“Alden’s steady every once in a while.”
Reed flinched, and Nate immediately regretted saying anything at all. His breath gusted out with a tired sigh, despite having slept for a day. He hung up his coat and dropped all the tech from his pockets into a small bucket by the door so Reed could see that none of it was missing if he cared to look.
Reed climbed up to get his bag from the scaffolding. “We’ll head out now that you’re here.”
The gnaw of guilt in Nate’s bones worsened. He’d held them up when they’d been ready to scavenge. He crouched to unlace his boots and jerked, startled, when Sparks put her hand on his shoulder.
“Whoa,” she said, laughing. “You look fit to bite my hand off. I just wanted to check your head. Doesn’t look too bad.”
Brick came up beside her and peered at Nate. “Heard you were a hero out at the train wreck.”
He braced himself for teasing, but she wore a crooked grimace—Brick’s version of a smile.
“Until I got trampled.”
Sparks gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You can’t help being small.”
“Never had that problem.” Brick threw her shoulders back and angled her body through the hatch. “You did a good thing, Nate.”
The duct made a hollow ringing sound as they climbed down together, their voices mingling like distant music. Nate envied the companionship of their nighttime scavenging runs. At least he’d have Pixel to keep him company when the hideout got quiet.
Reed hopped down from the scaffolding and lingered at the hatch on his way out. “Do you remember when you found us?”
Nate fought an embarrassed grin and nodded, pushing his hair out of his face. “Don’t remind me.”
He’d gone to Reed after seeing Brick’s brother, July, walking into a public den known for chem use and flesh trade. Reed had asked him for help with a smoking electrical wire outside their hideout.
“You climbed up that pole without a look down. I’d never seen anyone do that before. You weren’t scared at all.”
“My aunt showed me how to use my belt to shimmy up pipes and poles.” Nate shrugged, squirmy under the intensity of Reed’s gaze and unable to pinpoint what shone there. “I knew what I was doing.”
“You fell.”
Nate rubbed one eyebrow. “Well. I looked down.”
At you.
Reed stepped closer, one hand motioning like he meant to touch Nate. But he stopped and swallowed. “You landed on me, and we were fine, you know?”
It had been one of the most mortifying moments of Nate’s life, but after that he’d met Brick and Sparks, and he’d spotted Pixel hiding behind a trash bin. And he’d felt something—a deeper longing than anything he’d ever known. A desire to belong.
Months later, when he’d left Alden, half-starved and weak, he’d gone straight to Reed, and Reed had let him stay. Everyone had use for a Tinkerer.
Nate didn’t know why Reed was bringing it up now, over a year later. He had a feeling Reed had a lesson in mind, something about being careful, but he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to say. “I remember.”
Reed watched him for a long moment and offered him a small smile. “Good.”
They exchanged the night’s code, and Nate locked the hatch behind him, hands aching with emptiness. He lingered there, catching his breath and shaking off the unease of their conversation and his relentless desire to pull Reed close andholdhim.
Pixel skipped over, ducking under his arm and demanding his attention.
“Did Sparks do that?” Nate asked, gently tugging one of Pixel’s ponytails. Stripes of frayed blue fabric wrapped around each puff of curls. Sparks didn’t have the heart to tell Pixel she was too old for babyish hairstyles.
Pixel pushed her shoulders back and preened. “Sure did.”
Neither did Nate. “You should be sleeping.”
She held her rag doll closer, and her smile became a stubborn line. “You should be sleeping too. Your head’s all tore up. “
