TWENTY-THREE
The sky turned a mellow purple, then a brilliant pinky-orange as Flix watched the sun rise and waited for Joe to return. It hadn’t been that long — less than twenty-four hours. Flix had told Joe that he had three days to get to Ames and back, so twenty-four hours wasn’t long at all. But Flix worried. The group hadn’t spent this long apart since Devin and Peter had been kidnapped by Sanders and his asshole Sons. Look how that had turned out.
Devin groaned and shifted a bit, resettling his head deeper in Flix’s lap. He’d been flitting in and out of consciousness for a few hours, stirring enough to ask about Joe, snap out a few choice swears about what he’d do when Joe got back, and vomit. Then he’d curl in on himself, shaking, until Flix or Aria could make him comfortable enough to fall asleep. Or barring that, until he got so miserable he passed out.
Flix worked the taut muscles in Devin’s neck, stroking and pushing the way he’d seen Joe do almost every day since Devin’s headaches had started. A little looser. A little more. Flix switched to Devin’s temples and made slow circles. More of those. Down to the hinge of his jaw, coaxing it to relax. Smoothing his forehead. Finally, when the muscles in Flix’s fingers were on fire and Devin’s breathing was deep and easy, Flix slid his fingers into Devin’s hair.
He wasn’t sure if he was doing it for Devin or for himself, for the soothing, calming feel of the soft strands of gold slipping through his fingers as he worked out the tangles. He’d been working for almost an hour, and he had about half of it done. Not too oily. Flix had helped Devin wash it with soap and a bucket of cold water back at Clinton and Maribou’s, but Devin hadn’t been in any shape to work out the tangles and he was too stubborn to let Flix help with that part. Flix doubted Joe had thought to take care of it for Devin before.
Devin rustled again, but this time, he tugged Flix’s hand out of his hair, kissed it, then tucked it under his arm and hugged it to his chest.
Flix chuckled to himself. Devin was a cuddler. They’d all seen how he slept with Joe, piled on top of the guy like Joe was a mattress, but Flix still hadn’t expected to wake up in the barn the last few nights with Devin’s arms and legs wrapped around him like an octopus.
It was sort of sweet — this big, strong, rough-spoken man being such a teddy bear on the inside.
“You’re supposed to be keeping watch.” Aria stretched from the spot where she’d been sleeping near Devin’s feet and propped her head on her hand.
“I am.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Same.”
Aria rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky. “It’s hard, not knowing where they are.”
“I always hated being Marcus’s partner when we were...at work. It was gross, you know?” Flix flattened his hand on Devin’s chest and pressed until he felt Devin’s steady heartbeat against his palm. “But Joe and Peter being out there somewhere where I can’t see them, can’t know they’re safe... At least I had Marcus right where I could keep an eye on him.”
“I won’t insult you by saying I’m sorry —”
“Good, because I don’t want anything from you.”
“But I wish everything had worked out differently.”
Flix didn’t waste words on an answer. Instead, he thought back to that night and walked through it again for the millionth time. The last time he’d seen Marcus. The way Marcus had brushed off Flix’s last hug. Not worried. Innocent. But Flix had been innocent, too. He’d had notions about being brave, standing with Joe, rescuing Devin, coming back a hero. He’d been so dumb.
And now he’d let Joe walk out of his sight as cavalierly as Marcus had. What if he lost Joe, too?
They’d had no choice. Devin wasn’t getting better, and if they couldn’t move him, what else could they have done?
Not shove Joe out the door. Go instead. Joe was clearly in no condition to travel any farther, not without a full night’s sleep and three or four more meals. Had Flix been making the hard decisions when he sided with Joe and let him leave? Or had he just been happy to get a break from the way seeing Joe reminded him of Marcus’s death?
Voices carried through the air.
Aria rolled off her sleeping bag and snatched the rifle from Flix’s hand before he did more than jerk in surprise. She crept to a window, inched a bit of the barrel into the opening, and peered outside. Her shoulders drooped, and she lowered the rifle. “About Goddamned time.”
Flix wanted to jump up, to see Joe and Peter for himself, to do something, but he was still tangled up with Devin. So he waited, stroking Devin’s hair, feeling that heartbeat as his own pulse skyrocketed.
It took forever, it felt like, listening as the voices got closer, and then Joe was in the doorway, hair wet, cheeks pink, his mouth grim. He strode across the room, then knelt next to Devin’s chest, his hands usurping Flix’s on Devin’s body. He stroked Devin’s cheek and nudged him onto his back. When Devin stirred a bit, Joe smiled in a way no one had ever smiled for Flix. “Hi there, papi.”
Devin reached out and traced his way up Joe’s chest and neck to his face. He grabbed Joe behind the ear and pulled him close. Their heads bumped hard enough to make Flix wince, then Devin’s deep grumble said something, but Flix couldn’t make out the words.
“I had to so you could get well,” Joe answered.
Aria kicked at Joe’s hip. “Scoot over so I can work on him.”
Joe climbed halfway over Flix’s legs and stayed
