“Fuck no. This place is a shithole. I’m gonna fix up the duplex and sell it, then go back home. I just didn’t want to drive back and forth all the time.”
“So, you have a house?”
“Apartment,” Boris corrected. “Paid off till the end of the year. Was kind of a stupid decision, in retrospect. I should’ve just broken the lease and moved out here for a while. I kinda…” He trailed off, grit his teeth and mumbled, “…didn’t realize how bad the house had gotten.”
Jack frowned and found that he didn’t want to acknowledge the state of the house, so instead he said, “Must be nice to have that kind of money. To pay off an apartment, I mean.”
“I don’t,” snapped Boris. “I work for a contractor. But I guess I got an inheritance now. Kinda weird.”
Ah. That explained the biceps. Jack very carefully didnotimagine what Boris would look like after a long day of hauling construction materials around, because then he’d be distracted from… whatever this was. “Sorry.”
“It’s OK,” Boris sighed, pulling in front of the hotel. Through the fog, Jack could just make out the neon sign, a faintly glowingpink beacon. “I know how it sounds.” He glanced at Jack. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“Billington,” said Jack. “Kinda far.” Three hours by train, to be exact.
“Yeah, I know Billington.” Boris killed the engine. “Been there before. It sucks.”
Jack huffed a laugh as he threw open the door. “Better than this place.”
“Yeah,” Boris agreed. He shuffled his feet, caught Jack’s eye with such intensity that a wave of anticipation ran through him. “You’re ever in Hallard, hit me up, OK? I got a couch you could stay on. Or, uh, somewhere more inviting, if you’re up for it.” His voice trailed off, but his gaze never wavered.
“Oh,” said Jack. He rubbed at the back of his neck, couldn’t help but grin. His cheeks heated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that, um, might be good. Thanks.”
“Might be good, huh?” There was something feral in Boris’s smirk, a little too knowing, a little too pleased. Adrenaline rushed through Jack’s belly alongside a flare of arousal.
They pushed through the door. The bell rang out in cheerful opposition to the empty lobby that greeted them.
“Yeah,” said Jack, blushing up to his ears. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
Boris grinned over his shoulder as he headed for the front desk. “Pretty sureyou know what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, I—I got it. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If you ever get out of town, that is.” A wink. A flash of perfect teeth. Boris still didn’t believe him.
Right. This wasn’t the time or place, no matter how interested he might be. Boris didn’t know what was going on, so he couldn’t exactly consent, could he? Besides, Jack was hesitant to start anything he might not want to stop. Guilt churned in his stomach. “I’ll let you know,” he promised and started for the stairs.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Daylight crept beneath the curtains,illuminating a single square of carpet.
The phone rang. Jack grappled for the receiver, lifted it groggily to his ear.
“Wake up, motherfucker!”
Jack glared at the clock. 7:03 a.m.
Fuck.
The police refused to investigate.Jack chewed on his nails, wondering if he should mention that he’d actually confirmed there was a body. Probably not unless he wanted to spend all day explaining to a suddenly attentive police force why he felt compelled to dig up a grave, which he certainly didn’t.
When he hung up, hopelessness dug at his insides, threatened to tear him apart. Jack took a long shower, then made his way down to the lobby, where Boris was once again hunched over his magazine. There was no real acknowledgment in his face, no flicker of memory when Jack approached. He remained as bored as ever.
“Hey,” said Jack, careful to speak gently, just in case something had changed overnight. In case somehow, some way, Borisremembered. The possibility chewed at the dregs of Jack’s heart. Sometimes he couldn’t help but let himself think, at least for a moment, how nice it might be if someone else understood (even if he’d never wish this absolute hell on anyone). “How are you?”
“Fine,” said Boris, eyeing Jack suspiciously.
