“Did those assholes hurt you?” North said as he unpacked the bags he was carrying. “Kombucha. A glass water bottle—I know you don’t like plastic, and don’t worry, I already washed it out. Those tofu bars, like the ones you had in the fridge. This is a nut- and dairy-free milk, I think it’s hemp and something else, so good fucking luck. About eight pounds of RX bars—just the blueberry ones because Christ fucking help me if you ever have to eat another flavor.”

“Did Reck hit you?”

“That fucking pretty boy? Please. He can’t make a fist without damaging his manicure.”

Then Shaw knew. It was Tuck. Somehow between now and then, North had seen Tuck, and he and Tuck had gotten into it again, and now here North was, unpacking all of Shaw’s favorite food with a split lip because his husband had clocked him.

North seemed to hear something in Shaw’s silence that he didn’t like because he began speaking again, the words rapid and overly enthusiastic. “And they had this organic rotisserie chicken, and I bought it because I am so fucking out of my head tired that I can’t remember if you’re eating meat right now, but I’m hungry, so if you aren’t eating meat, I’m going to fucking swallow this thing whole.”

“That’s so sweet,” Shaw said. “That’s exactly how I remember you telling me about your first time giving head.”

North spun on him. He put one hand against Shaw’s cheek, a frantic, possessive touch, and his whole hand was shaking, but at least he wasn’t crying this time. After a moment, he said, “What happened to your hair?”

“Of course, I remember Nick Navarra told it differently. He said he’d practically been skinned alive down there.” Shaw grinned and tapped his teeth. “Gotta watch out for these guys.”

North’s hand had gone still against the side of Shaw’s face, and the touch was so hot that it was cooking. “Where did you get a scrunchie?”

“I noticed Tuck kind of limping and adjusting his pants after your anniversary. Maybe you need to invest in a mouth guard.”

North stared at him for another long moment. Then he pushed, gently and firmly, shoving on Shaw’s face until Shaw started to grin and butted back against North’s hand. With a snort, North turned away and opened the kombucha, saying, “Tuck doesn’t have any complaints. Trust me.”

Chapter 36

Barr and Reck still didn’t want Shaw to leave, and after Shaw had nibbled on a blueberry RX bar—he wasn’t hungry, but North was about to jam it down his throat, so he picked at it and swallowed a few crumbs—Shaw knew what he had to do. He kept looking at North. He kept seeing the split lip. He was seeing, too, a wall of glass in the darkness, and the muffled shouts, and the soft pop of the strap. He threw the rest of the RX bar in the trash.

“Do you fucking mind?” North said. “I paid for that.”