Gift shook his head. “You’re such a label snob.”
Park snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know that those jeans you’re wearing cost three hundred dollars,ouen.”
Park returned to the closet, snatching another hoodie and tossing it to him. It was a deep, blood red. “It gets cold at night where we’re going.”
Gift nodded and pulled it over his head, the hood catching as he pulled it down. Park reached out and grabbed the edge, tugging the hood over his eyes. “Now, who looks shady, huh?”
Gift batted his hand away, pushing the hood down, waiting until Park turned around to grab his boots before gripping the collar with both hands and bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply, the scent tugging at something deep in his core. It smelled like Park.Hesmelled like Park.
“I see you sniffing my sweatshirt, you little freak,” Park teased.
Gift flushed as he realized the mirror in the corner allowed Park to see Gift in the reflection. “You smell good,” he mumbled, letting it fall.
Park launched to his feet, dropping his shoes and pushing Gift backwards on the bed, straddling his torso and capturing both his hands over his head. “Don’t be embarrassed,ouen.” He buried his face in Gift’s neck. “I like the way you smell, too.”
“And how do I smell?” Gift asked, feeling a little faint.
“Like you’re mine,” he said against Gift’s skin.
A million butterflies took flight in Gift’s belly. “I am yours.”
“Oh, I know,” he growled playfully, rumbling against Gift’s neck until he dissolved into a laughing fit.
When it faded, Park sat up, hovering over him. “Are you going to be alright,ouen? Are you sure you want to do this?”
“See my mo—” He cut himself off, closing his eyes. “See Anchali?”
“Baby, you can call her your mom. She’s still your mom, even if she didn’t give birth to you. She loves you. She named you Gift for a reason. Don’t write her off just yet.”
His heart squeezed. Shehadnamed him Gift. Once upon a time, his mother had thought he was a gift, not a burden. His mother. She felt like his mother. Even when Gift thought she didn’t care, he’d always felt a connection, even if her love language had been micromanaging his life from a distance and coddling him until he felt suffocated.
Maybe she’d been his mother in another life. Maybe she was his mother in some form in every lifetime.
“Do you believe in the red string story?” he asked suddenly.
Park leaned into his space once more, so close it made Gift slightly cross-eyed. “The one that says the gods tied a red string around the ankles of those destined to find each other in every life? I don’t know. It’s a nice thought, though. I’d like to think I’ve loved you in every lifetime. That I’ll keep loving you in every one to come.”
Gift’s breath caught. “Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised? Do you not want to spend eternity with me?” he asked, tone teasing. “Already sick of me,ouen?”
Gift shook his head. “Never.”
“Good.” Park pecked a kiss on his lips. “Let’s go, baby. We’ve got a long drive out to the middle of nowhere.”
* * *
Park was right. The drive to Anchali’s took so long that, by the time they arrived, the sun was starting to dip in the sky, staining it pink and purple behind a smattering of fluffy clouds. It seemed to go on forever. Park said it would have taken less time if he hadn’t had to employ countermeasures to ensure they weren’t followed. Gift assumed those measures had been them circling back half a dozen times and making several wrong turns until the lady who lived in the GPS sounded angry.
After a long drive through scrublands over dry, cracked earth, they finally parked outside a small house with a broken wooden fence and a sagging open gate.
“Where are we?” Gift asked, looking around at the miles of nothing on every side.
Park pulled a gun from the glove box, checking that a bullet was chambered and that the safety was off. “According to the map?” he answered, as if what he was doing was as normal as tying his shoes. “Meadview, Arizona.”
“Oh,” Gift said, like that provided any clarity.
“Stay behind me,” Park warned as he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the vehicle.
