Page 64 of Follows with Intent

“I mean, they weren’t that bad,” Jadon tried.

“Bullshit,” North said over him. “Look, Jadon’s pretty—”

“Thank you,” Shaw said. “Finally.”

With a glower, North continued, “—but he’s got no substance, no fire. He’s like one of those American Girl dolls you beheaded.”

Some of the carnitas got stuck in Jadon’s throat.

“He probably said a four-letter word and immediately felt guilty and then apologized with, I don’t know, an Elizabethan sonnet.”

“Cunt,” Shaw proclaimed.

Jadon choked again.

“That was probably the word,” Shaw said.

“Well?” North asked, staring down at him with a mixture of disgust and pity. “What’s your hangup?”

“I don’t have a hangup,” Jadon said.

North snorted.

“I don’t! I lost my temper, and I said things I shouldn’t have, and now he hates me.” Memory ignited again, and he groaned. “Jesus, I called him their little rent boy.”

With a laugh, North dropped back into his seat. Shaw grinned and, when he noticed Jadon looking at him, tried to hide the smile.

“What?” Jadon asked.

“You’ve got it bad,” North said.

“No, I don’t.”

Shaw nodded. He was trying to look grave, but that smile kept poking out.

“I don’t,” Jadon said. “And even if I did, it doesn’t matter anymore, because I blew it.”

“Jay,” North said, his voice surprisingly kind, “bud, it’s okay. You’re a pathetic loser who’s as bad at dating as he is at solving cases, and you’re an ugly little toadfucker to boot. It’s not your fault.”

Jadon opened his mouth to volley something back, and instead, laughter came out. He tried to stop it, but it kept coming. North laughed too, a quiet rumble, and Shaw giggled into a pillow. The laughter rolled through Jadon like something had broken inside him. He reached for the water, hoping that taking a sip would help him calm down, but a fresh wave of laughter made him fall back on the couch, wiping his eyes.

When he finally calmed down, he felt better. Not good. But some of the tension that had been winding his body like a clock for the last couple of years had eased. His body felt looser, relaxed. His headache, which he hadn’t noticed until now, had faded.

“I think I’m in love with him,” he said. And he hadn’t realized it until the words were out of his mouth. “Or I’m falling in love with him. Or something.”

Shaw made a noise like that was the most adorable thing he’d ever heard.

“It’s not cute,” Jadon said. “It’s a disaster. I don’t know what to do. I’ve screwed everything up.”

North heaved himself out of his seat. “I’m going to try Emery again, since the miserable fuck couldn’t be bothered to answer last time.” He hesitated, as though considering something, and said, “You’re a good man, Jay.” Then he scrubbed a hand through Jadon’s hair—nearly wrenching his head off his neck and messing up Jadon’s careful styling in the process—and added, “Don’t fuck this up.”

Then he stepped into the kitchen. Shaw looked at Jadon with a familiar curiosity—intense, yes, but also bewilderingly innocent and open. After a moment, Jadon had trouble meeting his eyes.

“Want to talk about it?”

Jadon laughed. He found the beer again and drank. “We were always good at that, weren’t we? Talking, I mean.”

Shaw smiled, but he didn’t answer.

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