Page 51 of Demon Hunter

What a depressing thought. “We can’t afford to let anything slide, so why don’t you see what Ian can find out?” I suggest. “Dyl and I will be there tomorrow night, too, and we can talk about it then. If anything he finds seems to warrant it, we’ll bump them up the priority list.” I casually let my arm slide from Dylan’s shoulders under the guise of turning to look at him more fully. “I can always help with that—maybe not searching government records, but some of those genealogy and family tree sites have dead people information. I can at least try to find where they were up to the last generation.”

Dylan smiles, a lot more awake now that he’s gotten through his coffee. “That’s a great idea. Norval, how do you feel about this plan?”

Uncle’s still frowning, but he nods. “It’s a start. I’ll go talk to Ian now. Do you want company on the drive tomorrow?”

Eight hours trapped in a car with him? “No, that’s fine,” I say hastily. “You’ve got a lot to do, and I’ll bet you haven’t had any time off lately. Why don’t you check in with Ian and then spend tomorrow at Mannix with your friends? Once we’re back in San Diego, we can meet up to talk strategy.”

He makes a hmm sound. “I am a few episodes behind onMAFS,” he concedes. “And I haven’t checked on Connor and Gabe for a while. They miss me when I’m gone too long.”

“I know,” I say, deadpan. “They’re so grateful for your guidance with the new compound.”

Nodding, he pats me on the shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Matthias, even if sometimes you’re an idiot. Drive carefully.” He’s gone before I can protest.

“I amnotan idiot,” I tell the empty space where he was standing, just because I want the last word.

Dylan snorts and takes my mug, going to put it and his into the sink. “Mostly you’re not, but I want to point out that it’s been ten whole minutes and you haven’t kissed me good morning yet.” He strolls back over and slides his arms around my waist. “Wanna fix that?”

I can’t resist him, so I lean in and meet his lips with mine, putting my hands on his arms where I can’t accidentally crush his lungs if I squeeze. But what I intended to be a quick, gentle peck rapidly gets heated, and my arms slide around him, pulling him closer. I can never be close enough… I’d liveinsidehim if I coul?—

Yanking back, I exercise every ounce of willpower I have and take a step away. No. I can’t risk it—can’t risk him. I don’t want to accidentally hurt him in the heat of the moment.

He stares at me, eyes dazed with lust and confusion, and I mumble, “Gotta take a piss,” before hightailing it out of the room.

This is a disaster.

Chapter 22

Dylan

Something’s goingon with Matt, and he won’t talk to me about it. To be fair, I haven’t asked outright, “Why are you being weird and suddenly don’t want to touch me?” but Ihaveasked him if he’s okay. Multiple times. He always says he’s fine, but it’s a lie.

He’s jumpy. Nervy. At first I thought it might be part of his PTSD—it really hasn’t been that long, and it’s not like he’s getting therapy—but he’s also being distant.

That’s the part that scares me the most. Matt’s a hugger. He’s affectionate. All four brother-besties are—physical boundaries are for strangers. When they love people, they touch them. It’s one of those things that fed my soul when we first hooked up—I hadn’t realized how much I missed the casual touches and hugs of a loved one.

But this past week… barely anything. Ever since the disaster when we “broke in” the couch on Monday, it’s like he’s allergic to me. The other night when I went to bed, I snuggled up against him, and he woke up with a start and claimed to be “too hot” for cuddles. What the ever-loving fuck? When my air conditioning stopped working in ninety-five-degree heat last summer, he wasstill down to fuck, but he’s too hot to be close to me in bed in December?

That’s suspicious as hell. Plus, he suggested we drive down in separate cars. What the fuck for? If I need to go back home—which I will, eventually—I can fly, and if for some reason we both need cars at the same time on the same day, well, the compound has literally hundreds of people living in it. I’m sure someone can lend me one. Not that I’m planning on going off somewhere alone—why would I?

It might still be his PTSD, though. It has to be. When we get to San Diego, I’ll find a way to suggest he talk to one of the Collective’s counselors. Or Ian will suggest it, because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Matt will talk to Ian about whatever’s bothering him. That’s good. Ian can tell him that he needs to talk to someone about the trauma, and a counselor will help him.

It’s PTSD. It has to be. Because the only other option I can think of for him pulling away is that he’s… pulling away.

I made the mistake of doing some research last night. In cases like these, when one partner is avoiding the other without an obvious reason, like a fight, it usually means they’re either cheating or planning to end the relationship.

Matt’s not a cheater. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that. Even if he was, there’s barely a window of time when hecouldbe cheating—about four hours in the morning between when he gets up and I do. The math doesn’t math.

Which means he wants to leave me. End us. His near-death experience has caused him to reassess his life and priorities, and I’m not one of them.

I think I’m going to be sick.

“I don’t want to be a hater, but could we maybe listen to something else for a little while?” I ask. We’re on hour five of Taylor Swift, and I need a break from relationship songs.

Matty laughs, and for a second I have the old him back. “I didn’t think you’d last this long,” he admits, handing over his phone so I can pick a different playlist. “I know you’re not a hater—you’re just not a Swiftie.”

“Not really.” I switch to his “Thinky Thoughts” playlist, which is mostly mellow songs that make great background music. “I mean, I like a lot of her songs, but not like you do.”

Matt is definitely a Swiftie. I’ve heard him say “Tay-Tay forever,” and he legitimately told the Collective’s dispatcher that he wasn’t available to go on an assignment a few years back because “Taylor tickets go on sale tomorrow.” I’ve got no doubt he’s going to do that again soon, since her upcoming tour dates were recently announced.

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