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Martin quickly glanced at Nick. Nick shrugged; he wasn’t going to say anything. He’d already been told he was imagining things.
“Nah,” Martin replied as he shook his head, smiling back at Magnus, “but I could really use a pint of something tasty. If you see Vik, let him know the cabin’s ready. We’ll get his info from him and be good to go.”
“What the actual fuck? Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Nick demanded, repeatedly shutting his eyes and opening them again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
They’d had a beer each and shared an order of fries—thank fuck also that Martin did not like the heinous aioli Liam did because that could’ve been a deal breaker—and then headed back home.
“I’m seeing it,” Martin confirmed.
A single car was parked in the lot below the cabins. A lone, very shiny, black Toyota Sequoia.
Martin pulled in and parked next to it. The driver’s side door opened, and Nero Vik appeared, giving them a small wave.
“What the actual fuck,” Nick said again.
Martin waved back and opened his door to climb out. “Come on.”
Nick wasn’t sure if he was glad Martin didn’t say anything about Nick being a complete fool or if he was pissed because he should have.
“Sorry,” Nero said as he tugged a ball cap over his head, presumably to keep the wind from having its way with his long hair. “I guess I was in a dead zone and didn’t get your text till a few minutes ago. I drove right over.” His glance bounced from Martin to Nick and back to Martin. “I hope that was okay?”
MARTIN
Fact: Thundereggs usually look like ordinary rocks on the outside, but slicing them in half and polishing them often reveals delicate patterns and colors.
Nick was flopped on the couch with one arm thrown over his face. Jane had immediately taken up residence on his chest.
“I’m an idiot,” he announced for the umpteenth time since they’d given Nero the tour and the key to Five.
“It’s a mistake anyone could make. You’re not an idiot, Nick. You saw something out of the ordinary that bothered you. It turned out not to be what you thought, but that doesn’t make you an idiot.”
Martin pushed Nick’s feet down so he could sit next to him. Jane shot him an evil look as she climbed up the cushions to her usual spot.
“I’d convinced myself that the car had something to do with Lizzy Harlow’s death.” Nick snorted. “Like we were going to make a citizen’s arrest and end up the Hardy Boy Heroes of Cooper Springs. I hate that her body was just left there at the bridge and I heard nothing that night. It feels like I failed a test.”
If Martin had learned anything about Nick Waugh in the past months, it was that he held himself to a standard that was almost impossible to reach.
“You didn’t fail a test. There is no test when it comes to something like this. I want her killer brought to justice as much as you do. Besides, have you considered that Nero Vik doesn’t own the only black Toyota Sequoia in the state? In the region? The one we saw today, we don’t know if that was Nero’s or someone else’s. We didn’t get a plate and”—he shrugged, leaning into Nick’s warm body—“we just don’t know.”
“I don’t like not knowing.”
“I get that.”
Nick abruptly changed the subject. “I’ve decided not to go back to the International Press.”
“Okay.” Nick had told Martin that his contact there kept emailing with offers and that even though he needed the money, he wasn’t sure about accepting.
“I don’t feel it anymore. It’s not even that I ended up in the middle of a gunfight.”
Jane chose that moment to tumble down from the top of the couch into Nick’s lap. Almost automatically, he started to stroke her tummy, which earned him a four-legged hand grab and an attempted bite. Nick laughed, a sound Martin loved.
As tempted as he was, Martin kept his mouth shut. He knew Nick wanted to stay, but Nick needed to say it with his own words.
“I hate talking about this kind of stuff,” Nick huffed, still focused on Jane. “Liam says I should try and express myself more. Like, about happy shit.” He quickly glanced at Martin. “Happy is a weird space for me. But since we got together, I think I’m the closest I have been in a long time. I don’t know how, or why, but…” he sighed as if resigned to a fate worse than death. “I like you a lot, Martin.”
Martin laughed, then gently picked up Jane and set her on the floor before curling one hand behind Nick’s neck and laying a claiming kiss on his lips. Nick moaned and shifted, wrapping his free arm around Martin’s shoulders. The rapid pulse in Nick’s throat, the way his scruff rasped against Martin’s cheek, his short, spikey hair between Martin’s fingers as they kissed. It was everything Martin’d ever dreamed of and an unfathomable more—it was love, he knew.
He pulled away. Nick stared up at him, his pupils blown and his lips puffy.
