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“If we get Henley, we’ll get Miller. WeneedHenley.” What he’s not saying is still loud and clear. They need Henley, which means they need to keep Henley happy. If Henley gets word that Nathan promised to share Carter on special occasions, he’ll see it as a snub that Nathan didn’t offer him as a gift for the night.
But Nathan doesn’t like it.
No, more than that. Nathan fuckinghatesit.
“I talked to the boss about it.” Nathan raises his eyebrows, having not expected that from Maison. Before he can question him, Maison continues. “I admitted that I’m not able to fully remove myself from this. Henley is too fucking important, you know? He’s the key.”
“What’d the boss say?” Nathan asks, curious about this man they rarely talk about. The man who controls their lives. The wizard behind the curtain in Oz.
When Maison answers, his voice is detached. He’s reciting the words, maintaining professionalism. “Carter is the holy grail of this world right now. To withhold him from Henley is to end things before they’ve begun. Offering the boy is the perfect opportunity to show that you’re serious. That you respect Henley enough to share this gift with him. A gift you haven’t shared with anyone else yet. He’ll be a fly caught in your web the minute you let him touch the bait.”
Nathan closes his eyes, bile rising in his throat as he pictures Todd Henley with his hands on Carter. He swallows hard once. Then again. His voice is still strained when he forces himself to ask, “Is that an order, then? Or just his suggestion?”
“It’s – uh-” Maison releases a shaky breath. “It’s an order, Trav.”
“Don’t.” Nathan pushes off the steps, standing in front of the mirror to stare at his own image. “You can’t keep calling me that. I’mNathan. If I have to do this shit, I have to do it as Nathan. I make Benny use the name too.”
There’s a pause, but it’s not as long as Nathan would have expected. “Alright, Nate. I get it. I respect that.”
“Thank you.” Nathan studies his reflection. It’s harder when he’s in nothing but his underwear. He looks so much like Travis without Nathan’s costume. Nathan touches the tattoos on his torso, tracing the trail of birds before tapping a fingertip on the bird still trapped. The bird that represents himself. Those are Nathan’s tattoos. His story. “I’ll offer him, then.”
They sit on the phone for a while after that, neither of them speaking.
So much gets said in the silence.
