“Here.” Boyd handed him a bottle of cold vending-machine Dr Pepper. “All they had.”
Morgan rolled the bottle between his wrists, the chill some relief as it soaked into the bones.
“How long is this going to take?” he growled as he leaned his shoulder against the wall. “I thought she wanted to see me?”
He actually sounded almost resentful there, as though it wouldn’t be a get-out-of-jail-free card for the night if Donna Calloway sent him away. Morgan glanced sidelong at Boyd, andwhatevercould he come up with to pass the time? After all, he’d made a good-faith effort to protect Boyd from himself… and Morgan. It wasn’t his fault it hadn’t worked, and why waste what could still be Morgan’s last night?
Either in townoras a free man.
Boyd frowned at him. “Did you even listen to what I just said?”
“I was thinking about whether you still wanted to suck my cock,” Morgan said conversationally as he twisted the lid off the Dr Pepper. He watched Boyd’s ears blush a startled pink. “And if I’d let you. My mind drifted.”
Boyd cleared his throat and ignored that.
“The doctor wanted to make sure she was in the right frame of mind before you went in,” he said. Or, since Morgan could tell he’d heard the words before, even if he didn’t remember them, he repeated them. “He doesn’t want to upset her any more than she already is, and if she agrees to a DNA swab, she needs to be in her right mind.”
Morgan took a drink. It felt wet and cold, but once he swallowed, his mouth was still dry. He offered the bottle to Boyd.
“And how far is she from that?” he asked carefully. It wasn’t obvious whether Boyd would answer him or not. Whatever Boyd felt for Morgan—if there was anything apart from the possibility that Morgan could be Sammy—the Calloways probably mattered more.
Boyd bought himself a second as he accepted the bottle and took a swig. His eyes looked distant, and Morgan absently scratched his wrists as he waited for Boyd to come back to him.
“People want her to be crazy,” Boyd said slowly. “It’d be easier for them to deal with. She’s not, though. She’s just angry. And when she has to think about it, it just bubbles up and spills out over everything.”
“Like your teacher’s car?”
Boyd tilted his mouth at the corner in a shadow of a smile. “Exactly. Or Shay. Mac. Sometimes she’s so angry that she needs to make up a reason for it.”
“She sounds lovely,” Morgan muttered.
Guilt flashed over Boyd’s face. “I didn’t mean to sound—” He grimaced and tried again. “Most of the time it’s not like that. She goes to work—she works in pediatrics here, the kids love her—and she gets on with stuff. It’s just when stuff—anniversaries, birthdays, milestones—get on top of her that’s she’s at her worst. That’s when it just gets away from her. But she’s sorry afterward.”
Of course. They always were.
Down the hall, Mac stepped out of the room, his shirt pulled out from his body as he wiped something off the front of it. He glanced around and crooked his finger at Morgan. Old habits made Morgan balk sullenly at the summons, but Boyd headed obediently forward. Faced with being left behind, Morgan followed him.
“I’ve filled Donna in about everything,” Mac said. “She knows about the DNA match and that you don’t think you’re Sammy. I’ve asked her not to… overcommit.”
He brushed his hand down his wet shirt again at the same time he said that. The droplets that splattered over the tiles looked like tea. Morgan supposed he should be annoyed that Boyd hadn’t spilled the carefully edited story of Morgan’s childhood to Mac, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the loyalty.
“So what should I do? Or say?”
Mac shrugged. “Whatever you want,” he said. “Whatever feels right. Go on in.”
He gestured to the door, which was still open a crack. Morgan uncomfortably shifted his weight and took a deep breath of chemical-sour air. The lie he was about to tell felt like a hook ready to drag into that room. He didn’t know if he was more scared that nobody would believe him, or that someone would.
“You want me to come in with you?” Boyd asked.
Morgan did, but it would make it harder to lie if Boyd were there. “No,” he said. “Thanks, but… umm… whatever happens, I should talk to her face-to-face first.”
Boyd nodded, and then he pulled Morgan into a tight hug and slapped his back. It was about as platonic as Morgan could imagine anything that involved Boyd that close to him being, but Mac still pointedly cleared his throat.
“And for the record, you would,” Boyd murmured against Morgan’s ear as he stepped back. His grin was quick and crooked, but his hand lingered on Morgan’s arm for a second. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be here when you get out.”
Morgan almost changed his mind and dragged Boyd in with him, but instead he walked over to the door, rapped his knuckles awkwardly against it, and let himself in.
“Hi,” he said uncomfortably as he hovered on the threshold. “I’m Morgan. I guess you wanted to meet me?”
