Danny headed toward the stockroom, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back once.
Ash stood by the meat cooler, holding a package of steaks. His head slowly turned, his grin rearranging the rhythm of Danny’s pulse.
Face flaming, Danny ducked through the stockroom door.
What have I gotten myself into?
* * * *
Hours later, Danny was sitting on his bed in nothing but a towel, the damp cotton sticking to his thighs. Water droplets glided slowly down his back from his still-wet hair, each one tracing a path between old scars. Summer heat pressed through the thin walls of his apartment, making everything sticky despite the rattling window unit that wheezed like an asthmatic smoker. The address Ash had written on his palm had long since been scrubbed away, but Danny had already memorized it. Typed it into his phone. Stared at the little blue dot on the map at least twenty times since getting home.
723 Maple Ridge Road.
Was he actually thinking of going?
Isaac was currently hunched over on Danny’s bed, painting his toenails a violent shade of purple. “Stop overthinking it.” He didn’t even look up from his careful brushstrokes. “You’re going.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”
“Your face did. You’ve got that constipated look you get when you’re about to bail on something good.”
Danny shifted on the bed, towel sliding dangerously low. “Maybe it’s not good. Maybe he’s—”
“What? A serial killer? A cat hoarder? Secretly married?” Isaac finally looked up, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. “Or maybe he’s just a hot guy who wants to watch Harry Potter with you. Revolutionary concept, I know.”
“It’s been a year since—”
“Since Brad,” Isaac’s said quietly. “And you’re letting that asshole still control your life. You know what that means?”
“That I have excellent self-preservation instincts?”
“It means he’s still winning.” Isaac scooted next to him, making the springs creak. “Every time you say no to something that might be good, every time you hide, he’s still controlling you. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then get dressed. Go watch wizards or whatever. Worst-case scenario, the movie sucks and you never have to see him again.”
Worst-case scenario is a lot worse than that.
But Danny was already standing, already pulling open his closet door, revealing a sea of black fabric, chains, and leather. Band shirts from concerts he’d gone to before Brad decided they were “too loud” and “attracted the wrong crowd.” Ripped jeans the asshole had hated. The leather jacket he’d hidden once, claiming he’d “put it somewhere safe.”
All the pieces of himself he’d slowly reclaimed over the past year.
Too much. Ash had seen him at work, in his polo and khakis. Showing up looking like he’d raided Hot Topic would be... what? Trying too hard? Not hard enough?
Plain T-shirt. Blue. No band logos, no skulls, nothing that screamed anything. Jeans that weren’t ripped. Safe. Boring. Nonjudgemental.
Danny grabbed a black Misfits shirt instead then put it back. Grabbed it again.
“Jesus Christ, it’s not prom.” Isaac had returned to his toenails. “Just wear something that makes you feel like yourself.”
Himself. Right. Like Danny even knew who that was anymore.
“Oh my god, you’re being tragic.” Isaac flopped backward on the bed. “He literally asked you out after seeing you in your work uniform. With the black nails Pike hates. He knows what he’s getting.”
Maybe. Or maybe Ash liked the idea of fixing someone. Brad had been like that at first too. All smiles and patience until Danny had trusted him enough to let his guard down.
Don’t think. Just put on clothes.
