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Yeah, they stressed about money and sometimes sniped at each other. Adam’s new aversion to intimacy was a problem, but there wasn’t a day when he didn’t feel like Vicente Martinez was a miracle, something he hadn’t done anything to deserve.

“You should go back to sleep,” Adam suggested again. Just because his Sight had decided to send him nightmares didn’t mean that Vic should suffer too.

“I’ll make breakfast.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Vic stood up and dug a tank top out of the drawer. “But it’s a way to be near you, even if you’re studying.”

Adam smiled and it ate away a bit of the broken-metal feeling of dread the nightmare had left in his chest.

Not all of his dreams of the future were terrible. Sometimes they were happy.

They were all infused with his Sight, so they all felt true, even though none of them had come to pass. It was like trying to sort through a jigsaw puzzle without the picture on the box.

The frustration did not clear as he worked through some of the chapters in his textbook. He’d bought the e-book to save money and even that had made him blink at the price.

Unfortunately, a used hard copy wasn’t an option. The class was too new. At least next semester he’d get to actually work on some cars. That would be an improvement over just reading about them and taking tests.

He tried to focus. He really did, but he quickly realized he’d gone two pages without taking in any information.

Adam closed his laptop with a sigh.

“What is it?” Vic asked from where he worked in the kitchen. His Aunt Sue would have called it a “one ass” room, since there really wasn’t enough space for both of them.

“Brain is too loud,” Adam said.

“What would help?”

“I hate to admit it, I really do, but maybe we should go for a run?”

Vic laughed. “Sure.”

“It doesn’t have to be now.” Adam nodded to whatever Vic had been making.

“Frittata. It’ll keep.” Vic turned off the oven.

They left a few minutes later. Vic had kept up his fitness routine when he’d left the police department.

Adam felt bad that he’d slow Vic down. He’d never been much for exercise, but his therapist had suggested it as a way to get his thoughts in order when he was spiraling, so he tried.

He hated it and hated even more to admit that she’d been right.

Today was a mixed bag. The threads of his thoughts didn’t quite pull together, but his mind had settled by the time they’d circled through the neighborhood, through Congress Park, and back.

“You’re getting better,” Vic said. “I barely had to hold back.”

“Liar.” But Adam smiled.

His breath was almost back to normal when they’d climbed the stairs to their floor.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Vic said. “Wanna join me?”

The invitation was there. Adam pondered it as they reached their door.

Did he feel better now? Was his PTSD at a level where he could handle being touched?

The answer was no. Just having to stop and check added a tension that deflated some of his interest.