Page 73 of Under Water

“We can probably find proof. Especially if you’re right about the tracker,” he says, squeezing my fingers. “Do you think you can find it yourself?”

“Yeah.” And I mean that. I just didn’t think of it until right now. My head is fuzzy, and every atom in my body is exhausted. I’m so tired of this fight. I just want it to be over, and it feels like Neal has made it his personal mission to never, ever let me get a moment of peace.

“Rune?”

“Mm.”

“I think we should go to bed.”

I blink. “Oh, uh…yeah. I’m happy to crash here. If you have a spare blanket⁠—”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He pushes to his feet and takes me with him, then tugs me down the hall to the very end where his bedroom is.

The door is cracked open, and I see a large bed with a very short frame, a dresser with a mirror on top, several pieces of what look like original artwork of abstract ocean design, a doorway that leads to a bathroom, and a walk-in closet that’s open.

Clothes cover almost every inch of the floor.

“Don’t judge me. I can be kind of a slob,” he says, following my gaze. “But the bed is clean, and there’s plenty of room for two.”

“Oh. I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” I murmur.

“No one’s going to know,” he promises. He closes the door almost all the way, then tugs me close before bumping me back against the wall. When he presses his body against mine, I can’t help the smallest groan.

There’s not a chance in hell I could get hard right now, but that’s not even what I want. Him touching me like this is an almost visceral comfort that I’m terrified to accept because I won’t want to live without it once he takes it away. And it kills me to think there’s some mystery man he likes better than me—someone he’s waiting for while he does this with me.

But he deserves to be happy.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch after everything you went through,” he murmurs. “If you’re determined to sleep alone, you take the bed.”

“Easton,” I whisper.

He raises a hand and touches my lips with the very tips of his fingers. “I love the way you say my name,” he murmurs. So I do it again, and he groans. “Will you let me hold you? Just for tonight? After everything, I think you need it.”

I want to argue, but he isn’t wrong. He must read the second I lose that fight from my face because he smiles, then carefully strips me out of my clothes. It’s only then that I’m aware of how much I smell like smoke, and I pull back.

“I should shower.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Through that door. I’ll grab you clean sweats while you run the water. Then I’ll come wash your hair and scrub your back.”

“I am a grown-ass man,” I start. “I can scrub my own body.”

He laughs. “Well, so am I, and I want to wash your hair and scrub your back. And maybe behind your ears.” He tugs on one of my lobes. “Just accept a little bit of pampering, okay? Just this once? How long has it been since someone spoiled you?”

Fuck. My throat goes tight again because the answer sucks. But I can’t lie to him. “Never.”

He glances down. “I thought so. No more arguing. Through the door. The water gets hot as fuck, so don’t go too far past the middle. I’ll be right in.”

It seems like I have no choice.

And if I’m willing to be honest with myself, right now, I don’t think I want one.

FIFTEEN

EASTON

I feel like I have popping candy under my skin right now. I don’t know any other way to explain the feeling I’ve got as I rummage through my dresser for something that’ll fit Rune comfortably. I find a threadbare T-shirt and a pair of sweats that I haven’t touched in a while, so I toss them on the bed with a fresh set of boxers, then creep down to the second bedroom to peer in on Elio.

As Rune said he would be, he’s passed out with one arm flung over his head and his mouth open. He’s got a BiPAP on, the mask attached to his nose, and the machine makes a whirring hum a bit louder than a white noise machine.