He stripped down to his boxers and tried the jeans first. They were snug in the thighs but roomy enough to move in—cut for work, not show. The hoodie felt soft and was thicker than it looked. And when he tugged on the sherpa-lined jacket, warmth settled over his shoulders, grounding him.
He caught sight of himself in the narrow mirror and stilled. He looked normal. Like someone who lived here. Like someone who might have a job, a routine, a goddamn life.
He wasn’t sure yet who that man in the mirror was, but he didn’t look broken.
Bryce gave him a once-over when he emerged. “Fits?”
“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, but there was certainty in it. “It does.”
Before he’d even started to get his head around this, Bryce took the clothes back from him and tossed them down on the counter with a casual thump. “Pick a belt,” he said over his shoulder. “And grab another hoodie while you’re at it.”
Colby took a navy hoodie from the stack, not because he liked it more than the red that Bryce had picked out, but because… well, maybe he did. He wasn’t sure yet. It felt like the kind of decision people were allowed to make when they weren’t just trying to survive.
The clerk rang everything up with the bored air of a man who’d done this for too many years, and Bryce handed over a card like it meant nothing at all.
Colby shifted his weight. “Thanks,” he said quietly. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to express what was inside him, but he was pretty certain Bryce wouldn’t want him to say more.
Bryce held his gaze with a warm steadiness that Colby was coming to realize characterized him.
“You don’t owe me,” he said. “Just pay it forward, if you have the chance.”
Colby nodded. That sounded like something he could do.
Bryce nodded back. And then, like he hadn’t just done something extraordinary, he said, “Don’t let Tristan pick your cologne. He once got me something calledWolf Moonfor my birthday. I still have the migraine.”
Then he was gone, out the door and back to work, the bell jingling faintly behind him.
Colby turned back to the counter as the clerk packed the last shirt. The bag rustled when Colby took it, and it felt like the tangible promise of a future he hadn’t dared imagine.
The door jingled again, and Tristan strode in, sipping a milkshake and looking smug.
“Hey, Colb. Miss me?”
Colby rolled his eyes, trying to disguise the uprush of excitement he’d felt the instant he’d seen Tristan. “You were gone five minutes.”
“Long enough to get these,” Tristan said, and held up a plastic pack. “Socks. Your current ones all belong to Karl, and they’re terrifying.” Slight overstatement, but Karl did seem to have a thing for dinosaurs on his socks.
Tristan reached for a hoodie in soft gray, the same color as Colby’s eyes.
Colby blinked. “Bryce already—”
“Yeah, but this is the fun part where we get toaccessorize.” Tristan turned, already scanning the racks. “You like cowboy hats?”
“I—” And then Colby didn’t know what to say.
“I mean, you don’t have to have one, not if you don’t want,” Tristan said swiftly. “But you’re gonna need it, and also? You’lllook hot as hell in one. Though, to be honest, you look hot in everything. Especially this jacket.”
Colby found himself holding a brown leather jacket.
“Boxers, briefs, or something else?” Tristan paused for a moment. “Tell me if I’m being too much and you want to pick out your own stuff. I just like doing this with you. Shopping, I mean. Not picking out your underwear.”
He shot a look at the clerk, who was busy stocking a shelf, and apparently not listening. “Though, actually, that bit’s awesome too. Maybe you want to model them for me later? Anyway, help me choose sneakers first. Looking the way you do, you must work out a lot, so you’ll need them.”
Colby didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying not to give in to the laughter bubbling up inside him, made of pure happiness. Which became significantly harder when Tristan added a t-shirt readingI Paused My Game To Be Hereto the growing pile and said, deadpan, “For formal occasions.”
Colby laughed, letting out some of the feelings fizzing through him. “But how—”
“Matt,” Tristan said, pulling a credit card from his wallet with a little flourish. “I told him we were going shopping. He handed this over, said you’re drawing from the pack account today, but you’ll be adding to it soon enough. Money, time, whatever—we all contribute in different ways. That’s how it works.”
