Another shrug. “The calendar for that rental is wide open for the next three months. That owner is going to take any reservation he can get and not ask questions.”
Will grunted but, like the desperate cabin owner, didn’t ask questions. Cole wasn’t sure if the silence was because Will trusted him to have all their ducks in a row, or if he was pissed enough that he was willing to take his chances. Neither option made Cole feel any better.
The silence lingered all the way to their destination, which was a rickety house that had been tucked into the woods for at least a hundred years. It had been advertised as having “rustic charm,” which Cole could only assume was a nice way of describing a desperate need for landscaping, painting, and a new porch, not to mention a new roof.
He wasn’t going to turn up his nose at the condition of the place, though, because it was safe, secluded, and couldn’t be traced to him or Will. It could be wallpapered from floor to ceiling in AI-generated cubism and Marcus’s attempts at counterfeit paintings and Cole wouldn’t bitch. Not tonight.
Will didn’t have anything to say either. Cole had a feeling that had less to do with not looking a gift horse in the mouth and more because he didn’t want to talk to him.
As they followed the creaky stairs up to the two bedrooms, Cole knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. Theyhadto talk, and hehadto fix this.
I should get a shower first. It’s been a long?—
Cole. Just do it. Now.
He indulged in a petulant sigh, then schooled his expression and left the bedroom. Will had gone downstairs, and he was rattling around in the kitchen. When Cole walked in, Will was making himself a sandwich. He glanced at Cole but said nothing. Normally, Cole would’ve expected Will to offer to make a sandwich for him, too, dressing up the offer with pet names just to drive him nuts, but not this time.
Cole leaned against the opposite counter, resting his hands on its edges, and rolled his shoulders. “Listen. About earlier…”
Will’s spine straightened. Every muscle in his body went rigid, and his jaw worked. Still, he didn’t speak.
Cole struggled not to shift his weight. Every floor and fixture in this building creaked if he so much as looked at it sideways, and he didn’t want anything giving away his nerves. “What I said in the plane—it was a cheap shot.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as he’d said it, he cringed inwardly, expecting a barrage of heckling about how he probably never apologized for anything. After all, who ever said they were sorry in a rich, dysfunctional family? All accurate, too.
Instead, Will laid down the butter knife and turned around, facing Cole. “I can’t even tell you what’s worse—you thinking I’d sell you out, or you still thinking I’m to blame with all the shit with Marcus.”
Cole shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t actually think you’d sell me out. I didn’t think Lilith would either. Situations like this—I’ve learned the hard way a few times to be paranoid. Err on the side of distrusting someone and apologizing for it later. Because if you’re wrong the other way…” He half-shrugged.
Will quirked his lips, gazing at the linoleum between them with unfocused eyes. “Okay. Okay, I guess that’s true.”
“And the other part…” Cole exhaled, letting his shoulders sag. “I’m sorry. It—like I said, it was a cheap shot.”
Will’s features hardened as he glared at Cole. “I don’t get why you keep blaming me. I know it hurt. ButI’mnot the one who hurt you.” He paused. “AndIgot hurt, too, you know.”
It was Cole’s turn to break eye contact. All the emotions from that awful night bubbled up. The fury at seeing Marcus railing Will. The utter devastation as the reality had sunk in. The horror, wondering how long this had been going on. How much he’d hated every man in that room after that—Marcus, Will, himself.
In the present, Will asked, “What do I have to do to convince you I didn’t know about you?” He waved a hand in a weak, resigned gesture. When he spoke again, his voice was full of fatigue, frustration, and maybe even a note of hurt. “We’re literally hiding in Bumfuck, Virginia, because Marcus has turned just about every art thief we know against each other. We could’ve been killed multiple times since we went to Alders’s place. All so he can thin the competition and steal the Puffin.” He swallowed hard. “And you can’t believe for a second that he’d convince his sidepiece he was single?”
Well… fuck.
Will had him dead to rights. Marcus was and always had been a liar. Hell, he was a counterfeiter, even if he was terrible at it. So… yeah… it was on-brand for him to convince someone he didn’t have a boyfriend. Cole had just been so angry, so hurt…
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was just so pissed about it, and?—”
“So was I,” Will snapped.
Cole stared at him.
“What?” Will huffed a sarcastic laugh. “That never crossed your damn mind? That maybe you weren’t the only one who got cheated on” He threw up a hand. “Come on. Think about it. This man is actively trying to screw over everyone we know. Is it really a stretch that he’d convince two guys he was exclusive to them?” He laughed again, the sound caustic and dry. “We weren’t even the only ones!”
“We…” Cole blinked. “We weren’t?”
“No.” Will slouched back against the counter, folding his arms loosely as he shook his head. “A week before you busted us, I busted him with some other guy. That…” He deflated. “When you walked in on us? That was after he’d finally convinced me to forgive him for the other guy.”
Cole’s jaw went slack and his brain damn near short-circuited. “You… You two…” He shook himself. “Are you telling me I walked in on you two havingmakeup sex?”
Will’s nod was subtle but unmistakable.
