Page 79 of Covenant

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s well-paid. You can finally leave this place behind, and provide for Jackson at the same time.”

There’s a pause before he laughs. “Fuck, you really do know everything about me.”

I smile sadly. Better than he’ll ever know. “Best friend, remember?”

His chin leans on my shoulder and I swear, my heart almost stops. “You’ll always be that, Matt.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Promise?”

“’Course. Who else would put up with my grumpy ass?”

“Think I’m the grumpy one out of the two of us. You’re far more of a brat.”

He pinches my side, and I squirm. “You take that back. I’m not a fucking brat.”

He is, but that’s okay. I like him a bit bratty.

I like him just the way he is, even if he’ll never see me the same way.

“Hey, the storm’s stopped,” he says suddenly, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go see the damage.”

He scrambles out of the shelter, but I follow slower, taking a second more in the darkness to gather every emotion about him that’s slipped free.

When I step back into the daylight, there’s no longing in the smile I give my friend. No wistfulness. Very little affection.

Just the mask I wear around him now, with everything else hidden away.

As it needs to be if I want to keep Wy in my life.

19

WYATT

The cave isn’t much, but it’s dry. Now that I’m not terrified of being split in two by a lightning bolt, I unwind slightly. My shoulders droop and my hand unclenches.

“Fuck, that was close,” I exhale shakily. “Glad you saw this place. Can’t say I was paying much attention.”

Matthias grunts, but he’s concentrating on the floor. He’s moving sticks and kicking sand. “What are you doing?”

“Clearing you a space.” He straightens and nods in satisfaction at the small area he’s created. “Here. Sit down.”

I do as he says, staring at him warily. “Why did you do that?”

He drops down beside me with a shrug. “You like to sit down in storms.”

My mind flashes back to that penultimate summer between us. The one with storms that sent us down to that old shelter every other week. Fitting, given what followed. “You remember that?”

His eyes flick up to meet mine. “I remember everything.”

I go to push him on that, to ask him what he believes happened—for his version of that night. But a crack sounds, far too close, and instead, I shuffle into his side. “Shit. I hate this.”

“I’m here.” He hesitates before sliding an arm around my shoulders. I draw closer gratefully, letting him hold me. “Maybe we should talk. That always used to help.”

The words are on my tongue.Just ask him.But I can’t. They aren’t coming.

“Why don’t you tell me about Jackson?”

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