. “You’re the only person who’s touched me without stealing a part of my soul in the last five years.”

I cupped his shoulder with one hand and dug my fingers into his hair with the other. Was it right to touch him like that?

Was it helpful or harmful to him? For me.

A test of my conscience came back inconclusive.

Whatever my brain was trying to tell me, my gut said this was essential. Tug was once my problem, but in a strange way, he was now my priority. But I didn’t want to mislead him about my feelings. That meant keeping things light, keeping them impersonal. Making sure he wasn’t jumping fences he didn’t have the momentum for yet.

It meant making sure I didn’t lose my objectivity.

“You know,” I said. “The rest of the movie is probably about second acts and finding new things to get excited about after you lose everything.”

He groaned. “Of course it is.”

“C’mon.” I helped him rise and jerked my head in the direction of the screen, which shone like a beacon across a stretch of grass and trees. “Let’s find out if they make their case.”

Tug sighed heavily, rolled his eyes, and slid down the slide. He landed on the soft surface of the playground and seemed to pose there—hand on his hip, head tilted to one side in a show of childlike bravado that dared me to do the same.

I slid down, took his hand, and walked him back to our chairs.

“Welcome back.” Without looking away from the screen, Mom rubbed between Tug’s shoulder blades.

“It gets better. I promise,” she told him.

Tug eyed me like I’d be responsible if it didn’t. Then his serious expression gave way to a familiar smug grin.

“It had better.”

Struck by a wave of familiar ambivalence—breath-stealing hope for Tug’s success and anxiety all around my growing attachment to him—I sat back in my chair and tried to relax.

Chapter Fifteen

Hope House, Day 75

Fuck. My. Life. Doc has me getting up at 5:00 a.m. to run with Roberta six days a week. She’s apparently a long-distance runner, which, seriously, that’s not the first thing I thought when I met her.

I make it about fifteen minutes before I’m ready to puke, and then I have to run back alone.

Doc says that exercise is medicine. I’ve been sleeping better lately, but I’m having seriously fucked-up dreams. They seem to last the whole night, going from one scenario to the next like movies. I no longer wake up in the scary parts, but also, I don’t die in them. Usually, I’m fighting something or somebody, and I just keep trying new