“These ones are fine.” Grayson had stayed at most hotel chains enough times to know which brands and scents of toiletries they carried. But this part was again different, having someone around so familiar with Grayson’s enhanced senses that they’d ask if he was okay with scents. “Are you actually going to take a shower? Do we need to put this on the news?Eyes on Empaths, maybe?”
Reece met his eyes in the bathroom mirror and flipped him off.
As the shower ran, Grayson changed into sweats and stripped down to his T-shirt. There was a for-purchase basket of overpriced snacks and sodas on the kitchen counter and he took all of it back to the king bed. He set the basket in the middle of the comforter, then sat on the side of the bed farthest from the couch and picked up the remote.
What am I doing?some part of his brain asked, as he flipped through channels.Am I expecting Reece is going to—what, exactly? Eat hotel snacks and watch television? On this bed? With me?
One of the stations was running a special from Canada’s best-known empath stand-up comic, and at least some of the snacks were vegan. And the bed was a king, wide as the truck cab, plenty of space for them to sit side by side without touching.
None of that is going to happen, the voice in his head said.You’re drawing from memory, that’s all it is, because Reece reminds you of things you liked in days long gone. But you don’t watch television. You’re not hungry. And most of all, you feel nothing. Put the food on the coffee table for Reece and go to sleep.
The bathroom door opened. “Hey, Evan?”
Grayson glanced over.
Oh. Shit.
Reece had one of the white hotel towels wrapped around his waist and not a stitch of other clothing on. His arms and chest were covered in beads of water and his damp hair was the darkest of browns, almost black. He seemed distracted by his thoughts, not even looking at Grayson, just chewing on his lip. “I’m not doing anything weird right now, am I?”
Empaths. So caught up in feelings they went oblivious to anything else.
“Weirdcan mean a lot of things, sugar,” Grayson said, and admittedly it might have come out a little bit tense, because maybe Reece hadn’t clocked that he was almost naked in a bedroom, but every muscle in Grayson’s body sure had.
Reece huffed. “I mean, I’m not like, projecting again or anything, am I? I feel a little buzzy, but I’ve been such a mess for months that maybe I just forgot what good feels like.”
It wasn’t fair, that Reece had been put into this state where he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt good. It also didn’t seem fair that Reece couldn’t remember he had noclotheson when they had this giant bed right here, but Grayson would just keep on noticing for both of them, apparently.
“At some point, we probably ought to have another conversation about your lack of survival instinct, if you’re feeling good around the Dead Man,” said Grayson, trying to sound very casual and not at all like his body was clamoring to sweep Reece up into his arms and toss him down on the bed. “But even if you were projecting, it couldn’t affect me, so what would it matter?”
“Your consent and boundaries matter too—”
“Reece,” Grayson interrupted. “You can relax. Don’t worry about it. It’s just us.”
“I guess it is.” Reece’s same small, almost shy smile from the store was back, like he had any right to be even cuter. Then he suddenly frowned. “You okay?”
Oh, great. Grayson cleared his throat. “Obviously.”
“You seem tense,” Reece said. “It’s hard to tell because usually people’s emotions will show what their body is going through loud and clear, and I can pick those up in a million different ways. But with you I can’t just fall back on habit, I have to pay close attention to all the physical signs. And I think your shoulders look tighter, and your voice is a little higher, and you might have this little tick in your jaw—”
“Look, I found candy,” Grayson said, holding up the snack basket.
Reece lit up. “Be right there.”
He disappeared back into the bathroom, then emerged again a minute later, mercifully dressed this time in some of the new clothes they’d bought, flannel pants and a T-shirt.
His gaze went to the television, where the show with the empath comic was returning from a commercial break. “Oh, I love her.” He was already scrambling across the room. “I can’t believe you found her special. Is that licorice?”
They settled on the bed together, Grayson on one side under the covers, Reece lounging on top of the comforter on the other side. The snacks were in the two feet of no-man’s-land between them.
Reece was grinning at the comic as he worked his way through the candy. “I saw her live when she came to Seattle. A few other empaths came into town for it; we went to her show and then we had an epic game night. Such a great time.”
Because when empaths were left alone, they just lived their lives like anyone else. It was only when people like Cedrick Stone started fucking around that Grayson had to step in and stop sadistic killers.
Buzzy, Reece had said. So was he still projecting? Well, Grayson had meant what he said about it being a nonissue at the moment. Obviously Grayson wasn’t going to feel it, no matter how much happy contentment might be pouring off of Reece like the vibrations of a purring cat.
Grayson slipped another inch down under the covers, resting his head on the pillows. Reece was a little in front of him, legs up on the bed, leaning back on his arms. He turned to look back over his shoulder, his smile like sunshine. “You would not believe how long it’s been since I’ve just relaxed and watched television. Thanks for finding something I can handle.”
He turned back to the show. Grayson slid down farther, until he was horizontal and the covers were up to his shoulders. It was a decent mattress, a soft pillow top and big enough only his toes were off the end. A lot of scents, but good ones, clean sheets and citrusy shampoo and candy, and Reece had a soft, bright laugh to go with the scents. For once, Grayson was around an empath who was content and happy, and even if Grayson couldn’t feel any of it—not Reece’s projections, nothing of his own—his body could still sense things like safety and peace.
