Lunch with Miles had been so pleasant, Reyes looked forward to showing him around some more, spending more time in his presence. But Miles dumped a bucket of ice water on that idea when he excused himself back to the cabin for a nap.
Disappointed, Reyes spent necessary time mingling with guests during the last few hours of their stay. He hated this part, but so had Mack when he was head cowboy, and it was part of the job. Getting feedback, encouraging families to leave reviews on their website, and to come back next year.
Even though it was early in the season, they’d had fifteen out of twenty beds filled. The ranch was still benefiting from the notoriety it received from the ghost town fire last fall, and the resulting property scandal. And off-season ranch bookings should see another increase once the ghost town opened. They already had June, July, and part of August completely booked.
Reyes and ranch foreman, Judson Marvel, led the buckboard team down the road to deliver guests to their cars and wave goodbye. On the drive back up, Judson said, “Sure does feel strange not having Mack around the ranch.”
“It does.” Reyes missed seeing his friend every day, but found peace knowing he was a phone call—or quick horse ride—away. “But he’s put everything into the ghost town. This is his dream.”
“I know. The boy’s got a good head on his shoulders and his grandfather’s business acumen. From what I’ve seen, he’ll do well.”
“Plus the added benefit of a day player with actual Hollywood credits to his name?”
“Yeah, Wes is likely to drive in some folks. Took a peek at the website last night. Looks good, lots of photos. Got some of the cast members up, too.”
Reyes nodded along. Mack and Wes were going to start rehearsals with the cast on Monday. Their plan was to tell two different stories each day, one during peak lunch hour so the saloon could be robbed by “bandits,” and later in the afternoon a shootout would happen in Main Street. Mack had also brought in a special effects consultant to train them all on how to use squibs and blanks. He was doing this the right way from the get-go, so an accident didn’t result in an injury and send his insurance through the roof.
Miles would get to start working in his new kitchen on Monday, as well, testing out recipes and planning a period-specific menu. Reyes had seen some of the recipes Avery had dug up, and people sure had eaten odd things back in the day.
Then again, they also didn’t have modern refrigeration and mass food production. Everything was locally grown, built, sewn, or sourced. Anything that traveled long-distance was usually canned, pickled, or fermented. Folks coming together helped keep small towns all over the west alive. Just like the modern town of Garrett was coming together to stay alive via the ghost town. Mack was sourcing produce from local farmers, selling locally-made canned goods in the ghost town’s general store alongside souvenirs. Most of the actors and other staff were locals, too, some volunteers and some paid.
Mack had a vision, and Reyes truly hoped his friend achieved it.
Back at the ranch, Miles was still sleeping soundly on his bed, so Reyes retreated to his office in the big barn to prime himself on tomorrow’s new batch of guests and prepare the accommodations list. Grunt work he used to tease Mack about, and now it was Reyes’s job to complete. Plus, the food delivery for next week would arrive in thirty minutes. Now that Judson was entering the order into the online system, they hadn’t had any issues. Arthur had just turned seventy-nine, and while he could get around as easily as ever, his memory was starting to slip more frequently.
A few months ago, Mack, Reyes, Judson, and their guesthouse den mother, Patrice, had all sat down with Arthur about him majorly scaling back his part in the business. He’d grudgingly agreed, and now was free to spend more time doing what he truly loved: working down at the horse rescue.
Reyes worked until suppertime, then headed for the guesthouse to eat. Miles, he noticed, didn’t show up while Reyes was there, so he headed back to their cabin. Miles was still dead asleep, and Reyes stood by his bed for a moment. He lay curled on his right side, facing the room, arms around his pillow. His face was as easy and worry-free as Reyes had ever seen, and he couldn’t help wondering if Miles was sleeping at night. A five-hour nap was a long time for anyone, but especially a young guy like Miles.
Their age difference was another good reason to keep his crush to himself. Eleven years wasn’t a lot for some people, but it was a lot for others. They were part of completely different generations.
Whatever. Miles wasn’t interested and he needed to eat.
Reyes reached out and shook Miles’s shoulder, only to get a fist in the eye for his effort. “Ouch!” He stumbled backward, one hand cupped over his eye.
Miles sat upright in bed, his surprise melting into horror. “Holy shit, I am so fucking sorry. Oh God, you scared the piss out of me.”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Reyes dropped his hand and blinked, testing his watering eye. It hadn’t been a hard punch, but he sure felt it. “Figured you might want to get up. It’s five thirty.”
“Are you serious? I slept all day?”
“Must have needed the rest.” Reyes sat on his own bed opposite Miles, who looked less panicked now. “I’ve taken way worse punches, don’t worry about it.”
Miles scowled, and Reyes wasn’t sure if Miles thought he’d called him weak with his “worse punches” comment. “I should get up, thank you. I’m so sorry I hit you.”
“It’s okay. No permanent harm done.” He was crazy curious why Miles had lashed out in his sleep like that, but wasn’t sure they were good enough friends yet for Miles to confide in him. Maybe he could ask in a sideways manner. “You have bad dreams?”
“I don’t think I dreamed at all, actually, and that’s pretty amazing. Maybe it’s all the fresh air.”
“Could be. Maybe you just felt safe here. Until I touched you, that is.”
“It wasn’t you, Reyes, I swear. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Who are you afraid of?”
Miles’s frown deepened. “So what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
Reyes took the hint. “Patrice’s weekend specialty. Leftovers pie. She takes all the odds and ends from whatever’s left from the week and makes a kind of meat potpie. You better go grab a bowl before it’s gone.”
“You know, I knew I’d be eating some meals here, but are there rules about us keeping food in our cabins?”
“Not really. Most of us have coffeepots and hot plates, along with the mini fridge. I don’t keep a lot in it because I don’t cook. Mostly water and beer, so buy what you like.”
“Got it.” His lips twitched. “A guy who can’t cook living with a cook. Who says the universe doesn’t have a sense of humor?”
Reyes grinned. “Yeah, she does. Come on, let’s get you supper.”
Miles didn’t comment on Reyes escorting him, but Miles did keep a respectable distance from him as they walked. He liked spending time with Miles, and he wanted them to become friends one day. But friendship required proximity and speaking. “Have you always lived in San Francisco?” Reyes asked.
“I moved there for college when I was eighteen, but I was raised in Fresno. I liked San Francisco enough that I stayed. Maybe longer than I should have.”
“What did you get your degree in?”
“English, actually. My plan was to become a teacher, but I learned how much I loved cooking doing my work-study in the school cafeteria. After I graduated, I got a kitchen job, since I had some skill. The position at the dinner theater came a while after.”
“I see.”
“What about you?” Miles asked with a shy grin. “Why become a firefighter?”
Reyes had forgotten Miles knew that about his past. “Some of it was the TV glamour of the life. More of it was a chance to make a difference and help people, but in a different way than by becoming a cop, like Mack. I enjoyed the work and training and the men in my ladder company.”
“Why did you quit?”
Phantom pain stole through his legs. “Had a bad accident and I got burned. Needed to start over, do something new while I healed.”
“I get that. Starting over.”
“I know you do.”
They both paused by the kitchen steps. Their eyes met, and something unexpected passed between them. They weren’t touching at all, but Reyes still felt a connection to the younger man with the haunted green eyes. A spark crackled in the space they shared. He wasn’t sure if Miles noticed it, and Reyes didn’t understand it.
Uncertain, he took a small step back and deferred to Miles. Miles hesitated a beat before going inside to claim his supper.
* * *
Miles was kind of screwed. Even if Reyes hadn’t felt the chemistry passing between them, Miles did, and that chemistry needed to find the nearest exit. He had too much on his plate with the ghost town and starting over to worry about unwanted feelings. And for his roommate, of all people.
No, not happening. Chemistry can take a hike.
Miles scooped some of the potpie into a bowl, intrigued by all the veggies and bits of beef mixed up in a brown gravy, served over rice. He also grabbed a piece of cornbread, because Patrice made wonderful cornbread. Only a handful of employees were still eating, so he picked an empty corner of the table and sat. Reyes sat across from him with a glass of water and piece of cornbread as casual as he’d been at lunch. No indication their “moment” on the stoop had ever happened, and Miles was incredibly grateful for his discretion.
“You didn’t get enough the first time?” Miles asked.
“Always feels weird to watch someone eat and not have something in front of me,” Reyes replied. “Besides, who can say no to Patrice’s cornbread?”
“Good point.” Miles dug into the food, which was tasty and cooked just right. “Mmm, this is good.”
“I don’t think Patrice knows how to cook a bad meal. Haven’t had one in all the years I’ve worked here.”
“Sounds as if I’ve got some competition on who’s the best local chef.”
“I can’t wait to try your food.”
Miles blushed, unsure if Reyes heard the subtle innuendo in his own words. “I’m definitely intrigued by some of the recipes, especially the pies. It’s amazing what people used to make pie out of when fruit wasn’t available.”
“Like what?”
“Crackers. Seriously, there’s one called Mock Apple Pie that’s crackers, water, sugar, lemon juice, and cinnamon. I haven’t made it yet, but I’m curious what it actually tastes like.”
“Well, didn’t they make apple pie out of green pumpkins in one of the Little House on the Prairie books?”
Reyes ducked his head. “My sister may have dared me to read them when we were kids.”
“You have a sister?” For some reason, Miles had never really considered the fact that Reyes had siblings. Probably because Miles was an only child.
“Two, actually, and a brother. I don’t keep in contact with my family anymore, and it’s for the best.”
“Oh. I don’t talk to my parents, either. Haven’t for years.”
Once again, that odd, unspoken chemistry passed between them. Reyes had his own secrets and hidden pain, and Miles wanted to know more. But didn’t asking also mean telling? If Reyes shared something, wouldn’t he want Miles to do the same? Then again, Wes shared all the time and never demanded Miles talk in return.
No. Reyes’s pain was his own, and Miles didn’t want to share his own secrets with anyone. He could handle his own pain just fine, as he’d done for a year now.
“For what it’s worth,” Reyes said softly, “I’m sorry you don’t speak to them anymore.”
“We barely spoke before, so not much has changed now.” Miles poked at a piece of cooked carrot. “My parents are both very busy, highly sought after professionals in their fields, so I was basically raised by a nanny until I was twelve and deemed old enough to be left on my own.”
“Damn, that’s cold. My parents worked their asses off for what little they had, but they always had time for us kids.”
“It’s funny, because when I first met Wes, he was so cheerful all the time, always talking about his parents and sister, and I really wanted to hate him. But it’s impossible to hate Wes once you get to know him.”
“This is true.”
“Anyway, I started acting out in school, skipping class and being disruptive, anything to get their attention. But they’d sign whatever slip they needed to sign, or make whatever school board call they needed to make. Donate money to whatever function or cause. I grew up feeling like an inconvenience, and after a while I quit trying to get their attention. I learned the only person I could really depend on was myself. Got my act together, studied, and got great scholarships to UCSF. I haven’t been home to see my parents in years, and they only call on Christmas and my birthday.”
Miles looked up from his bowl, not expecting to have opened a vein to Reyes over dinner, to find the older man watching him with focused grief. As if he was taking Miles’s lonely upbringing personally.
“It’s funny how much alike we are,” Miles said. Reyes was picking at his cornbread with strong, work-calloused hands. Hands that probably knew how to touch without hurting, squeeze without bruising. Hands that would feel so good stroking certain things.
Focus.
“Um, other than the cooking thing,” Miles added, annoyed with his brain for going there. He could excuse admiring the guy’s ass, but his hands? Miles’s body didn’t seem to get the memo he was here to work, not jumpstart his libido.
Reyes smiled. “It is a bit funny. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to teach me how to cook. And I’m talking basic scrambled eggs and toast.”
“You can’t even make eggs?” Miles feigned horror.
“Nope. Tried once. Scorched them. Didn’t try again.”
“I don’t know, you might be beyond help at this point. Forty is a bit old to start learning to cook for yourself.”
“Brat.” Reyes took a gentle, open-palm swipe at his hand that still made Miles flinch. “I’m thirty-five. Thirty-six in a few weeks.”
“My birthday is in a few weeks, too. April nineteenth.”
Reyes blinked. “Mine is April twentieth.”
“Huh. Our star signs are off by one day.”
“And not generally compatible.”
Miles was a little surprised Reyes knew so much about astrology. “Which isn’t an issue, since we’re just roommates.”
“Of course,” Reyes replied.
The air seemed to crackle between them again, and Miles didn’t know what to make of it, so he focused on finishing his supper and not staring at Reyes’s hands. By the time they were done, the kitchen was empty.
“So what do you guys do for fun on Saturday nights?” Miles asked as he put his plates in the industrial dishwasher.
“When the weather is colder, we sometimes have poker tournaments. When it warms up, some of us will project a movie onto the side of the guesthouse and have a picnic. But since Saturday is everyone’s night off, a lot of the guys drive into San Jose or San Francisco to blow off steam.”
“Makes sense. You don’t strike me as the type to go out often.”
“I’m not. Colt invited me out tonight, but I wasn’t feeling it.”
Miles’s phone pinged with a text. He chuckled when he saw the name. “Wes is inviting us over tonight for a movie and drinks.”
Reyes raised an eyebrow. “He invited us both through you?”
“Yeah. Efficient, I guess. You want to go? I slept the day away, so I won’t be going to bed anytime soon.”
“I suppose. Would you like to drive or ride?”
Miles wasn’t sure about close proximity in his car. They’d be cramped enough later tonight when they went to sleep. “Will the horses be okay outside for a few hours?”
“It will be a mild night. They’ll be fine.”
Miles grinned and hoped he hid his relief. “Then let’s ride.”
And they did, saddling up both Hot Coffee and Tango, and then riding them across the countryside to Mack and Wes’s cabin like it was the most natural thing in the world. Miles truly did miss riding, and he hoped to do it more often now that he was living at the ranch. They rode in silence, much like this morning, and even with the sun setting and only a flashlight to go by, Reyes got them to the cabin easily.
Mack and Wes were sitting on the porch with drinks in their hands, and they rose to greet their friends. Wes handed Miles a glass of wine, while Reyes accepted a beer, and they all went inside to discuss a film. The entire thing felt so natural that Miles could have been doing this with these friends for years.
Wes found a recent thriller they all agreed on, then curled up on the love seat with Mack. Reyes and Miles took opposite ends of the sofa, because no matter what Wes might be hoping, this was a night with friends, not a date. Plus, he’d be sharing even closer quarters with Reyes later tonight, and Miles was still a little nervous about that. He hadn’t slept without a locked bedroom door between himself and the world in years.
Halfway through, Miles popped down the hall for a bathroom break, and when he returned Wes had paused the movie to pop two bowls of popcorn. Sharing with Reyes meant sitting on the cushion next to him. No big deal, really.
Their fingers occasionally brushed in the popcorn bowl, and Miles ignored the little thrills. Eventually, he gave up eating and kept his hands to himself, because the rest of his body was getting way too interested in Reyes’s hands. It had been over a year since Miles had had good sex, and his libido finally seemed on board with breaking that dry spell.
Until his memory flashed to the day after his birthday last year, waking up in Dallas’s bed aching all over. Scared and confused.
That got his libido to calm the fuck down, and he lost track of the movie while he focused on pushing those memories away. Not just of that morning, and the parts of the night he couldn’t remember, but of Dallas’s behavior on Wednesday night. At some point, the movie ended, and he was alone in the living room with Wes, who was watching him from the love seat with open concern.
“Where did Mack and Reyes go?” Miles asked.
“Out on the porch to chat,” Wes replied. “I needed to talk to you.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“You is what’s up. Did you even see the end of the movie?”
“Of course I did.”
“So who was the killer?”
Miles crossed his arms defensively.
“Thought so.” Wes strode across the room to sit next to Miles. “Please don’t lie and tell me nothing’s wrong. I know you better than that.” He glanced at the front door. “Is everything okay with Reyes?”
“Of course. He’s been nothing but polite and friendly. We even went riding this morning before lunch.”
“Then it’s Dallas again, isn’t it?”
Miles groaned and dropped his forehead into his palm. “Wes, come on.”
“It is Dallas. What did that asshole do this time?”
“You are a giant pain in my ass, you know that?”
“I love you, too, now spill. Please? I’m worried about you. You changed your phone number because of him.”
“I changed my phone number as part of starting fresh here and leaving my old life behind.”
Wes quirked an eyebrow. “An old life that included Dallas?”
“Fucking fine, yes.” If Wes was going to insist on inserting himself into Miles’s personal problems, he’d give Wes enough to get him to back off a little. Miles was used to handling his own damned issues, and he’d handled this one just fine by leaving town. “Dallas showed up at the apartment after work on Wednesday.”
“He what?” Wes’s face went scarlet. “Did he follow you or something?”
“I don’t know how he found me. He wanted to come in and talk, and I refused. Angry words were exchanged, and he finally left. But the whole thing left me unsettled and upset, and I’m having a hard time shaking it.”
Wes studied him hard, probably looking for the lie, but Miles hadn’t lied. He’d only left out a few crucial details about the encounter. “Now I feel like a shitty friend,” Wes said.
“What?” That was not the reaction he’d expected from Wes, and yet he wasn’t altogether surprised, either. Wes was always the star of the show. “You aren’t a shitty friend.”
“Dallas approached you days ago, and you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about it.” Wes looked genuinely upset now. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Miles reached out to squeeze Wes’s wrist. “This isn’t about you. I’m the one who chose to keep it a secret and deal with it alone. You know I trust you, but this has nothing to do with you, Wes. I just don’t like talking about my shit.”
Wes twisted his wrist so they were holding hands. “I wish you did. Talking about stuff does actually help, you know, even if it’s painful or scary. Let your friends help you.”
Shame swamped Miles’s gut. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt Wes’s feelings by keeping things to himself, but that was Miles’s default mode. He internalized, because he wasn’t used to having someone on his side who actually gave a damn about his feelings. His parents hadn’t cared, his druggie friends hadn’t cared. Dallas hadn’t really cared, because their relationship had always been about Dallas and what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Miles didn’t want to keep hurting Wes’s feelings, but his life wasn’t an open book like Wes’s. He didn’t know how to open up to people, not even his best friend. And even if he did know how, he flat-out wasn’t ready. Not today, maybe not for a while. “Look,” Miles said. “I’m glad you’re my friend and that you’ll be here to listen if and when I decide to share stuff, but I don’t like being guilt-tripped into talking when I’m not ready.”
“Shit.” Wes’s eyes popped wide. “I totally did not mean to guilt-trip you, I swear.”
“I believe you, so I need you to believe me when I say I’m okay. Being here, even for one day, has really helped. I left the fast-paced city behind for a country boy life, and I couldn’t be happier about that choice.”
“Because Dallas can’t find you?”
He squeezed Wes’s hand. “Because I get a fresh start. And my own kitchen. I can’t wait to get in there on Monday and start cooking. Mack gave me a pretty generous food budget for testing recipes, so I’ll be able to put a shopping list together and hit the local grocery store. And since these are fairly simple recipes, I should be able to get everything Monday. Mack said the one ingredient I may need to have special ordered is buffalo meat.”
“Buffalo?”
“It was a fairly common meat back in the day, so I want to put a buffalo burger on the menu. Maybe even add steaks as the ghost town grows its business and my budget increases.”
“You’ve got all kinds of plans, huh?”
“I really do.” Miles released Wes’s hand. “I didn’t grow up expecting to be a cook, never mind run my own kitchen, but this is where I am, and I’m excited to be here. Mack’s putting a lot of trust in me based on your word, so thank you.”
“No problem. I’m excited to try your menu.”
“I’ll do a tasting later this week, so everyone can try the dishes and give comments. If something isn’t quite perfect, I’ll need time to tweak it before opening day.” Miles was already crazy nervous to have Mack and the others test his dishes, but he needed feedback before he started serving the public.
“I have no doubt everything will be perfect by opening day.”
“I hope so. I’m also going to serve some of Mary-Ellen Hurley’s applesauce as a side dish and her pickles as garnishes, so we can do some cross-promotion between the saloon and the general store.”
Wes’s hand flew to his cheek. “Where have you been hiding your brilliance all this time?”
“Shut up. Mack and Avery have both been super helpful with ideas like that. It’s a group effort.”
“Good God, you really suck at accepting compliments.”
Miles shrugged. “Personality flaw. Sorry.”
“Now that you’re living here, my new plan for you is to make you less modest.”
“Good luck with that.” He cracked a huge yawn, which surprised him after his five-hour afternoon nap. “I think I’m ready to head back. I still have to brush down Tango.”
“Cool. Thanks for coming over. It was like old times, except with twice as many people.”
“Not a problem. It was fun.” Miles drained the last of his wine, then put the glass in the kitchen sink.
Wes walked with him out to the porch, where Mack and Reyes were chilling on the steps with their beers. “Ready to head home?” Reyes asked.
“Yeah,” Miles replied. “You mind?”
“Nah, gotta be up early for work. New crop of guests and all.”
“Of course.” Miles gave Wes a quick hug, then shook Mack’s hand. “Thanks for a fun night.”
“Any time,” Mack replied. “See you for sure on Monday.”
“Absolutely.”
Reyes used his flashlight to guide them through the woods, Miles careful to keep Tango behind Hot Coffee so they didn’t stumble in the dark. He studied the back of Reyes’s head, curious what the older man was thinking about. Reyes struck Miles as the quiet, stoic type, but the old saying “still waters run deep” was often true, especially with people. But he was enjoying the silence and solitude too much to initiate conversation. God knew things would probably get awkward once they were alone in the cabin.
They put the horses up with very little conversation, and that same silence followed them back to the cabin, where Reyes deferred first use of the bathroom to Miles. Miles washed his face and brushed his teeth, feeling a bit like he was in a hotel, because of the unfamiliar surroundings. It would become familiar soon; today was his first day, after all.
He settled in his new bed with his tablet, a little unnerved by the silence now. Did he initiate conversation? Keep to himself? The questions plagued him while Reyes prepared for bed. Miles scrunched a bit deeper under his blanket, despite it being kind of hot, because it was really his only barrier between himself and his roommate. Not knowing what else to do, he opened a book on his tablet and tried to read.
Reyes emerged from the bathroom in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a sleeveless tank top that showed off his beautifully muscled biceps. Miles also spotted tattoos, both easy to see and partially hidden by his shirt, and he couldn’t help wondering how many others Reyes had and where?
Miles tore his gaze away before he got caught staring. Maybe he didn’t want a boyfriend, but he had eyes and could appreciate the package.
In a way, the whole thing reminded him of his first night on campus freshman year of college. A roommate he didn’t know, routines he didn’t know, and a slight awkwardness about what happened at bedtime. But here, each bed had a small lamp attached to the headboard to provide reading light. Miles’s tablet was backlit, but Reyes startled him by picking up a hardcover book.
“Does Garrett have a library?” Miles asked, surprising himself with the out-of-the-blue question, when they’d barely spoken ten words in the last half hour.
Reyes sat on his bed facing Miles. “No, nearest library is five miles away in Daggett. Why?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose I was curious how you get new physical books to read.”
“Ah. Arthur’s always been a big book person, so he’s got a personal library in the main house that staff is free to borrow from. They’ve even all got cards in the back we sign that we’ve read them, so once a bunch of books have gone the rounds, Arthur donates them and picks up a new batch at a swap meet or thrift store.”
“That’s...really awesome.”
“It is.” Reyes smiled. “Arthur’s a great boss, and he treats his staff really well. Library is for you, too, if you ever need a new read.”
Miles waved his tablet. “I currently have five thousand books in queue to read, but thank you. I can’t turn down a cheap sale or a freebie.”
“Do you have a favorite genre?”
“Um, fiction.”
Reyes tilted his head. “Any particular fiction genre? I’m fond of mysteries and thrillers.”
What the hell? Be honest, he probably won’t judge.
“I’m a fan of romance novels.” Miles’s face heated. “I like knowing I’ll get a happy ending. The world sucks too much for unexpected tragedies.”
“Makes sense. I can’t say if Arthur has any in his library, but I’m always willing to try new things if I stumble across one.”
“Really?”
“Why not?”
Miles shrugged. “I guess I’m used to people making fun of me when I say I read romance, instead of offering to read one.”
“I say as long as someone’s entertainment choices don’t oppress, demean, or diminish other people, let folks enjoy themselves.”
“Same. Cool. Do you have a tablet or e-reader? I can recommend some books.”
“I do. Don’t use it much, because it’s so old I have to basically keep it plugged in so it takes a charge.”
“Got it. Anyway, thanks for answering my question. About the library.”
“Happy to.” Reyes settled in with his book and started reading.
Miles did the same, grateful for the information, and pleased by Reyes’s continued easygoing nature and calm acceptance. Except his eyes drooped quickly, despite his long afternoon nap, and he shut the tablet down. Turned off his own bed light. Reyes’s didn’t cast much of a glow to his side, but Miles still rolled to his left, away from it. But he didn’t like giving Reyes his back, so he turned to face him, and that felt weird.
He finally settled flat on his back, blanket tucked up to his chin, even though the cabin was kind of warm. He needed that barrier. And Reyes hadn’t moved once except to turn a page in his book, which made Miles feel less awkward about all his squirming around. He and Reyes were slowly building trust, becoming friends, and Miles didn’t make new friends easily, so he’d do everything he could to nurture it.
Maybe living together wouldn’t be so bad after all—if he could just ignore his unwanted attraction to his roommate.