Page 29 of Follows with Intent

Nico laughed. The breeze picked up in the trees ahead of them. Branches moved. Light flashed on mottled bark. Pompom clusters of seeds drifted out across the sky. Put your arm around me, dumbass, Nico thought. Hold my hand.

But instead, Jadon said, “Do you remember I asked you for a favor?”

“You told me going to dinner with you would be a favor. Which—keep this in your back pocket—is actually a terrible pickup line. Next time, try telling me how you’re so desperate for me that if I don’t go to dinner with you, you won’t eat or sleep, you’ll waste away because all you’ll be able to do is think about me.”

“Yeah,” Jadon said. “That doesn’t sound psycho at all.”

“A little psycho is cute.”

“You might be a niche audience.”

“Tell me about the favor.”

“So—” Jadon hesitated, and it was hard to tell because of the run, because the whole world seemed pink in the sunrise, but it looked like he might be blushing. “So, I’ve kind of been going through it. Okay, not kind of. I’m a mess.” And then, like a man plunging off a cliff, “And that’s part of the reason I stopped texting, which I realize was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

Their footsteps rang out against the pavement for a few yards before Nico said, “Okay.”

“You’re not going to scream at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Make a scene?”

“Maybe later.”

“I was under the impression there would be…consequences.”

Jadon’s words carried a note of humor, like he was trying to keep things light, but he wasn’t joking, not entirely. That had been one of those sleepless confessions, Nico explaining—why, oh God, why had he decided to explain—all the stupid things he did when he felt scared and threatened and vulnerable. But he’d been working on them. He’d been working on himself. And, more to the point, he didn’t feel vulnerable right then. If anything, the opposite—because he could tell, from the way Jadon’s shoulders hunched, the way he hugged himself, the way he turned his head slightly so his breath steamed off to the side, that Jadon was feeling vulnerable and exposed and maybe even a little frightened. And Nico wanted to make that better for him.

“Okay, so, you’re a wreck.”

Jadon groaned.

“Get it? Wreck. Reck. Jadon Reck.”

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

Nico shoved him. In a supportive way. “Keep talking, dummy. Don’t make me pry it out of you.”

“Okay, well, I haven’t been handling…life, I guess. Not well, anyway.” He drew in a slow breath, and Nico thought of how Jadon had looked the day before, bags under his eyes, his color bad, the hundred little tells of a man hanging on by his fingertips. “And apparently, there are going to be consequences if I don’t pull it together. Like, I’m going to be found unfit for service.” A white cloud of laughter exploded out of him. “Jesus Christ, I can’t even believe it, hearing it out loud.”

“God, Jay. I’m so sorry.”

With a grimace, Jadon shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. Cerise is probably right; I guess I’ve been letting things…slide.”

Nico thought about how letting things slide didn’t quite explain how Jadon looked hollowed out, run down, worn to the bone.

“You know, John-Henry, Emery’s husband, he’s got all these gay romance novels.”

“Huh?”

“Like My Gay Christmas Prince. And My Gay Christmas Billionaire. And My Billionaire Bear. Oh, and Alphas under the Mistletoe. That one was raunchy.”

Jadon’s eyes narrowed.

“So,” Nico said in what he considered his most helpful tone, “if you’re going to try a fake boyfriend stunt, you should probably borrow some of his books. Because the fake boyfriend thing shows up all the time.”

Another laugh escaped Jadon, and even after it faded, little crinkles remained around his eyes as he studied Nico. “So, I need a fake boyfriend, huh?”

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