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“Stop beating yourself up.” Seeming to sense the direction of Renzo’s thoughts, Canaan wrapped him up in a tight hug, their first contact since the ledge. “We’re safe because of you. Because of your fast thinking. If I’d been with anyone else, I’d be dead. And I tried telling Grandpa that, but somehow he listened better to you. Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” Renzo held him tighter, not letting go until the elevator dinged for their floor. “Now let’s see about getting you that shower.”
“You’re coming too.” Canaan waited for Renzo to unlock their room. Their bags were already waiting for them, someone, probably the guides, having rounded up their stuff from the campsite and deposited it here. The room was an upgraded version of what they’d had before—big king bed, sofa and sitting area in the corner, bigger bathroom, but Renzo really wasn’t concerned with the luxury of the accommodation. They wouldn’t be cold and hungry, and that was all that mattered.
“We’re safe.” He took a deep breath, not really believing it until that exact moment.
“Yeah, we are.” Canaan hugged him again as the door shut behind them. “We’re going to be fine.”
Renzo gathered him close, burying his face in Canaan’s hair, and just breathing his nearness in, trying to believe that. He’d been so damn close to leaving Canaan on the ledge, maybe never seeing him again. Fuck. He held on tighter. In a minute, they’d need to find the shower. In a minute, he’d use his mouth and hands and body to show Canaan how much him being safe mattered to him, but right then, he let his throbbing heart speak for itself and simply rocked him in his arms and tried hard not to lose it.
Chapter Fifteen
“We’re kind of dusty,” Canaan said when he could trust himself to speak. Renzo seemed to practically vibrate with emotion. Not crying exactly, but whatever it was, it was contagious, and Canaan felt like he’d been put through a Smoothie Palace blender.
“Yeah. Shower.” Taking a series of deep breaths, Renzo followed Canaan into the bathroom, which was larger than most standard hotel ones. Canaan supposed they’d been given some sort of upgrade. Everyone had been so happy to see him, crying and hugging. Apparently, when the two guides had made radio contact and neither group had them in it, they’d all thought he and Renzo must have died. Which was trippy, thinking again about how close they’d come to that.
They both stripped, dust raining down onto the pristine white tiles. His boots felt cemented on, and he had to pry them off with fingers battered from yesterday’s climb.
“I like it hot,” Canaan said as Renzo fiddled with the shower knobs. “After last night, I don’t ever want to be cold again.”
“I’m usually just happy for running water. Barracks tend to run tepid, especially at busy times.” Giving him a crooked smile, Renzo cranked it toward hot, and the room started to fill with steam. Canaan grabbed all the hotel toiletries from the sink and lined them up on the tub edge.
“We may need both soaps.”
“For real.” Holding out a hand, Renzo beckoned him closer. “Get in here.”
“Oh fuck. That feels so good,” he moaned. Renzo had moved so that Canaan had most of the spray, and the water pelted his parched skin. Something slippery slid down his back, and he turned his head over his shoulder to find Renzo soaping him up. “Dude. You saved my ass. You don’t have to wash me too.”
“I want to.” Renzo kept it up, lathering Canaan’s back, then his arms, even his neck and chest.
Canaan honestly wasn’t sure whether his skin or his heart were more raw. They’d used the sunscreen from Renzo’s pack throughout the day, so he didn’t think he was too burned, but Renzo’s caretaking still made his pores feel wide open. Emotional exfoliation, if that was even a thing. He released an unsteady laugh at his own silliness.
“What? Ticklish?”
“No. But let me play too.” Grabbing the second soap, he washed the dirt off Renzo’s massive arms, soaped his pecs. “You know, I’m pretty sure you could charge people for the privilege of soaping your muscles, and they’d be lined up around the block.”
“Maybe I just want one particular washer.” There was a seriousness around Renzo’s eyes, and hope fluttered in Canaan’s chest. Maybe...
“You think you could let me do it in San Diego sometime? I’ve got a private bath back in my little apartment. Nice shower.”
“That might be all right.”
Canaan would take that as a yes, yes they could continue this...whatever back home. And that was a pretty damn big win, so he couldn’t help grinning.
“I’ll wash towels just for you.”
“I’ll bring my shampoo. I’m picky.” Renzo studied the hotel shampoo like it might be out to get him. “This stuff better not make me all fluffy.”
