Reed let go of Nate and stepped back as if Nate had struck him. But he didn’t have anywhere to go. Another shower of peeling paint fell into his hair like falling ash when his back hit the wall.
“I couldn’t tell.” The words rasped out of Reed. “I didn’t know.”
Nate stared at him, recognizing the hurt and longing in Reed’s eyes like he’d only just learned how to see. Their past was a fog of lies and pain, but he knew one thing clearly: he’d pushed Reed away again and again.
And Reed had never given up. Even when he’d made Nate leave the gang, he’d begged him to get clean, to come home.
He hadn’t known how Nate felt, and he’d fought for him anyway, with the stubborn hope that lit Reed up from the inside out, brighter than any of the lights in Gathos City.
Hope blossomed in Nate now, big and frightening—so much scarier than facing down the stillness. Looking down at his feet, he said, “I don’t know how to fix this.”
But he wanted to. He wanted it so badly.
Reed took his free hand carefully, rubbing his thumb over the knotted scars on Nate’s palm. The sensations were different now. Numb in places and too sensitive in others. Nate shivered, scared to look up at Reed’s face.
“I don’t believe that. You can fix anything.” Reed drew Nate’s hand up slowly, turned it and kissed his knuckles.
All Nate had ever known was how to run and hide. He was painfully exposed now, his eyes wet with tears, his fingers trembling in Reed’s. There was only one secret left. “I told Pixel I loved you.” His breath shuddered. “I always have.”
Reed’s gaze snapped up. He dropped Nate’s hand, and Nate started to stumble back, worried he’d said too much, that it was too much, too ridiculous. And then Reed’s mouth was on his, urgent and careful all at once. He pulled Nate against him, leveraging the wall, getting his fingers knotted up in the tangles in Nate’s hair. He cursed softly under his breath as Nate laughed and winced at the same time.
“I’ve never done this before,” Reed whispered.
“I can tell.”
“Is that bad?” Reed asked. “I know Alden—”
“No,” Nate said quickly. “Reed, no.”
Reed’s chest rose and fell with a quick sigh.
Nate nudged his nose against Reed. “I haven’t either. We never did anything. We weren’t together.”
“Are we together?” Reed tripped all over the words.
“Do you want to be?” Nate asked, knowing he sounded painfully eager.
“Yes. I want to be with you.” Reed’s exasperated breath puffed against Nate’s skin. “I’ve always wanted to be with you. I thought it was plain.”
“I never should have—”
“Stop. No more being sorry. No more.”
Reed dragged his mouth across Nate’s cheek and found his lips. It wasn’t like the broken, urgent kisses they’d shared before. This was sweet and unsure. Nate smoothed his hand up Reed’s strong arm in a way he’d never let himself before. Reed was familiar and warm and solid beneath his palm. A startling urge to touch more of him took Nate’s breath away.
“I like the way you chew on your lip when you’re working,” Reed said. “And how I can see you making plans, even when you’re quiet. I like that you’re brave. Even when you’re scared, you’re the bravest person I know.”
Brick had told Nate once that Reed didn’t have enough practice being loved on, and now Nate was surehedidn’t have enough practice having somebody say nice things. He squirmed against Reed, trying to make the kissing happen again.
“Are you trying to distract me?” Reed said against his mouth.
“I am.”
It worked.
Feverish heat unsteadied Nate from his head to his toes. He held on to Reed tighter and laughed a nervous sound into their kisses, certain his legs were going to stop working entirely.
“What?” Reed pulled away a little, like it pained him to stop. “Am I doing it wrong?”
