It was an unfair, hateful reaction. Despicable. But Bishop was too clear-eyed to deny it. He was jealous that Holden knew more of Kit’s past than he did.
So jealous, his awareness of the current moment struggled to keep up. Entire seconds passed before Bishop read the hesitation in Holden’s face. The young man’s features, usually cold or sardonic or absurdly cheerful, tightened with uncertainty.
Then Holden came to a decision. “I promised not to dig deeper into his past,” Holden said, gaze burning like acid into Bishop’s soul. “I intend to keep that promise—even if it’s a mistake.”
The message was clear.
He wanted Bishop to dig instead.
15
The comfort was discomforting
Kit traced stars in the rings of condensation. The physical movement helped his nerves. He’d stopped himself from sipping the entire glass of water, because he didn’t need to spend the whole lunch in the restaurant bathroom.
The three of them had gotten to Butterfly Burgers early. Holden sat next to Kit, completely at ease. Bishop sat at a nearby table, with a basket of fries and a very believable focus on his tablet. There weren’t too many other customers around at 3 p.m. on a Monday.
Bishop was charged with supervising today’s outing. Darius was off doing… something. Assassinating someone or visiting his sister or pretending to be a financial consultant or whatever.
James was doubtless still enthroned in his home office, poring over his mom’s mirrored hard drives. Searching for evidence to prove a negative. He had been reserved in the two weeks since the hostage incident.
The quiet hurt was harder to handle than rage. Kit couldn’t fix it. All he could do was wait. Just being there would have to be enough.
Time certainly wasn’t helping Kit with Bishop.
Maybe Kit was imagining the tension ricocheting between them. Every other glance, it was gone. But Kit had far more pressing matters to worry about today.
Any minute now, Holden’s parents were going to walk through the front door.
They were going to be disappointed—at best.
Kit touched his wrist, finding bruises by touch through his thin sweatshirt. He pressed into them, the sweet pain a distraction. His condensation-wet fingertips were cold. This bruise was from James. This one was from Darius. The bite mark on his chest was from Holden.
There were no bruises on his throat today. Nothing visible above the collar. Everyone had been so careful of his neck this week, without any explanation. Like a secret, unspoken agreement not to humiliate Kit for today’s challenge.
Thoughtful of them. Kit was perfectly capable of humiliating himself.
“Don’t be nervous,” Holden said, nudging Kit’s knee under the table. Kit had been very clear about the parental meeting ground rules: no blatant groping during lunch. “But you can cling to me if you are. I’ll protect you from the big, bad suburbanites.”
“They’re going to hate me,” Kit said, using his dramatic whine to cover up his real concerns. “I’m a high school dropout leeching off my three boyfriends. That’s not even counting the sort-of part-time job with the guy I want to…”
Kit sipped his water, not daring to look at Bishop. Could Bishop read lips? Bishop could probably read lips. What a fucking bastard.
“Your three boyfriends are murderers,” Holden pointed out calmly. “You look saintly in comparison.”
“Your parents don’t know that!” Kit protested.
Holden switched Kit’s near-empty cup with his own. “They’re still going to love you. Especially since you’re not—oh, shit, they’re here.”
Holden blew a kiss towards Kit, then made his way across the restaurant. The fluttering neon Butterfly Burgers logo danced above the door, illuminating two people who looked exactly as Kit had imagined.
Quentin Radley—tall, thin, blond—clapped Holden on the shoulder and said something about parking.
Ursula Radley—also tall, thin, blond—stared intently at Kit. Her narrow features drew together, then cleared. As if a ray of hope had lightened her mood.
As if a skinny high school dropout with dire emo-adjacent fashion sense was exactly what she wanted to see.
Kit attempted eye contact with Bishop, but Bishop appeared intent on his tablet. Then Kit’s phone buzzed.
