“He bought a deli,” Hill said. “Now he’s working for himself.”
“I might be able to work with that,” Seb said slowly. “In fact, that could actually work out well indeed. But what’s in it for you? Most people who escape death, don’t come courting it again.”
Hill took a shallow breath. Months on…sometimes it still felt strange.
“I want to live,” he said. “AndI want Davy.”
The ache in his voice was so raw, so obvious, that Hill could feel Fraser’s disappointment in him from halfway across Dudley.
Seb looked surprised, and maybe interested.
A pale tentacle, scored with old, pink welts of scar tissue, reached out to grab a bottle of whiskey. It lifted it and poured aglug of memory into a smeared shot glass held in scarred hands. Dark blonde hair curled damply against the back of his neck and a black t-shirt pulled tight over broad shoulders.
“I don’t like doing this any more than you like me doing it,” Davy said conversationally as he took a drink of the whiskey. The dead man he held upside down, dangled from one ankle, made a sound that didn’t sound entirely like agreement. It didn’t seem to bother Davy. “So why do you keep making me do it, Carlisle? Pay your debts, and I won’t have to—”
Hill smoothed his hair back from his face with one hand. He felt the—ordidn’tfeel—the dead scar tissue on his palm.
“Davy,” he said.
Carlisle, whoever he was, hit the ground with a thud as Davy let go of him. The glass of whiskey followed suit as Davy bolted up out of his seat. He turned around and stared at Hill. The flash of dismay that crossed his handsome face made Hill’s stomach twist with anxiety. Before he could panic himself into something stupid, Davy crossed the distance between them with three long, quick strides.
Tentacles whipped around Hill’s waist, shoulders, and thighs as Davy pulled him into a deep, frantic kiss. It was a good thing neither of them needed to breathe, they wouldn’t have been able to.
“How are you—” Davy finally pulled back enough to ask. He cupped Hill’s face in his hand, grazing his thumb over the curve of his lower lip. “Hill, what did you do?”
Hill leaned forward and rested his forehead against Davy’s. He tangled the fingers of both hands in unruly, cropped blonde hair that was just as dense and soft as he’d imagined.
“Not that,” he said. Promised. “I wouldn’t do that to you, or mom. I made a . I don’t know what it will cost me, in the end, but it’s worth it.”
Davy started to stay something. Then he stopped. Tentacles tightened around Hill to pull him closer, warm and forward and familiar. He closed his black eyes and breathed in as if he could inhale Hill.
“I missed you,” he said.
It shouldn’t have beenenough. Hill had seen enough declarations of love and devotion on TV to know what heshouldexpect, what he should want from this. Except Davy was Davy and Hill was Hill.
Somehow, it was more than enough.
It was everything.
From behind Davy’s back someone cleared their throat. “I can leave,” Carlisle offered from where he still dangled. “Come back later?”
