He stares back at the cat, still processing the revelation that this is one living space that Lance will share with Robbie with no possibility of privacy. It’s somewhere between a twisted dream come true for his younger self and a nightmare for his present-day self. He rakes a trembling hand through his hair, then slowly goes about taking off Robbie’s coat.

Robbie, seemingly oblivious to Lance’s internal crisis, has slipped out of his boots and put his hands back in his pockets, watching Lance with a small, uncertain smile. “I know it’s not exactly cozy.”

It’s way too fucking cozy! Lance’s panicked internal voice snaps.

But, of course, he doesn’t say this or anything else. He just offers a quick smile, turning away under the pretense of looking for somewhere to hang up the coat before Robbie can notice how his hands are shaking.

Chapter Six

Robbie

Lance is pivoting slowly in place, his eyes scanning the stone wall next to the door. That spot would be a logical location for a coat rack, or at least a peg, but Robbie hasn’t gotten around to putting one in yet. “Here, let me take that,” he murmurs, taking the coat and tossing it onto the bench beneath which he just shoved his boots. “You can put your stuff over there.” He nods toward the sleeping area. He makes the bed every morning, so it looks tidy, but he notes to himself that he should change the sheets after he’s gotten Lance semi-settled in. “There’s nothing in the dresser except whatever Johnny left.” He pauses thoughtfully. “You can borrow whatever you find in there. I bet you two are about the same size, now.”

“I’m not—” Lance begins, and then swallows instead of finishing that thought. Robbie just waits, and after a moment, Lance glances at him, a hunted expression on his face. “I can’t take your bedroom.”

It’s not a bedroom so much as just a bed, but Robbie doesn’t point that out. He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Lance’s gaze flits to the old couch, which Robbie got from an online classified ad, but shouldn’t actually have brought home with him when it had wound up being so much worse in person than in the pictures. He hasn’t found a way to so much as perch on it without encountering a spring or mysterious hard spots. It’s mainly been used by the triplicats, which is his name for the three black cats who wander between the indoors and outdoors, terrorizing everyone and everything they encounter, including Robbie.

“You won’t even fit on that couch,” Lance insists.

Robbie laughs. “I’m not going to try, trust me. There’s a really good air mattress in the closet. I got it for when the boys come.” He’d used it exactly once, when Danny had been there during Christmas break last month, and before the passing thought can bring back the memory of how badly that visit went, Robbie pushes it away.

He almost expects Lance to argue more; he was always a quiet kid, but stubborn, too, and shy of taking anything from someone that crossed some line he had in his mind about what was too generous for him to accept. But the years or the long night he’s had have taken their toll, as Robbie sees when Lance simply gives Robbie a flustered nod and obediently wanders across the loft toward the bed. When he’s in front of the big window, he pauses to look out at the view of the ranch from there.