Page 88 of Map of Pain
“Yeah,”Caleb agreed, and Nick could hear the pride in his voice at the caught apology.“And nothing to be ashamed of.”
Nick nodded, still shaky but somehow more solid than he’d been in days. Like crying washed away some invisible weighthe .
“Thank you,”he said.“For keeping all this. For keeping me.”
“Always,”Caleb replied without hesitation.“No matter what happens, no matter where you go—you’re my brother, and that’s never going to change.”
Nick absorbed those words, letting them sink in and take root in the parts of him that had been hollowed out over the years. Familywasn’tjust about blood or shared history—itwasabout choosing each other again and again, even when that choicewashard.
And sitting there surrounded by photos and memories and unconditional love, Nick felt like he was ready to choose.
***
The apartment felt like a furnace. Even with both window air conditioning units rattling at full blast, they only managed to push around the same stale, humid air. Nick shifted under the kitchen table, trying to find a position that didn’t involve his shoulder blades sticking to the cheap linoleum through his t-shirt.
He’ddragged two couch pillows and a throw blanket under the table with him an hour ago, still seeking the familiar comfort of a small, enclosed space. But now, cramped between table legs with sweat gathering at his hairline, he felt nothing but annoyance.
This is ridiculous.
The voice in his headwasn’tthe hunter or the broken part—itwasjust him. Just Nick, frustrated with himself for still needing to curl up like a frightened animal when hewasperfectly safe. Calebwaswith Marcus at the penthouse. The apartment was secure. Lukawasin the next room, probably melting in the heat, but never complaining about anything.
He didn’t want to do this anymore.
The decision felt sudden but certain. Nick crawled out from under the table, his back protesting the cramped position. His t-shirtwasdamp with sweat, pajama pants sticking to his legs. Through the open door, he could see the soft glow of Luka’s phone screen.
Nick stood in the doorway for a moment, watching. Luka sat propped against the headboard, long legs stretched out over the covers, scrolling through something on his phone. Even in the oppressive heat, he looked composed, though Nick noticed the way his hairwasmussed, a few strands sticking to his forehead.
“Luka?”
Jade eyes found his, the phone lowering. Luka’s expression shifted to gentle attention, eyebrows raising slightly in question.
Nick felt heat climb his neck thathadnothing to do with the temperature.“I, um.”He cleared his throat, voice coming out rougher than intended.“I want to sleep like a normal person tonight. In the bed. If that’s... if that’s okay.”
Luka’s face brightened. He started to slide off the mattress, clearly assuming Nick wanted the bed to himself. His movementswerecareful, respectful—giving Nick space without question.
“It’s just...”Nick shifted his weight, aware of how his clothesweresticking to his skin.“It’s really hot in here. Iwasthinking I could just sleep in my boxers? If that’s okay with you?”
Luka nodded, then made a thumbs-up gesture, his expression accepting. No judgment, no questions about why Nick needed permission for something so simple.
Nick took a shaky breath. Thiswasthe hard part.“Could you... could you close your eyes? While I...”He gestured at his clothes.
Understanding flickered across Luka’s features, followed by something that looked like honor—as if being asked to respect this boundarywasa privilege rather than an inconvenience. He set his phone aside and covered his eyes with both hands, then made an exaggerated show of turning his head toward the wall.
Despite everything, Nick felt his mouth twitch toward a smile.“Thank you.”
He reached for the hem of his t-shirt with trembling fingers. The one-handed struggle to pull it over his head felt clumsy, awkward—and halfway through, as the fabric caught briefly around his shoulders, a sob caught in his throat.
Don’t. Just do it.
The cotton finally peeled away from his damp skin, but the reliefwasswallowedby the crushing weight of exposure. Nick’s breath hitched as he looked down at himself—really looked at what Lukawasgoing to see.
The carved words stood out pale against his skin.Good boyacross his right pectoral.Kitten scripted down his sternum. The deliberate patterns of cigarette burns. The brand on his collarbone like a signature claiming ownership.
Another sob escaped before he could stop it, and Nick pressed his hand against his mouth, shoulders shaking. His pajama pants pooled around his ankles as he stepped out of them, leaving him in just his boxers, but all he could think about how terrible it all looked.
Lukawasgoing to see everything. All of it. Every word thathadbeen carved into him, every mark that proved how completelyhe’dbeen broken down and rebuilt as someone else’s possession.
But I’m choosing this,he reminded himself, even as tears tracked down his cheeks.I’m choosing to trust him.
