Wade’s grin was quick. “Well, now you’re all old and shot up. Nobody but me is going to want you now.”
“We’re the same age, asshole.”
“But one of us is a little better preserved than the other. Less damage to the upholstery.”
Jericho wasn’t going to take that bait. He didn’t want to fight with Wade. Not yet. “So you’re feeling more secure now? You’d be okay with leaving Mosely?”
“Yeah,” Wade said slowly, clearly bracing himself for the inevitable.
“Okay, then.” Jericho relaxed back into his pillows. “I think we should stay.”
“What?”
“We should go to my place when they let me out of here—or, hell, you could actually show me where you live and we could go to your place. And then when I’m less likely to have a weird relapse or something, we should go live in the woods for as long as we can stand it. After that?” He pushed himself up in the bed, trying to look like someone who had good ideas. “We should stay in Mosely. The damn town’s all messed up, and we’re all messed up, so it’s a good fit.”
“The town fights when it has to, and we fight when we have to, so maybe we belong there,” Wade mused.
“The town’s got a history, but it’s trying to build a future. Just like us.”
“The town’s about five miles off the highway and the streets are laid out in a grid pattern, and we’re—” Wade stopped. “Well, the comparison only goes so far, I guess.”
“But how do you feel about the general principle?”
“Staying in Mosely?” Wade made a face. “It’s complicated, obviously. You’re friends with the sheriff, who’s dating the man who’s spent the last couple years of his life trying to put me in jail. We’re not going to be having Scrabble nights with them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not. I hate Scrabble.”
“And Nikki and the kids are here. My mom’s here. All good reasons for us to get the hell out of town.”
“They are,” Jericho agreed.
“The town thinks they know who we are—maybe they’ll be a bit more open-minded with you since you already changed yourself once, but I don’t think I should be counting on that for myself.”
“Meaning we’ll have even fewer people wanting to play Scrabble with us. Sounds good to me.”
“Are you serious about this?” Wade asked.
It felt good to be the unpredictable one for a change, good to have Wade wondering instead of the other way around. So Jericho tried to look serene and mysterious as he said, “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Wade echoed. He squinted at Jericho, then shook his head. “No. Fuck it. Why do that to ourselves? Mosely doesn’t need us; it might be Mosely needs us to get the hell out so it can start pulling itself back together. And you know what else? I don’t give a shit what Mosely needs. You’ve shed enough blood for this damn town, and I’ve wasted enough years here. Let’s start over somewhere else. Somewhere we can be normal people.”
“Normal people?”
“Build a whole new life. White picket fence, two point four kids.”
“Maybe the fence,” Jericho said. “But not the kids. Kids are awful. If part of your planning for the future involves offspring, we’re going to have a problem.”
Wade grinned. “You can’t judge all kids by Nicolette and Elijah. Our kids would be raised right, and I’m sure they’d be lovely.”
It was almost time to panic. “Is there any chance our kids could have, like, tails, and fur? Four legs probably?”
“Well, yeah, obviously. I thought that would go without saying.”
“Okay, then.” Jericho let himself relax again. He was about ready for a nap, and it was nice to go to sleep with total confidence that Wade would be there when he woke up. “I’m in.”
“White picket fence? Mosely or somewhere else?”
Jericho thought of his struggles to speak when he’d first been coming round, thought of the questions he’d maybe been trying to ask, and realized that they didn’t matter. Well, What the fuck? was probably always going to be a useful one as long as he was with Wade, but the others? Where, when, why, or how? None of them were important. The only one that really mattered was who.
