Page 79 of Twisted Shadows
Reece sat up, bringing the seat upright with him as he held the cozy coat blanket in place. Night had fallen while he’d been unconscious, the highway a dark sea with red taillights. At some point the rain had become big fluffy white flakes of snow that caught in the truck’s headlights and landed on the windshield. The seat warmer was on and Grayson had cranked the heat up, making the truck cab feel like a glimpse of summer in the heart of winter. Reece could almost imagine driving through a warm night in Texas, windows down and sunroof open. Parking somewhere they could lie in the bed and stargaze together.
He shook his head quickly, to clear it of those kinds of thoughts. Lusting after Grayson he might be able to deal with; feelings were absolutely off-limits. “Any chance you’ve got something to drink stashed around here?”
Grayson gestured at the cup holders, where a pair of paper cups with lids and straws were sitting. “I hit up a drive-through in Bellingham. Told the cashier you were a deep sleeper.”
“Now that’s a bald-faced lie.” Reece picked up the cup and took a sip. Vanilla cream soda. He smiled around the straw.
Grayson twisted, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes on the road while he started to reach into the backseat. “Got you some kind of veggie—”
“Hands on the steering wheel,” Reece snapped. “I’ll get it.”
“Sugar, you can’t reach the backseat. Not without unbuckling your seat belt, and I know you’re not gonna do that.”
“Excuse you,honey,” said Reece, and he’d been aiming for sarcasm to match Grayson’s patronizing, but damn. That had rolled off the tongue a little too easy. “I can too reach.”Lie.He pinched his lips together, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach. “I’ll just wait until the border.”
“Empaths.” Grayson put on his blinker.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding you.” He pulled onto the shoulder and popped on his hazard lights. He stretched one long arm into the seat behind Reece and came back with a paper bag in hand. “Here. And take itcarefully, unless you want to spend a few more hours unconscious.”
Reece chanced a glance at him. In the dark of the truck’s cab, he couldn’t see the missing emotions. Just his partially lit face, the high cheekbones, the line of his jaw. The lips Reece could lose himself in until nothing existed but Grayson.
“Thanks,” he muttered, painstakingly avoiding Grayson’s hand as he took the bag. He dug in and found a veggie burger, Tater Tots, and three fruit-filled pastries. Reece might have been the endlessly awkward mayor of Weirdo Town, but Grayson understood him, neuroses, quirks, and all.
He popped four Tater Tots in his mouth as he pulled out his phone. “Did you already tell Jamey—aw, fuck.” His cheeks flushed. “You took apicture?”
“Thought you’d want to see it.”
“I thought pictures of you were classified!”
“They are.”
Reece narrowed his eyes. “So now there’s a top secret picture of me ass-up over your shoulder?”
“There sure is,” Grayson said. “You would’ve been face down on the pavement if I hadn’t caught you. And remember you only got yourself in that position because you went and knocked yourself out.”
Ugh, that was an annoyingly fair point. “And you needed to carry me like thiswhy?”
“So my hands were free to open the truck,” Grayson said, like that had been a stupid question with an obvious answer, which in fairness it probably was.
Reece’s gaze stayed on the picture, how unbothered Grayson looked by his weight, the way his arm wrapped around his thighs to hold him in place.
It was infuriatinglyhot. Reece could extrapolate a whole damn night from this one image, bickering but laughing as Grayson carried him across the studio to toss him down on the bed, Reece’s mouth on his until they were both kiss-drunk, his hands on Grayson until he’d mapped every inch. They could have so much fun together.
If they weren’t who they were.
Reece took a breath through his nose. “Tell me you let Jamey know where we are but without the picture.”
“Being the Dead Man doesn’t mean I have a death wish,” said Grayson. “I know better than to send your sister photographic proof of me manhandling you.”
How about you come over here and manhandle me some more—Reece shook his head to try and clear away that wildly unhelpful thought. “What’s our plan for the border?” he asked, like a subject change could somehow make him stop wanting Grayson. “I don’t have a passport.”
Grayson cleared his throat. “You don’t actually have anything but your phone, your wallet, and the clothes you got on.”
Reece groaned. “I didn’t even think of that. What was your big plan there?”
“We’re going to Canada, not the moon. Last I checked, they have stores.” Grayson gestured at the glove box. “And the border plan is in the first aid kit.”
