“It’s fine, honey, it’s fine.” She looked between them curiously. “Are you two stayin’ to eat, then?”
“Yes, please.”
“You bet. Sit anywhere you want, I’ll bring menus.”
They took a booth, and Morgan leaned back against the slick vinyl and closed his eyes. He was hungry, but more than that he was so sleepy he felt like he could pass out right there. Then he remembered the last time he’d napped while upright, and how badly that had turned out, so he blinked his eyes open and forced himself to look back at Ty, who was staring straight at him. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, almost like his pupils were dilating, before he looked down again. “The food is good here,” he promised. “And fast.”
“Good,” Morgan said—slurred, more like. “Because I’m not going to be able to stay awake much longer.”
Donna bustled over before Ty could say anything else, bearing a cherry-red smile and a pair of laminated menus. “The seafood chowder’s always good, but the special is from Ty’s catch,” she added with a little wink. “What can I set you boys up with?”
“Chowder, please,” Morgan said. “And a ginger ale.”
Ty nodded to indicate the same, but, “Just water for me.”
“Comin’ right up, boys.”
The food came fast, which was good because the silence was stultifying. Morgan wanted to talk—about anything but why things had gotten strange so fast with them—but Ty was avoiding his gaze now, so they sat in silence until it was time to eat, and then he was too ravenous to do anything but awkwardly spoon soup and crackers into his mouth.
“It’s good,” he said when Donna came to check on him. “Thank you.”
“You bet, honey.” She refilled his ginger ale twice and didn’t even blink when he asked if she’d add a six-pack onto the bill.
By the time they made it back to Parrish Island, Morgan felt like he’d been hit with a hammer. Even calm waters were no match for the ache in his shoulder, which had fired up again as soon as they’d set out. He couldn’t have a serious conversation now, and luckily Ty didn’t seem in a rush, just helped him out of the boat and back up to the lighthouse in a mirror of what he’d done that morning. Only this time, he didn’t stop at the door. He helped Morgan inside and back to the bedroom that still didn’t really feel like his, sat him down on the bed, and even helped take his shoes off before Morgan could stop him.
Ty held up the bottles again. “Which ones can you have now?”
“Neither,” Morgan said tiredly. “I only get them once every twelve hours as needed.”
Ty frowned. “Mmm. You need to rest.”
“Yeah.” He was going to be out as soon as his head hit the pillow. “Thanks for taking me. Seriously, you don’t have to do all this for me, I can—”
“I’m sorry.”
Morgan blinked. “Excuse me?”
Ty looked down at the floor for a moment, his brow furrowed with … guilt? Concern? Morgan couldn’t tell, but he didn’t like it. “I’m sorry I went away,” he clarified. “You said something to me, and I left because I couldn’t handle thinking about it, and I worried you. I worried you so much that you went away, and you were getting better before, but now you aren’t. NowI’mworried aboutyou, and …” His lips compressed for a moment, like it was physically hard for him to say what he was thinking about saying.
“You don’t have to worry,” Morgan said even though it was kind of nice thatsomeonewas worried about him. Even nicer that it was Ty, in a way. He’d missed him—missed his easy presence and reading at night and his sly sense of humor. Missed looking at him and seeing someone unlike anyone Morgan had ever known before, someone who touched his heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not that he’d say as much. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Ty shook his head. “You didn’t push. You, mmm, you were fine. You were doing what people do when they’re with someone they care for.” Well, that was true but uncomfortably insightful. “There’s something about me,” he continued, looking up but not quite making eye contact with Morgan. “Something that explains why I need to be near the water, why I can’t go as far away as the mountains. And I want to tell you, but I’m scared.”
It had to be some sort of psychiatric diagnosis. Morgan felt like a fucking heel. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said even though he was admittedly curious. “But you also don’t have to be afraid of me. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t mean to,” Ty said, which was close to agreement but also very, very far from it. “I’ll get there. Iwantyou to know, I just need time. Please give me that while I stay with you here.”
Morgan opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap.What?“What?” he finally got out. “What do you mean, stay with me here?”
“You need help.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Ty narrowed his eyes. “You were better with my help before. Now you’re worse.”
“Just a rough patch. I’m—”
“Please.”
