It only takes a minute to run out to the lockers and pick up my package, and as an afterthought I stop in the gas station store itself to grab more ice, and some food. I hustle back to the car when I get a brief pang of fear that it’ll be empty when I get there. I’m never 100% sure that Fallow won’t decide he’s better off alone and split, and while that made me nervous initially because of my fear of Murphy’s reaction, the fear I have now is more complex. Not something I have the fucking bandwidth to examine right now, but it’s in me, whether I want it there or not.
He’s right here, though. Still with his eyes closed, but with a tension in his body that makes me think he’s paying close attention to his surroundings.
I throw the bag in the back seat and quickly pull us out of the gas station without another word. There’s a motel just down the street from here, and both of us could finally use some rest.
Fallow seems okay with letting me lead the way through the process of getting there and getting a room, and it’s making me more worried by the minute. I’ve seen a lot of sides of him so far, even if we’ve known each other for less than a week. The brutal, almost gleeful murderer, sure. The sex pest. The regular pest. But this solemn, inoffensive version of him seems so unnatural, I’m tempted to grab him just to get a reaction out of him that isn’t lukewarm.
I wouldn’t, obviously. But I want to.
He excuses himself to shower as soon as we get inside, and I take one right after him. As much as I’m worried about him, I’m grateful for the few minutes of solitude the whole process brings. On the face of it, nothing much has changed in my life the past few days.
Sure, things have escalated with the Aryans and Fallow being here has thrown a wrench in my shit. And sure, this road trip to get to the bottom of it all isn’tthatnormal for me. Butnothing has significantly, substantively changed for me. I’m still the low-level boss of a small cell of a shitty organized crime family, keeping my sex life extremely private and off the grid and looking forward to a long life of more of both of those things.
A short life is more likely, but I like to be optimistic.
The question is, why does everything feel different? I don’t know if it’s just a side effect of being around Fallow—someone so utterly unlike anyone I’ve ever met—but it’s like the fucking air has shifted and the molecules that make up my body are in a different flavor now. I don’t know what to do with any of that, though. Eventually, Fallow will leave to go and sow chaos somewhere else, and I will go back to my normal, medium-interesting life.
Maybe I should talk to Sav about this when I get home. He’s never really been a talker, and men in our business are always discouraged from feeling their feelings out loud or in any way that isn’t violent, but I bet he would get it. If anyone’s life has fundamentally changed, it’s Sav’s.
By the time I work through this rambling, messy train of thought, both Fallow and I are clean and semi-dressed. Well, I’m in my underwear, because that’s how I sleep, and Fallow is fully dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, despite the heat. I can’t pretend to understand why he’s so effortlessly comfortable being naked when we’re fucking but needs to button himself down more and more outside of that, but it’s pretty clear he has some control issues.
I’m not here to push it. Except right now, because it’s time to really push my boundaries with him. For a good reason.
I steel myself with a deep breath before throwing him a fresh ice pack and finally showing him the package I picked up earlier.
“Suture shit. I think the wound is shallow enough you can probably ice it pretty numb, and then I’ll go as fast as I can.”
Fallow opens his mouth and I can already see the objection sitting on his tongue, so I cut him off.
“You need it. Like I said, it’s this, or a clinic. I’m not exactly medical but I do have experience of this very specific skill, and I’m pretty sure if I can just get it closed it’ll heal up quick, but if it’s open then it’s going to take forever, and the scar will be fucking huge.”
My goddamn useless heart pinches at the flicker of stress on his face when I say it, but I shove the feeling aside.
“Seriously,” I continue, pretending to be calmer than I am. “Ice it, I’ll do my best to barely touch you, and we’ll have it over with in like fifteen minutes tops. Let’s just get it done.”
His face is carefully neutral as he watches me, but he can’t completely hide his anxiety. I know him too well, at this point.
“Where did you even get that, anyway?” he indicates the kit in my hand.
“Honestly, you can just buy them. They’re labeled as being for practice for student doctors or whatever but it’s all the same shit and it’s sterile. I wouldn’t fuck with you on this.”
I take a second to look at him—really look at him—and see if my words are lasting.
“I mean it. Scouts’ honor.”
When I hold up my hand in some approximation of a scout salute, he almost smiles. Not quite, but close enough. And I swear I feel ten feet tall.
All thisfeelingis definitely becoming a problem.
Fallow holds the ice pack to his face and slowly lets a little of the tension slip from his body while we both wait for his face to get numb.
“There’s no way you were a scout,” he says eventually, breaking the silence.
I can’t help but laugh, because he has a point.
“True, I was not anything even resembling a scout. But some of the kids I went to elementary school with were, so it’s close enough. I can still have honor, right? Isn’t that what honor among thieves means?”
Fallow nods, his expression solemn, like I made an excellent point instead of saying anything I can say to keep him distracted.
