Walker shook his head. “No. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a loner. Feelings aren’t really my strong suit. How about you just tell me what you mean by needy?”
“I get clingy,” Kota said, “Like this.”
He burrowed closer to Walker. His legs tangled carelessly with his beneath the blankets, warm skin brushing against his. Walker brought his other arm around Kota’s waist, crushing him closer.
“That’s not so bad,” Walker said, realizing he meant it.
He liked holding Kota. He was small enough to fit right under his chin. He was warm, too. Like a heated blanket. A drippy one, but nothing was perfect. The kid practically radiated body heat, soft and alive against him in a way Walker found bizarrely soothing.
“I’m super insecure. I need constant reassurance,” Kota said.
“Reassurance of…”
Kota shook his head helplessly, like he didn’t understand why his brain did these things to him. “That you still like me, that I’m not annoying, that you’re not secretly mad at me, that you don’t hate me, that I’m not weird, that I’m not stupid or embarrassing or…all of the above.”
Each admission seemed physically painful for him to say out loud.
Walker was glad he didn’t experience life the way normal humans did. It sounded exhausting. He couldn’t imagine this kind of dialogue running in the background of his brain like some kind of demonic operating system.
But if all Kota required of him was to be told that he wasn’t weird or stupid or embarrassing—that Walker wasn’t mad at him—it seemed very little to ask, seeing as how Walker would not only be asking him to overlook him being a killer, but would essentially be making him an accessory to murder just by being with him.
“Okay.”
There was a long pause before Kota’s swollen face appeared once more. “Okay, what?”
“I can do that. You’re not annoying, I’m not mad at you. You’re not weird or stupid or embarrassing. In fact, I kinda like you in my space.”
The confession came easier than it should have. Disturbingly easy, actually.
Kota’s mouth fell open. “You do?”
Walker shrugged. “It’s only been a few hours, but yeah. You’re like a chattier version of Carrot Cake.”
Kota slowly glanced over his shoulder to where the fat cat lingered on a shelf. She trilled in their direction then stood and turned around, like she didn’t want them getting any ideas about fraternization.
“I-Is that a compliment?” Kota asked.
Walker shrugged, glowering at the cat. “I’m not sure. I just know that most people annoy the shit out of me. I can be around a stranger for about twenty minutes before I start imagining all the ways I could kill them and get away with it. I would never kill you.”
That, more than anything else he’d said tonight, sounded sincere.
Kota blinked at him, looking almost doe-eyed. “Thanks…”
“Sure.”
They fell silent for a while. Outside, rain started to fall, slow at first, then heavier, once more creating a soft white noise.The steady drumming against the truck wrapped around them, cocooning the cab in warmth and dim light. They’d been so wrapped up in each other, Walker hadn’t even noticed the rain had stopped at some point.
Kota’s muscles unclenched, his breath evening out. He wasn’t asleep, but it seemed like his panic had dissipated.
Walker found himself listening to the rhythm of Kota’s breathing with the same alert focus he usually reserved for danger.
After a while, Kota asked, “How long until we get home?”
The question hit Walker strangely. Home. Like Kota had already staked his claim on Walker.
Walker shrugged. “Well, I have to meet up with my handlers at The Morgue, and I still have to dismember Early’s corpse and?—”
“What?” Kota cried, that tension back tenfold.
