1
Seth Mays
What would you do if I were outside your door right now?
The answer,apparently, had been to open the door and let me in. Which seemed like a good sign. At the very least, it meant that I wasn’t going to have to sleep in my car. Again.
I crossed the threshold of Elliot Crane’s house, my body aching and my heart uncertain. I looked around, taking in the polished wood, the wash of light coming in the massive windows from the end of the hall leading back. To the right was one of the only painted walls, a soft, pale sage green, backing the garage. To the left, another long hallway, most of the wall taken up by long windows. There was lighteverywhere, filtered through the lush green of leaves with splashes of color showing through them from blooming shrubs outside.
My eyes must have been huge as I took it all in. Ifthishad been my house, I wouldn’t have even considered moving away from the tiny town I’d driven through to get here, either.
“Shoes off, if you don’t mind,” Elliot said from behind me, his tone soft.
I looked down, finding another woven mat—much bigger than the one outside—inside the door beside a gnarled wooden coat tree. There were already several pairs of shoes on it—a pair of well-used hiking boots, some trainers, black suede loafers, and a pair of what looked like old moccasins. I let the backpack I was carrying fall to the ground, wincing as I bent to loosen the laces on my old trainers so that I could toe them off.
“You okay?” Elliot asked, and I flinched a little. I must have let out some sort of noise when I’d bent down—my knee was throbbing, my back ached, and my shoulders felt tight and knotted.
“I—It was a long drive,” I finally said. I didn’t want to start this off by complaining, whateverthiswas. I wanted him tolikeme. To want to spend time with me. To want me in his life. Complaining didn’t go a long way to endearing you to people in general, so I kept my actual thoughts to myself.
“Sixteen hours?” Elliot asked. I was startled that he’d known that for a moment, then remembered that Hart had probably driven it at least once.
“About eighteen,” I replied.
“Was there traffic?” he asked as I straightened up from removing my shoes.
“Not too bad,” I replied. “Some around DC, some near Cleveland, more around Chicago.”
“You didn’t gothroughChicago, did you?” He actually sounded horrified.
“No. Hart warned me about that. I don’t think I want to know what going straight through would have been like, given what Ididhave to drive through.” I grimaced. If I hadn’t been able to see it on the map, I would have assumed Iwasgoing through Chicago, at least until I passed the giant water tower painted likea rose that proclaimed me in ‘Rosemont.’ Which I guess was a suburb of Chicago, but was not actually Chicago.
I’d also hit more traffic going through Milwaukee, but that was just a slow-down, nothing like DC or Chicago. I’d gone around Pittsburgh, Cleveland, DC, Chicago, Milwaukee, and Green Bay—the last of which was significantly smaller than the rest. Not tiny, not like Shawano, but not like the other cities, either. I’d expected it to be bigger, honestly, given the fact that it had an NFL team.
I wondered if Elliot was a fan.
“Chicago is always a mess,” Elliot was saying. “Did you drive straight through?”
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I stopped in Ohio at one of the rest stop things.”
He blinked. “You slept in your car?” I couldn’t tell what emotion underlay his tone—judgment or surprise or something else.
I shrugged.
“Shit, Seth, no wonder you look like hell.”
I felt my neck flush, and I ducked my head instinctively.
“Sorry, but you do look like something the cat dragged in,” he said, his tone soft in spite of the relative harshness of his words.
“Can’t really afford a hotel,” I mumbled, feeling the heat creep up my neck and the tingles starting at the center of my palms. I clenched my fists, one holding the strap of Noah’s bag, the other at my side.
“Seth.” One strong hand gripped my upper arm. “Deep breath, baby shifter.”
I obeyed, feeling it catch at the top of my chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, even more softly.
I swallowed the saliva that had built up in my mouth, although the tingles were already going away. “’S okay.”
