“I can do that.” Nate knew he could be an anchor; be Miguel’s anchor. Convincing Miguel to trust him enough to try might be a different story. Miguel had a funny expression on his face, like Buck had just explained the secret of the universe, and it was much simpler than he’d thought. So simple, in fact, Nate couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it himself.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

 

Nate would have liked to make a triumphant exit with Miguel in tow. The unfortunate truth was, neither one of them could drive, so they had to wait for Kevin. The kid drove them at breakneck speeds through Skagit to Nate’s house. He pulled to the curb with a jerk, nearly sending Nate into the front seat.

“Jesus, Kevin, neither of us want to go back to the hospital,” Miguel complained. He’d remained quiet since Buck’s little speech and Nate’s declaration, but he hadn’t protested when Nate asked Kevin to drive them to his house. Quiet Miguel was unnerving. Nate hoped Miguel was thinking about the future, not the past.

The GTI rumbled off back in the direction they’d come. Miguel stared after the car, watching it disappear around the corner. “He’s totally going to take the long way. I bet he does a hundred on Old Farm House Road. That’s what I would do.” He shrugged apologetically. “I like fast cars.”

Nate looked at him. “I think you like a lot of things fast.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Miguel was still looking in the direction Kevin had gone.

“Let’s go inside. The neighbors are probably gawking.”

“Who says ‘gawking’ anymore?” Miguel groused, but didn’t protest when Nate unlocked his front door and gently pushed him inside.

 

His house was cool compared to the summer day. The big tree in the backyard kept most of the sun off the roof, allowing the indoors to maintain an even temperature.

“Hungry?” Nate asked, stepping around Miguel, leading the way into his kitchen.

“You have food?” Miguel was appropriately amazed. “I’m hungry, but I looked the last time I was here, and you had two sad cans of soup and some bottled water.”

“My partner took me to the grocery store. There’s stuff now. In the fridge too.”

Miguel looked at him slyly. “You ask me if I’m hungry and tell me there’s ‘stuff’ in the fridge… you don’t cook at all, do you?” He laughed; the sound was merry, and Nate loved how it reverberated in the confines of his tiny kitchen.

“No.” He shook his head sheepishly. “After my mom died, my grandmother came to live with us, and she cooked. Didn’t believe in men in the kitchen. I didn’t like her, so it worked out.”

Another indefinable expression crossed Miguel’s face. Nate wondered if he was aware how much emotion he displayed or if it was something only Nate saw. He couldn’t help stepping closer, running his hand down the side of Miguel’s face.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah.” Miguel watched Nate carefully, not stepping away or stopping him. Nate liked that they were the same height.

“I know you said you could eat something, and I kind of have food, but… how do you feel about a nap first?” Nate had been nervous to the point of sweaty palms when Natalia dropped him off at Swanfeldt’s. She’d stopped by the house to check in (make sure he still had real food) and let him know that they’d finally located a frightened, hungry, tattered collection of souls waiting further instructions from Rosales. They’d been expecting him for over a month. Most had lost their life savings to the trafficker… but they were alive.

When Nate had spotted Miguel through the office doorway, slowly spinning around in the office chair while he talked to Buck, his nerves had fled. All he’d wanted in that moment was to get his hands on him—feel his skin again, smell him, make sure he was really alive and in one piece.

After his last conversation with Mel, Nate had decided he wasn’t going to dwell on the things she’d told him. None of that was relevant to the life he’d created for himself. And he wasn’t going to feel guilty about his choice. He was done with people trying to force him to assume guilt that wasn’t his own, shoehorn him into a life that didn’t fit what he envisioned for himself. After that, Nate had only been able to think about Miguel, to plan how he was going to convince him that Nate was the man for him. The person for him.

“Unless you want to talk first?”

Miguel made a face. “A nap sounds good.”

They lay on Nate’s bed, Nate’s hatred for the cast on his right arm reaching new levels when he realized that any sort of cuddling was going to be nearly impossible. He huffed and tried to quell his growing irritation.

“You are fussy. And grumpy.” Miguel skootched closer. “Lay on your back. I’ll lie on my right side next to you. That way you can put your arm around me.”

They flopped around until they were both in the correct position. Miguel lay his left arm across Nate’s chest, its weight both comforting and frightening because Nate was reminded how close they had come to never having this moment.

As far as Nate knew, they were both asleep in minutes. He only remembered shutting his eyes. Waking up with Miguel in his arms was something he had dreamed of over the past couple of weeks. The reality—even if it was only one arm—was even better, Miguel’s warmth solid and real. They’d only woken up together twice before, and Nate, however foolishly, wanted it never to stop. This was perfect.

Nate had been lying there for a few minutes, watching the ceiling fan turn in lazy circles, when he felt Miguel stir against him. He tried to roll away, but Nate squeezed him more firmly against his side and kissed the top of his head.

He’d never kissed anyone on the top of the head before. Miguel’s curly hair was soft against his lips and tickled his nose, the slight sweat from sleeping in the late afternoon a welcome scent. A bouquet of texture, taste and smell—one Nate wanted over and over again.

“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Miguel muttered.

“Maybe.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“I’ve already said it all. I meant it before, and I still mean it.” He might as well put it all out there again. Maybe if he started now and said it enough times, Miguel would begin to believe Nate was for real.

“And people call me reckless.” Miguel spoke into Nate’s chest, not looking at him. “I bring a stalker to town who nearly brains you with a shovel, and the first thing you do when you see me again is take me home and invite me into your bed.”

“It’s where I want you. Well, not all the time. In this house for certain, though. I guess I am a little reckless, but I’ve always trusted myself. When something feels right to me, it’s right. I don’t fight it. I had the same feeling when I decided to accept the FBI’s recruitment offer. I knew it was right, that I was right for the job.

“The first time we were together, I knew it was right. I think I knew before that, but I knew for sure after that night.”

“So…” Miguel peeked up at Nate through his lashes, “you’re just planning on keeping me?”

“Well, not like Justin tried to do. Not keeping keeping. But I can be that anchor Buck was talking about. I want to be that person. I’m hoping,” he felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to find the right words, “that you’ll let me.”

Miguel struggled onto his elbow. “That I’ll let you? I don’t get it—what can you possibly see in me? I mean, yeah, the sex is good.”

Good god, this man was frustrating. “It’s not about the sex,” Nate ground out. “It’s about everything.” Stupid words. “Look, I know you don’t see it the way I do. That’s because you don’t have the right perspective.”

“You mean the ‘Nate’ perspective?”

“Exactly. The way I see it, it’s a gift that you might want to be with me. At least you’re not running away screaming. I’m a boring, plain guy. Yeah, I’m smart enough and good at my job, but I’m boring. When I’m with you, I don’t feel boring. I feel a mile high, I feel like a galaxy of stars or something. When you fly, I get to fly with you. You give me wings.”

“Huh. That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I’m pretty sure that between us we can handle it. I’ll anchor, you fly.”