“I think your disguise is working pretty good, at least. The women at the shop loved your makeup so much, they couldn’t stop staring at it, and still, they didn’t recognize you.”
Jameson smiled. “I loved them! So maybe we don’t need a secret bunker to be together? Because I can live with a scarf, if that’s what it takes.”
Gray shifted lanes, then pulled into the gas station parking lot. “Maybe I’ll take you on a proper vacation, the kind of trip you deserve.” He pulled the car up to a spot, then killed the engine as he turned to Jameson. “There’s a big world out there, and neither of us have seen it. I’m sure we can find some parts where no one knows Justin Sweet.” He smiled, holding Jameson’s eye, then laughed to himself. “Maybe I can even pick up another security job through my uncle first and pay for a few things myself.”
Jameson opened his mouth to object. He thought it went without saying, considering his short career had left him ridiculously wealthy. Like, rich in an embarrassing way, he thought. Gray didn’t have to get a job. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, as far as Jameson was concerned.
But he stopped himself from saying anything. The security company was important to Gray’s uncle, just like looking out for Raiden and Horatio was important to Gray. There were things that tied Gray down, and Jameson didn’t mind that at all. In fact, it was one of his favorite things about Gray, and the sense of family he felt around the bonfire was something he hadn’t known since he was a kid.
And anyway, if they were really going to make this relationship work, Jameson knew they would have plenty of time to talk things over. Whatever life they were going to make, they’d figure it out together.
“I’m going to run in and pay. You want anything?”
“I’m good!” Jameson said brightly. He nodded toward the squeegee on the side of the pump. “I’ll get the car cleaned up and ready for our last ride.”
Gray gave him a quick kiss. “Thanks! Be right back.”
Jameson watched him run into the gas station, a goofy smile on his face. He fiddled with the mirror, then glanced at his sore ear. It was time to face reality, but maybe, Jameson thought, it didn’t have to be that bad.
After all, he got to bring the dreamiest part of it all home with him.
Gray
Some cheesy popsong played over the speakers as Gray paid for the gas and another cup of black of coffee for himself. His eyes scanned over the tabloids just long enough to see Jameson’s face, plastered all over the place.
Not Jameson’s face, he realized. Justin Sweet’s face. What used to look like strength now looked like a wall of steel in Jameson’s eyes, something cold and sturdy to keep the world away. Without his style, Jameson looked boxier, with a strong brow and a stronger jaw that were unsoftened by the contrasts of his makeup.
It pissed Gray off all over again, that the world was so obsessed with that lie.
But then he read the headline, and his blood turned to ice.
“I said do you want your receipt?”
Gray jerked his head up to the woman working behind the counter. “Um, no, thanks. But I could grab this?” He tossed the tabloid onto the counter.
The woman chuckled, then nodded up to the television, playing on mute behind her. “Can you believe it? I just hope Justin gets back safe. I knew something was up. A guy like him would never do the things they were saying he did.”
Gray looked up at the news show. Sure enough, they were talking about Jameson, who had apparently gone missing.
And then the picture flipped, and Gray’s own face came on the screen. It was an old photograph from when he had tried to make an Instagram, a picture of him posing in a boat he and Raiden had built one summer, a rust bucket that never did make it off the shore. With his flannel shirt unbuttoned and a bottle of beer in his hand, it wasn’t exactly the most flattering picture, and thankfully, his face was all blurry.
But still, it was Gray, right on the fucking television.
The close captioning ran across the bottom of the screen:Wanted! Did this man kidnap Justin Sweet?
Gray darted his eyes to the ground. “Thank you,” he said, sticking the tabloid under his arm as he hurried out. “Have a good day!”
His heart pounding and blood ringing in his ears, Gray rushed across the parking lot. He was ready to puke. This was so, so much worse than he had expected. It was like when the men showed up at the bonfire. All the walls started falling down, and he was left exposed, vulnerable, and weak.
Definitely in no position to take care of the thing that suddenly mattered most to him in the world. Because after everything he’d done the past few weeks, still, Gray had crashed the ship. He’d fucked everything over, in ways so much worse than Jameson ever could have done on his own.
He wasn’t good enough for Jameson, Gray realized. And he’d been fooling himself to ever think otherwise.
“I’ve got some bad news,” Gray said as he approached the car. Jameson was standing there with the trunk of the Subaru open, staring down with a confused look on his face.
“You’re not the only one,” he said.
“Oh!” Gray said, suddenly realizing what was different. “The trunk.”
