When I pull back, I don’t let him go far.
“Hey,” I say quietly, my thumb brushing along his jaw. “You doing alright?”
Something vulnerable flickers in his expression, but it’s gone just as fast. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You sure? I know today must be…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Difficult.”
His throat bobs. “It’s okay.” He inhales slowly, like he’s forcing it down. “Honestly, I’m mostly just bummed about missing out on my mom’s pumpkin pie. Store-bought just isn’t the same.”
I huff out a soft laugh, brushing his hair back from his face. “Yeah,” I say gently. “I think I might have something to help with that.”
His brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
I just grin. “You’ll see.”
Suspicion immediately takes over his face. “Troy—”
“Nope.” I tap his nose lightly. “Not telling you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair. Now, get off me.”
He groans and pushes himself to his feet. He sways a little before steadying, dragging a hand through his hair. “Where are we even going?”
“My place,” I answer easily, standing and taking his hand.
An adorable, confused frown tugs at his mouth. “For…?”
I glance at him, taking in the sawdust, the sweat, the way his shirt’s sticking to him. “You smell like a lumber yard,” I tell him. “You’re showering first.”
He pouts. “Rude.”
I lean in and kiss him, quick and soft, stealing the pout right off his mouth. “Love you, baby, but you stink.”
He scoffs quietly, but there’s a pink flush on his cheeks as we walk out of the barn. The cold air hits us sharp and biting, andhe shivers immediately, his breath fogging up the air as he falls into step beside me.
“So,” he says after a second, his voice quieter now, “what are we doing after I shower?”
I squeeze his hand as we reach the van, a smile pulling at my mouth as I open the passenger door for him.
“Then,” I say, glancing at him, “I’ve got a surprise for you, blondie.”
Ashton steps out of my bathroom in a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel through his damp hair, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and one of the T-shirts he left here. He’s got a drawer in my dresser now to store some of his clothes. A toothbrush in the bathroom. A couple hoodies slung over the back of a chair. Socks that never quite make it back to his home.
Little pieces of him, scattered everywhere.
He pads across the living room and drops onto the couch beside me with a quiet sigh, still scrubbing at his hair.
“Feel human again?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He sighs, curling into my side. His body heat seeps through my clothes, the citrus smell of my soap lingering on his skin.
Before I can say anything else, a familiar jingle cuts through the room. Cryptid trots down the hallway, trilling with excitement, and gracefully hops up onto Ashton’s lap.
“There he is,” Ashton murmurs, his voice going soft as he immediately starts petting him, fingers scratching behind his ears.
The cat answers with an indignant little chirp, curling into him like he’s claiming his rightful spot.
