“Why?”
I grinned at the flat tone of his voice as he eyed the chewed pen I was flicking between my fingers. “Huh?”
The quirked brow he shot my way was impressive. Complete with the look of “what the fuck am I going to do with you?” I knew I finally had his attention. “I’m bored. Let’s go to the pub.”
“What is it about booze and meds you think go together?”
“I didn’t say I’d have a beer.” Maybe my attempt at sounding innocent was what gave me away, as I could totally do with a cold beer. For three days, we’d done nothing more than take a few strolls—yes,strolls, not even fast-paced walks—down the gravel road and once along the gently running creek. We hadn’t seen another human being. Not to say that was a bad thing necessarily, but I could only sleep, watch Netflix, play cards, and talk nonsense at Sutton for so long.
“If anything, it’s for your own good,” I explained. “Just think, a bit more normality, and I’ll stop stealing your pens. I’ll even stop hiding the Post-it Notes.”
“I fucking knew I hadn’t thrown them away. Asshole.”
“You see… for your own good.”
He eyed me, and I could see him building up to his ground rules. I eased back on the sofa in anticipation. Sutton was always about planning and laying down the law of the land. To be fair, he was used to talking me out of schemes in the nick of time—usually stopping me from making a dick of myself. So with that in mind, I always heard him out. It was just, in the heat of the excitement, I tended to forget all about his well-laid-out plans.
“I’m all ears.”
Despite his sigh, the hint of a smile was obvious on his mouth. “You can have one light beer since your last painkiller was almost four hours ago. No dancing, no doing that weird line dance Ryan taught us last year, no pissing the locals off so they run us out of town, and no admitting who we are. We keep a low profile.”
Hell to the yes. Wide-eyed, I nodded and grinned, which immediately earned me a groaned “Oh fuck, why did I say that?”
“Ha.” I rubbed my hands together, excited at the challenge Sutton had unintentionally thrown down. And hell if it didn’t feel good—eager to have fun and hang out with my friend, the man who knew precisely what each expression I made meant. I stopped myself from telling him how much I missed him. I’d already had a couple of moments. That was my quota of the feels for at least a month.
It didn’t matter that I was a touchy-feely guy, and I usually said what was on my mind. When it came to sharing feelings with actual words… I wrinkled my nose at the thought. No, thanks. A hug, sure. Words just tended to get me into trouble and dig a proverbial hole.
“What’s with the weird face? What are you thinking? You need to shit before we go out? Because, man, I read about long drops, and knowing you, you’d end up wedged in the damn thing. To be clear, that happens, you’ll be finding a new friend.”
“Fiancé,” I corrected helpfully. “And you can tell me what a long drop is over my beer.”
“That’s a hard pass from me.”
I waved his words away, refocusing on what mattered. “Okay, my name’s Bellamy, and I’m a sheep farmer from… where do they have a heap of sheep?”
Rather than answer me, Sutton angled his face to the ceiling. I could imagine what he was praying for. That happiness in my chest doubled at his reaction.
“Okay, so no sheep. Let’s go for we’re brothers, searching for our father, and along this journey, strange things keep happening. Obviously, we’re badasses, so we figure out the weird shit… ooh, and we have a cool car.” Before Sutton could interrupt, I clicked my fingers. “No, the brothers thing is weird since I’ve had my tongue in your mouth.” His brows shot high at that. “Okay, so you’ve left your girlfriend, and we’re here on vacation. You’ve been down in the dumps, depressed, so I’m here as your wingman. We’re looking for big open country roads, but we’re also on the run. In that last town we stopped at, something happened. So now we’ve got a whole team of cops after us.” I angled to look out the window. “Do you think there’s a cliff or anything nearby? And we’ll definitely need to find a convertible to rent rather than the SUV.”
I turned my gaze back to Sutton. His head was in his hands, and I was pretty sure he was going to drop me off at the pub and leave me there. If not that, he would crush some of my sleeping pills and be done with me for good.
* * *
Without a doubt,the locals at this tiny run-down pub in the literal middle of nowhere were a hoot. Old boy Bazza was eighty-two, still lived on the same farm his dad had bought, could drink me under the table given a chance, and spoke with such a thick twang I could barely understand him.
He and the other group of locals in the pub in the early afternoon had me all but rolling on the floor in laughter. Bill, a truck driver, recounted a tale of a kangaroo smashing through the window at his sister’s home. “Struth, mate, the bloody thing was eight-foot tall, with guns as big as Schwarzenegger’s. It wrecked the whole bloody house as it bounced around the place.” He laughed loudly and shook his head. “My sister was there with a bloody broom, trying to shove the thing out, but it was too busy smashing the place, bouncing wall to wall to be worried about her…”
Sutton’s soft laughter reached me, and I angled to look at him. He looked relaxed and ate up the story, amusement evident in his gaze. As always, his laughter was gentle, light, which constantly took me by surprise and seemed at odds with his tall frame and muscular physique.
He made eye contact with me and shot me a wink. The gesture made my belly flip and pulled a fresh smile out, just for him. I turned back to Bill, though I shifted to stand next to Sutton. Leaning against the bar next to him, I edged close enough for our arms to touch and relaxed even further.
This, the contact, the crazy stories, Sutton’s happiness, I lapped it all up, drawing it in from touch. Rather than shifting away or even looking at me, Sutton turned a little, making our connection more definite. It was something he’d always done.
No word of a lie, I was a needy fucker and a touchy-feely barnacle. I craved physical contact, and Sutton had always given it to me so freely, knowing without any conversation what I needed. His touch grounded me, settling me in a way no one else ever could.
I’d never questioned it or analyzed it and probably only thought about it now as I’d gone a whole season without it. The thought made my hands sweat and skin itch.
And then his palm was on the back of my neck, squeezing lightly.
