Kit shifted guiltily in his seat. “I wouldn’t call myself that responsible.”
“Such a responsible young man,” Ursula repeated firmly. She beckoned across the table. “Come, give me your phone number. Holden never lets us visit enough. I need an operative in the field to figure out his schedule.”
“He’s been really busy with his internship,” Kit said, out of a strange compulsion to defend Holden.
“See!” Ursula winked. “You’re already giving me such good information.”
Kit shifted in his seat. When was Holden coming to his rescue?
Sure, it was true that Holden avoided his family as much as possible. But it wasn’t for any bad reason, he just didn’t want them to realize what a murderous psycho he was…
Okay. Maybe that was a bad reason.
Kit couldn’t tell up from down anymore. Entering his number into Ursula’s phone, over the remains of his pineapple burger and the fries he’d stolen from Holden, both Radleys’ iced teas rapidly disappearing, the cheerful Butterfly Burgers logo beaming from the coasters—
Kit didn’t hate this.
Ursula and Quentin were nice. Prone to parroting the latest blog post they’d read, but nice. They seemed to like Kit.
A crushing sadness flattened Kit’s heart. For a moment, Kit wished he was the responsible young man Ursula said he was. That Holden was busy with a normal internship, not a glorified hostage situation with one of his killer co-boyfriends.
Kit wished he could introduce Holden and James and Darius and even goddamn Bishop to his parents too.
But Kit didn’t remember his mom, who was probably dead. And he’d rather forget his dad, who was unfortunately alive.
“—should come down to San Diego,” Ursula was saying. “Quentin makes the most exquisite quiche I’ve ever tasted—don’t tell my mother—and I won’t mind if you want to do a little weed. Only edibles in the house, though, the HOA will complain about the smoke if you—”
“I leave for five minutes and you’re offering to do drugs with my boyfriend?” Holden said, leaning against the back of Kit’s chair.
Ursula waved her phone. “I got his phone number, too.”
Holden glowered—and Kit laughed, all that crushing sadness fluttering away.
“What took you so long in the bathroom?” Kit complained as they settled back into Bishop’s car. “I thought you’d abandoned me. Bishop wasn’t any help.”
Bishop was going to drop Kit and Holden off at Darius’s. James would swing by later and pick up Kit, or send Carla. Sometimes dating so many men felt like another part time job, arranging all the meetups and sleepovers.
The gray sedan felt cramped but cozy, breathless until the AC kicked in and drove out the hour-of-parking-lot heat. They sat in their usual arrangement—Bishop driving, Kit in the passenger seat, Holden in the back and squeezing Kit’s shoulder before he buckled up. It was disorienting to realize theyhada usual arrangement. Patterns repeating into habits. Habits repeating into expectations.
The comfort was discomforting, which might be why Kit was leaning into his mostly feigned petulance. He planted his lime-green sneakers on the seat, knees up.
“Had Ursula Radley proven as dangerous as her son…” Bishop tapped Kit’s knee, then started the car. “I would have been very surprised but prepared to rescue you.”
Sighing, Kit obediently moved his feet to the floor. He still slouched, though. He wasn’t about to sit up straight or something appalling like that.
“You did take a while,” Bishop added. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Holden chuckled. “I wanted to give my mom and Kit some bonding time.” He touched the back of Kit’s neck—the sound of his breath warning enough that Kit didn’t even flinch. “And yeah, I wanted to fuck with you a bit, Detective B.”
Bishop didn’t even twitch at the nickname. Impressive.
As the parking lot gave way to city streets, San Corvo’s billboards zipping by, Kit leaned into Holden’s massage. Gentle, soothing. He’d like it a little harder but didn’t have the courage to say so with Bishop in the driver’s seat.
Besides, a harder massage would feel too good. Kit had other things to focus on.
“That went well, I think, right?” Kit asked. “They seemed to like me?”
“You sound so surprised,” Holden said fondly. “I told you they would.”
