“Fine, I’ll wish for you.” Reed patted Nate’s back, the simple touch jolting heat through Nate. “New tools. A better pair of gloves. Yours have holes in half the fingers.”
“That’s two, and you’re cheating.”
“I can go on. A new blanket. Shiny filament tech nonsense that does something interesting and very electrical. I can tell you’re trying, Nate.”
The words slipped out too fast, like Reed was afraid Nate would hear them.
Nate’s mouth went dry. It was his turn to change the subject. “Kiwi.”
Reed blinked. “What’s kiwi?”
The man in front of them started his shower in a hurry and shot Reed and Nate a sour look.
“Not for me, for you,” Nate said, lowering his voice and trying not to grin. He hadn’t felt like this in as long as he could remember—electric with hope, lit up by Reed’s quiet faith in him, by the touch that still warmed his back. He didn’t care if they were talking too loud in a room where people rushed in and out, eager to be safe wherever they spent their time hiding. For this moment, he wasn’t afraid to be trusted. “It’s a fruit. Another furry one, like peaches, but. . .sharp. It makes it feel like your tongue is going to stick to the inside of your mouth.”
“You’ve had one?”
“When I was little.”
It was Reed’s turn at the shower. He began to undress and winced as he leaned over.
Nate took his arm and urged him to stand up straight. He glanced over his shoulder. They were alone now. “I’ll get it,” he said, crouching to help Reed out of his pants and boots. He flushed, his knuckles skimming through the hair at Reed’s calves where the muscles were wiry and his skin, warm. “Your turn.”
Heat seared up his back and pooled in his belly, dizzying him.
“Am I wishing for you or for me?” Reed held on to Nate’s shoulder for balance and stepped out of each leg of his pants. His brow furrowed.
Careful not to let Reed’s clothes get into the water on the floor, Nate stood and clutched them to his middle. “For you,” he said.
The water splashed down on Reed’s head and shoulders. He yelped and started laughing, his body tense and twitching. “Hot tea and a big, fuzzy blanket,” he said, teeth chattering.
“That’s two again. You’re terrible at this.”
“I have a lot of wishes,” Reed said. The water clumped his eyelashes together as he watched Nate. It made his eyes gleam like he was sad and happy all at once.
Nate handed him the bath sheet and turned away politely—and reluctantly. Reed dried himself off with one end of it, leaving the other draped over his arm and dry for Nate.
“Thanks,” Nate said, gesturing at the sheet. He undressed in a hurry, already chilly before hitting the water and grateful for the way the cold settled his eager body down. A cough burst out of him, and he doubled over, willing it not to become the type of cough that went on and on until he saw spots.
Reed grabbed his arm to steady him. The grip tightened painfully.
“Ow!” Nate gasped and looked up at Reed, shocked by the sting and the iciness in Reed’s eyes. “What?”
“Your arm,” Reed said. His thumb rested at the edge of the marks and bruises where the Diffuser had pierced him.
How could he have forgotten? His insides went hollow, every wish shattering. He placed his other hand over Reed’s as if he could will him to unsee it, to believe in him again. “Reed, it’s not—”
But Reed was already throwing him off with a disgusted growl. He dressed quickly, shaking with the kind of anger Nate had only seen in him once, when he’d turned a young man away from the gang. The kid’s arms had been like Nate’s all over, ravaged by crude syringes.
“Let me help you,” Nate said, shivering. He hurried to wash the dust out of his hair. “Wait a second, Reed, and I’ll help you get dressed. You shouldn’t be bending down too much!”
Reed grabbed his boots and walked away without looking back. Only the bath sheet remained, half wet and half dry, hanging on the rack beside Nate’s clothes.
Nate followed Reed’s wet footprints back down the stairwell, wanting to run but afraid to catch up. He knew what was coming. The hurt of it numbed his cold fingers.
Reed met him at the entrance to the hideout, his hair still damp and gleaming. “I can’t make exceptions. Not even foryou,” he said, putting a strange emphasis on the last word.
“I told you. It’s not what it looks like,” Nate said, the words barely escaping the tightness in his throat.
