Reno

I didn't know whether to be irritated or not at the constant chattering of Riley and Elliot simply not shutting the fuck up. Ever since they'd decided to ease the ‘leash' attached to Riley, I'd been seeing a lot more of him. On the one hand, that meant I wasn't the sole focus of Elliot's constant need to talk, but on the other, it meant I often had to deal with the two of them constantly talking in the background.

They were talking about some kid's cartoon I had only the vaguest memories of. It was pointless chatter, but there was no denying that Elliot really did light up when he was given a chance to talk to someone who could keep up with him. To my unending annoyance, I found that sometimes I actually felt bad because I was a shitty conversationalist.

It went right along with a bunch of other irritating moments when I found myself feeling bad for him or realizing I was an asshole to him. The man was a moron half the time, but I begrudgingly had to admit there was nothing…morally offensive about him. He wasn't a bad person, but in all fairness to him, he didn't try to act like a good person either, which made him a lot harder to ignore compared to someone like Riley, who seemed to exude goodness out of every hole in his body.

"Hey!" Max's rough voice barked from the nearby barn. "You two going to stand around and gossip, or are you going to do your work?"

"We're taking a break from the heat," Riley called back with a smile. It was a nice smile, I'd give him that. And I'm sure for anyone but me, it was probably a comforting smile. I wondered how the hell someone like him ended up in a place like this. Just what the hell had he done to end up behind bars in the first place? "You always said you appreciated that I didn't overdo it like a stubborn mule."

"Not the words I used, but sure," Max grunted, shaking his head as he fiddled with the saddles. I hadn't paid much attention and didn"t care since the guy clearly knew what he was doing. He was a former program member who had graduated but stuck around in an actual job, and Mona wouldn't bring someone onto the workforce for purely sentimental reasons.

"Need something?" Max asked, and I stiffened in surprise. I'd been watching him long enough to realize he'd been fixing and maintaining the saddles and for him to notice.

"Just watching what you're doing," I told him with a shrug, returning to cleaning the dirty hay off the ground. "Just ignore me."

"I don't give a shit if you watch," he said, his eyes drifting over to the chattering duo. "If those two can pretend like they're just taking a break, you can dick around too."

It was the first time I'd ever spoken directly to Max one-on-one, and I was already finding that perhaps he and I had more in common than I thought. Certainly, more than either of us had in common with the happy duo still laughing over cartoon hijinks. It wasn't just that he was grumpy, though he wasn't nearly as hostile as I usually was. There was something…I don't know, somber about him that I recognized as I watched him carefully work through the stitching of one saddle. I had no reason to think it, considering he had barely said three sentences to me, but the thought occurred to me, and refused to go away.

"So…why'd they stick him with you?" I asked abruptly.

"What?" he asked, his brow furrowing further.

"Riley," I said, nodding toward him. "Or if you want, why'd they stick you with him? Whatever way works, I guess. It's not like you were a mentor before."

He snorted harshly. "Because I haven't been, never wanted to be one. But good fucking luck trying to tell Mona no when she's hellbent on getting her way."

That much I could understand. "Still, kinda weird to put you two together."

He finished whatever he was doing and looked up at me. "I could say the same about you and Elliot. All I've ever seen is you pissed off and him annoying everyone, including you."

"Annoying me is like getting the ground wet when you piss. You don't have to try," I shrugged, realizing I wasn't thrilled at his description of Elliot. Sure, the guy was a pain in the ass, but it wasn't like Max had ever had anything to do with him…or any guy in the program for that matter other than Riley.

He managed a crooked smile. "Fair enough. How long have you two been stuck with each other?"

It seemed telling that he just left out stating who was stuck with who, jumping right to acknowledging the truth: we were both bound to suffer and try each other. "I don't know, it's been…" I had to think about it for a minute. "Month and a half? Something like that."

"Well, seems like in what, fifty or so days, you two have managed not to kill each other," he said, lips twitching. "Though it looked like you two made a good try of it a couple of weeks ago."

"I had some pent-up energy, and he's always got pent-up energy. Having a wrestling match seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess we went too far."

"Yeah…you keep up that story. Just know that not one person is buying that horse shit."

"We aren't going to say different."

"Hmph, then I guess Mona isn't blind," he said, eyes going distant as he stared off toward the horizon.

"Uh, what?" I asked, wondering where that had come from.

"Look, that woman does everything for a purpose. She might be a pushy bitch about it, hell she'll tell you that, and she might put your balls in a vice to make sure it happens," he said with a rueful smile. "Trust me, I know that tactic all too well. But she's the kind of person who can be ruthless in getting what she wants, but what she wants is for the good of the ranch and its people."

"Kind of a messy combination," I noted, and he chuckled, nodding.

"It is. People are fucking messy. Not one fucking person isn't messy, and definitely the guys that come here for the program. We're disasters."

"You're not. You graduated."

"If you think I'm not still a disaster then you're not very far along in the program," his eyes drifted to the duo. "But…maybe you're further along than you think."

"Fucking hell, are you always this vague? Or is it just a thing Tier One's and graduates do?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're old enough to know there's some shit you never understand until you've been there. And there's some shit that, if you're told ahead of time, completely ruins it. All I'm saying is, this program is a pain in the ass sometimes, and the people looking out for you are going to be assholes in your eyes sometimes, but you have to try to pretend to go with it."

"Are you going to tell me to fake it till I make it?"

"What the fuck could it hurt? Not like what you've been doing so far has helped you. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been locked up, had to come to this ranch, got in trouble, and been teamed up with Elliot."

It was much like the speech Elliot gave me weeks ago when we'd both been pulled in to be scolded and punished. Except Max's delivery was a lot less passionate and more…matter of fact. I wanted to be annoyed, but really, if there was anyone who knew the process, it was a graduate. Plus, he wasn't a ‘hope springs eternal' sort of guy like Elliot or Riley, so maybe his perspective had a little more weight for someone like me.

"Although from the looks of you, maybe you do need to change," he said quietly, flipping the saddle over and examining the other side.

"What?" I asked, a laugh creeping out and then dying quickly. "I'd say the past several weeks have been big changes for me."

Particularly the last couple. Neither Elliot nor I had spoken about what happened after our brawl, but things had definitely changed. It had taken me a few days to work up the…determination? Courage? Horniness? Whatever it was, when it had built up enough, I finally took him up on his offer.

Considering he and I were…well, we weren't exactly friends and didn't know each other well, I hadn't known how he'd react to a show of interest. Outright asking had felt weird and awkward, so I'd just thrown it out there. It wasn't like we were good at communicating. After trying to figure out how to handle things, I realized the direct approach was all I was really left with. It was the best way I knew how to get what I wanted, and he seemed to respond…decently to it.

All that worrying had turned out to be well worth it when he'd walked into our cabin, not paying any attention to what I was doing. He'd dropped the box containing the chair we'd have to assemble to replace the one we'd broken and then looked up. The look on his face, eyes wide, lips parted, had made me grin.

"Hey," I'd said, on my back on my bunk, not wearing a stitch of clothing. Which was probably surprising enough, but I was rock hard and slowly stroking myself for good measure.

If there was one thing I definitely had to acknowledge about Elliot, he wasn't subtle about his reactions, and the same enthusiastic genuineness about him that drove me crazy did have its good moments. I had never considered myself to be an ugly guy, and hell, I knew my dick was a good one, but I had never once had someone look like they were about to drool over the sight of me naked and hard until Elliot.

To call the sex enthusiastic would be an understatement, though it wasn't nearly as rough as the first time. It had just been trading blowjobs since, according to him, his ‘asshole was still bitching,' which…fair enough. I wasn't going to complain, I liked a good blowjob, and to his surprise, I enjoyed giving them as well. It was funny how much he had to fight for control and not yell to the heavens when he was enjoying himself, but really, I kind of liked it.

That had broken the door open between us, and things had been…well, good but strange. It wasn't something we'd talked about, neither of us bringing up the fact that we were sleeping together figuratively. Honestly, it was the best sex I'd had in a long time. Elliot was an attentive and extremely enthusiastic partner. We might have been breaking the rules, though none about sexual relations had ever been given to me, but I didn't give a shit. They stuck us with each other and wanted us to get along, and we were finding a way to do that.

It might not have been in the way they intended, but it was fucking working. We still got on one another's nerves, but that also worked out fine for me. Somewhere in my head, a few wires had been crossed, and now, when I was frustrated with him, I just took my clothes off. Elliot was pretty hotheaded himself, stubborn, and independent, but he had absolutely no shame or worries about submitting when I got aggressive with him sexually. It was the sort of self-awareness and lack of concern about his image that I admired and envied.

I resurfaced from my thoughts and felt my face warm when I realized what kind of thoughts I'd just been having and how far into them I'd fallen. I was glad Max wasn't paying attention as he continued working and that I'd chosen to wear looser jeans than usual. If I wasn't careful, I would end up dragging Elliot to the nearest surface in our cabin when we got back.

"Come back to reality?" Max asked, and I grimaced inwardly.

"Just thinking," I muttered, bowing my head so he couldn't see how red my face was.

"Seems like you do too much of that already."

"Why because I'm quiet? You don't have room to talk."

"Yeah, speaking from personal experience."

"I don't think too much."

"Really? Is that why you look like shit?"

"What the fuck?"

He eyed me, smirking. "Seriously? You've looked in a mirror lately, right?"

"I look fine," I grumbled, shoving the pitchfork into the nearest pile and grunting when I hit hard-packed dirt.

"Right, you don't look like you haven't seen this side of a good night's sleep in ages," he said, sounding disinterested.

"Elliot stays up half the night, and I don't hear anyone giving him shit," I snapped. It was true, the idiot stayed up until the late hours, and then it was a fight and a half to get him out of bed. Lately, I'd taken to dragging him out of bed since the allure of a comfortable pillow and blanket seemed to be what kept him repeatedly trying to doze off.

"You wouldn't be the first guy to have bad dreams," he said quietly.

Alarm shot through me, and I snapped my head toward him. "Who the fuck said anything about dreams?"

"Me. Weren't you paying attention?"

"I'm dreaming just fine. Fuck off."

"Sure," he said, unfazed by my reaction and continuing what he was doing. "But you know, if you ever feel like you're not getting enough sleep, just go to the clinic. They've got stuff that'll set you up for a good night's sleep, no dreams."

"Speaking from personal experience again?" I spat at him.

His eyes drifted up to mine, holding my gaze for a heartbeat. "Yes."

It was more than a little difficult to find a way to argue against that. The guy was just being honest with me and wasn't trying to show me any pity. It was the sort of combination that left me feeling helpless, which just pissed me off even further.

"Riley," Elliot piped up suddenly, the two of them closer than I'd realized as they walked up. "Can you tell your babysitter not to piss off my bunkmate? I've gotta live with him, and he can be kinda cranky."

"Fuck off," I growled, not knowing why he felt the need to eavesdrop.

"I think he gets the point, Max," Riley said, throwing a smile my way before walking up to Max.

"I'm allowed to talk," Max muttered but stopped when Riley began to talk to him in a voice so low I couldn't understand. Not that I wanted to hear whatever he had to say, even if I did feel a flicker of curiosity when I watched Max's stony expression soften slightly.

"So," Elliot said, looking me over. "Trying to clean the ground or the hay?"

"The hay, what the fuck else?" I snapped at him, turning my back on the other two.

"Then you should probably stop trying to stab the ground. I'm the one who's supposed to break shit because I'm the dumbass, remember?" he asked, arching a brow.

"You are a dumbass," I grumbled, somehow managing to appreciate and detest the slight easing of tension in my shoulders as I realized he was teasing me, but I could still see the concern in his eyes. "And I'm not going to break anything."

"Certainly looks like you're making a good attempt at it."

"Has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you are?"

"Mmm, you manage it at least half a dozen times a day, and that's on a good day," he told me, leaning closer. "The good days are the ones where we get laid."

"I like how you had to make it a ‘we' thing," I told him, knowing full well he was trying to distract me with sex talk and that it was working.

"I mean," he began, looking off into the distance wistfully. "You did give it to me pretty good the other day."

"Just the other day."

"Alright, I might be willing to admit that you consistently give it to me good."

"Uh huh, and when was the last time you got laid before we fucked?"

"Is that important?"

"I mean, you could be looking through rose-tinted glasses. Pretty easy to think the sex is good when you haven't been getting any."

Elliot grinned, leaning against the nearby fencepost and watching me as I tried to busy myself with cleaning up more. "What makes you think it's been that long?"

"You telling me those guys were right?" I asked and then winced.

His brow scrunched up. "What guys? About what?"

"I…goddammit, I'm picking up your big mouth," I complained with a sigh. "I never meant to tell you."

"Tell me what, Reno?"

"That…that day you were all into that whittling shit. A couple of guys were talking about you. I could hear them from where I was sitting, but I don't think they realized."

"And what did they say?"

"A lot of shit that wasn't their business."

"Reno, c'mon. I'm a big boy."

I rolled my eyes. "A big kid, maybe."

"Just tell me," he said, beginning to sound irritated.

"Fine," I said, my next stab at the dirty hay a little harder than it needed to be. "They were calling you a faggot, and talked about how you probably let yourself get passed around while you were in whatever prison you were in. I didn't hear much more after that because I left."

"Oh," he said and then shrugged. "Well, if that's the worst they said, I think I can handle that."

"Seriously? I call you a name, and you want to bitch me out. They talk like that about you, and you don't give a shit?"

"Should I give a shit what some random asshats had to say about me? Should I walk up to them and tell them that ‘faggot' is a naughty word that can hurt feelings? That's not going to change shit. And it won't matter if I tell them, no, I did not, in fact, get passed around, and I kept outta that shit while I was behind bars, do you think they'll believe me? That they'll care?"

"Tch. So it was a waste of emotions on my part," I grumbled. "You still didn't tell me why you get pissed at me, and they get away without even a little bitching."

Instead of answering immediately, he watched me for a few seconds before giving a slow shrug. "I guess because I don't give a shit what they have to say. People have been saying nasty shit about me my whole life, I got used to it."

His answer created a…complicated reaction. At first glance, I wanted to tell him he shouldn't shrug it off when people were dicks to him and should be more like he was whenever I gave him shit. On second thoughts, it felt strange that he was apparently attributing more weight to my words and behavior. Maybe now we were living together and had been screwing, I could see how that might color his views on me. But he had been combative against my attitude from pretty much the beginning, so what did that say? Had he been giving more weight to my words even when he didn't know me?

That was a troubling thought and not one I wanted to worry about too much. I wasn't going to try to understand the weird and twisting ways his mind worked. I valued what little of my sanity was left for something like that. Plus, the thought had a lot of implications I was nowhere near prepared to go anywhere near.

"Hey!" I heard Max bark, pulling me out of my uncomfortable thoughts. "Leave the guy who's actually getting work done alone and let him do his thing."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Well, boss man is calling. I guess I should probably go…for now."

"Yeah, leave me in peace," I huffed. I wasn't sure if I really wanted him to go, but I definitely wasn't comfortable with the feelings I was being left with.

"Sure, sure," he said, glancing over. Then he pushed away from the fence and leaned in close. "And don't think I missed how you got defensive on my behalf."

"I didn't?—"

"Or that's why you were in such a pissy mood that day. I know you don't want me to call it sweet, but I appreciate it. And hell, look where it got us. I'm not going to complain."

I was usually pretty good at having something to say when something weird or stupid came out of his mouth, but this time, I could only stare at him wide-eyed. His low chuckle sent a tingle through me, and while there was a definite note of arousal in it that spoke promises of what I would do to him later, there was also something else.

Something warmer, softer, and I remembered when I was twelve and zoning out during math. I had let my eyes fall upon Davis Willis. Puberty had crept up on him that year, and he was already the tallest and strongest guy in our class. It seemed puberty had also started its creep into my system because I remember how he'd glanced at me and grinned at some joke he'd made, and that same fluttering feeling had passed through me then.

Except now I was a full-grown adult, not some preteen on the verge of adolescence and experiencing his first crush. I wasn't twelve and tormented over the realization that I was nothing like the other guys in my class, though I would fight like hell to pretend to be for a long time. I had gone through enough growing up to know better than to trust those feelings, even if they had swept me away at a young age like most emotions did.

And I definitely wasn't getting those feelings for Elliot, no way in hell.

I didn't jerkawake as much as feel myself torn back to reality. Chest heaving, I looked around the dark room to realize I was already sitting up, my dream melting away. Being awake was stripping the details of the dream from me. Still, it left behind a nasty residue made up of the emotions that had filled my mental wandering through memories that were better left forgotten and the horrors it could still conjure up.

No, not dreams, nightmares.

I was covered in sweat, which meant not only taking a shower as quietly as possible but changing the sheets without too much fuss. One good thing about Elliot staying up late was he always slept like a corpse. My chances of waking him up were next to zero, and I knew the longer I lay around, the more disgusting I would feel. At least it wasn't like when I was a kid and would sometimes wake up covered in sweat and piss.

It was a memory I didn't need to hold onto, and I shoved it aside as I slid out of bed. A glance at the other bunk showed Elliot wrapped in his sheet, looking like he was trying some complicated yoga pose. I couldn't see his face, but he didn't stir when the floorboard creaked under my feet. I watched him for a moment, wondering what it must be like to sleep so peacefully through the night. He never seemed bothered by anything, and I had to envy that.

Sighing, I went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. Stripping off my clothes, I flipped on the water and stepped in, not bothering to wait for it to warm up. The cool water shocked my sweat-covered, heated skin, but I steadily stayed under it to let it flow over me, hoping it would wash away the mental grime and the literal.

My dreams had plagued me on and off since I was a kid. I usually knew what brought them back, and this was no different. It had been weeks since I'd got the news, but the reality that my grandmother was no longer in this world still haunted me. Some days, it was easy to forget that one of the two greatest people in the world I had ever known was no longer on this earth. My life had been changed beyond description in more ways than just a prison sentence.

There were plenty of distractions during the day, with Elliot being the most obvious. I'd never admit it to him, but his antics and constant chatter were annoying but effective distractions from the potential storm of thoughts in my head. With the addition of the much-appreciated sexual component of our ‘partnership,' things were even more distracting.

Yet even he wasn't enough to distract my brain when it came time to sleep. When my brain should have been at its quietest, things would come back to me, made fresh by the ‘wonderful' power of dreams. I could always predict when the dreams would resurface, but I could never predict what they would be about. Honestly, there were so many things for my brain to haunt me with, I suppose it just picked from the rich assortment of horrors and rolled with it.

The mirror had barely begun to steam when I got out of the shower, grabbing the towel I'd used earlier. Elliot and I were a lot more liberal with our displays of nudity when we were in for the night, but we weren't complete nudists. Even though our cabin was pretty isolated, and there had shockingly been no ‘house visits' to see how we were doing, I didn't think it was a good idea to risk it. Then again, if someone like Leon or Mona saw Elliot strutting about in nothing, they probably wouldn't be surprised.

Flipping off the light, I opened the bathroom door and froze. My sheets had been torn off the bed, and fresh ones were neatly put on. Elliot was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching me through bleary eyes, and he even smiled a little.

"What…are you doing?" I asked slowly, my hand gripping the towel wrapped around my waist with unnecessary force. It wasn't like if the thing fell that Elliot would be seeing anything he hadn't seen before…or sucked…or had in him…or any number of other things.

"I changed your sheets and pillowcase," he said with a heavy yawn.

"Yeah, I see that. But why?"

"Well, didn't think you'd want to sleep in sweaty sheets."

"I…" Okay, I didn't actually know what to say to that. My brain was still wrapped in that weird fog that came after the nightmares. "Why did you do it?"

"Well, you were in the shower," he said, his face breaking into a small smile that told me he was being a little shit. "You couldn't do it from in there."

"That's not what I'm fucking asking," I snapped, not wanting to play these word games with him.

"I know," he said, his smile fading. "But it's one less thing you have to worry about. I thought about making you coffee, but kinda figured that caffeine wouldn't wake you up any more than you already are and probably wind you up more."

He was right about that, but it felt weird to acknowledge that he'd put so much thought into it. Elliot was supposed to be dead asleep when I came out of the shower, allowing me to clean up after myself without anyone knowing. Now that he was clearly conscious and aware of something having happened, I felt even more naked than I already technically was.

"Thanks, I guess," I huffed as I sat on the edge of the bed, carefully arranging the towel so it wouldn't give him a free show. Again, it wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before, but right now, it left me feeling vulnerable.

"Sure," he said in a casual, light voice that was just too casual and light to be believable. He had clearly known I'd soiled my bed with all that sweat, which meant he was more aware of what had happened than I would have preferred. It stunk of feeling sorry for me and did nothing to improve my already sour mood.

"You didn't need to do that."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you don't have to stay up and babysit me. I'm fine."

"Sure."

"Quit!"

"Quit what?" he asked, his voice finally showing an edge of weariness. "Giving a shit. Is that what's pissing you off? Or is it because you can't be pissed off at dreams? I mean, I guess you could, but that would mean getting pissed off at your own head, which don't you do enough?—"

"Wait," I interrupted before he could go on his full ramble. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if he rambled because he felt the undying need to fill silence or because he was nervous. "What about my dreams?"

"You know, I could tell you, but that would require you not to rip my head off because I might be showing you that god-awful thing called kindness."

"I don't need your?—"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, God in Heaven," he groaned, clapping his hands over his face and squeezing. "That shit again."

"Yes!" I insisted between clenched teeth. "Because it's the truth!"

"Like, do you even understand that pity comes in more than one flavor?" he asked, voice muffled behind his hands. "Like, there's the ‘oh you poor baby, how bad I feel for you' that you hate so much. And then there's the ‘wow, what you're going through sucks, and I feel bad for you' like…seriously?"

"You're acting like there's a difference."

"There is, you stubborn, prideful asshole! The first is because you're looking down on the person to make yourself feel better. The second is…because you care about them because you feel bad that person is going through it, and you want to try to help. Not because you need help but because you want to give it."

"I don't?—"

"AGH," he bellowed, flopping back onto his bed, flailing his arms and legs in every direction. "Why are you like this? I'm not trying to treat you like a child. I'm treating you like a full-grown man who's had a bad night and, from the sounds of it, a shitty life. Like, do you really think every fucking person who shows you kindness, especially in bad moments, is looking down on you? God's sake, do you treat your sister like that? What about your grandma?"

On one level, I knew he was trying to make a point, and it was probably a good one. All I heard was a comment about my grandmother, and felt the still raw wound in me open again. It should have enraged me, my pain funneling into my anger until I snapped and barked at him, prepared to fight.

Instead, I felt the pain leak out of me, wrapping around me in a cocoon of black misery. My eyes prickled, and I ducked my head, trying to hide the evidence that would probably start showing on my face. Even now, as I felt my emotions overwhelm me, the last thing I wanted was for someone to see me cry.

I had been seven years old the last time I'd let something like that happen. I'd got into trouble again, as I did a lot at that age. Back then, I couldn't explain why I kept doing everything I knew I shouldn't be doing, but I did them anyway. I didn't even remember what I'd done wrong, but I remembered tears springing to my eyes as they screamed at me. It didn't matter how many times I got yelled at. I still always found ways to screw up and then had to fight tears as I was punished.

"Fuck, there he goes with the waterworks again," my mother had hissed, her face twisted into such a look of disgust that I'd felt my stomach twist into painful knots.

"I'll fucking give him something to cry about since he don't wanna listen," my father had snapped, descending on me.

It wasn't my first or last beating at his hands, and it didn't really stick out. My mother was what had stuck out to me more than anything. The way she looked as though I were nothing, like a piece of dog shit on her shoe. I hadn't just done something wrong. I had disgusted her by showing her my tears. Minutes later, trying to staunch the bleeding from my lip, it was her expression that stuck with me. I had vowed then that it would be the last time anyone would ever see me cry, and it was a promise I had kept to this day.

"No," I muttered, staring steadily at my bare feet. "I didn't treat them like that."

"Didn't?" he asked carefully. "As in?—"

"My sister's fine," I said, clearing my throat roughly. "Mara's still…well, hanging in there, like she always does."

"But—"

"Yeah," I said in a low voice. "My grandma wasn't so lucky."

"Geez…when?"

"Couple of months ago."

"A couple of…oh."

His tone brought my head up to frown at him. "What?"

"Would that, uh…happen to coincide with the time you decked Riley and almost got into it with me?" he wondered, arching a brow.

For someone oblivious to just about everything, he'd certainly managed to connect the dots quickly. All I could do was give him a sour smile. "Yeah. I found out literally minutes before I joined the wrestling thing."

Elliot stared at me for what felt like forever before letting out a deep sigh. "Well, that certainly…explains some things."

"It doesn't explain shit," I shot back at him with a glare.

"I said explain, not excuse," he said quickly. "The one thing that always bothered me about that day was it just…wasn't like you."

"You don't…didn't know me at all," I said. I didn't know why I needed to correct myself so urgently. It wasn't like he knew me all that well now, even though we were living and sleeping together. Admittedly, maybe because of our circumstances, he had caught onto a lot more about me than my previous bunkmates.

"Yeah, but even when I'm denser than a brick wall, I still pick up on things," he said, wiggling his hands around his head. "It comes and goes, little…I don't know. I guess Riley would call them insights. You were angry and hostile from the first time I saw you, but I never saw you take that anger out on someone else, not physically. So to have you just…hit Riley like that, especially when he hadn't done anything other than win a wrestling match, it seemed weird."

"And why would you bring that up now?" I asked suspiciously.

"I guess because I stopped thinking about it. I remember thinking it was a really weird reaction from you, but I stopped questioning it. Now, when you bring that up…well, it makes sense. You just took a huge blow. From the sounds of it, the only people you've had in your life are your sister and grandma. Losing one…well, I don't know. I don't know what that's like."

"You lost your mom," I pointed out and then thought about it with a wince. "And your dad."

"I was really young when I lost my mom," he said with a shrug. "Hard to remember much about her. And yeah, I guess I lost my dad too, but…it's like her. I lost him when I was young, even though he was around physically. So it's kind of hard to…I don't know, it's not the same."

"I guess not," I admitted reluctantly.

"So, I'm about to come over to that bed and sit next to you," he said, standing up.

My eyes widened. "What? For what?"

"Shut up," he muttered, crossing the space between us and plopping down on the bed beside me.

"What…are you doing?" I asked, not sure if I should be annoyed or alarmed.

I chose both when he leaned his head on my shoulder, threading his arm behind mine and around to hold my elbow. "Again. What are you?—"

"I used to have really bad dreams too," he told me in a voice so quiet that if he hadn't been inches from my ear, I wouldn't have heard. "It was never about my mom or even my dad. Sometimes they were. I used to dream about drowning all the time. I'd always end up in some deep water somewhere. Sometimes it was a wide river and sometimes just…water. Usually, I was alone, but there were sometimes people I knew with me, but I never remembered who was there when I woke up."

"That's a lot of ‘sometimes,'" I told him, unable to help smiling a little.

He chuckled, his breath brushing over my bare skin. "I had them off and on for years. It almost always went the same way. If there were people with me, they'd disappear right before things went bad. Maybe I'd fall in the water, something would drag me into the water, or my boat or whatever would break. I'd fight and fight and fight to stay afloat, but I always got weak and went under. I used to wake up yelling, waving my arms everywhere like I was trying to swim."

"When did they stop?" I asked, not because I thought mine would stop anytime soon.

"They still show up. I don't know if I'll ever be rid of them."

"Probably not."

"Wanna hear something weird?"

"If it's coming out of you, it's going to be weird."

He chuckled, nudging my shoulder with his cheek. "Well, ever since I got arrested and went to prison…I've only had the dreams a few times. Used to be at least once, usually two or three times a month. But the first night after my sentencing and from that point forward…I've had it…three times? In the past three years? It's weird."

"Who knows why brains work the way they do," I said, frowning. "Didn't you say you turned yourself in?"

"Yeah, everyone else in the group too. Kinda glad the judge was nice and gave me a different prison than them. Otherwise, I might be a whole lot…well, dead. Or worse."

I didn't need to know what could be worse than death because this world was filled with awful fates people suffered all the time, probably thinking death would be kinder. "I don't know. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"You think?"

"I mean, if bad shit can make my dreams pop up, why couldn't something good make yours go away?"

"What about that is good?"

"I mean, I know I gave you shit about it before, but…it is kind of impressive. I don't know a lot of guys' stories here, but how many of them do you think realized they screwed up so royally they needed to turn themselves in?"

"Uh, I guess not too many."

"And you did it because you felt bad and knew it was wrong. Even if it got you thrown behind bars, you did the right thing. That had to feel good."

"I didn't do it because it felt good."

"Look, doing the right thing got you a record and prison time. If you can't enjoy doing the right thing when you're paying a cost for it, what's the fucking point? People need to stop getting so fucking hung up on the idea of doing the right thing just because it's right, and you're not allowed to feel good about it. Feeling good about it afterward is fucking normal."

"I guess," he said somewhat reluctantly.

"How did I even wake you up?" I asked him.

I felt him glance at me. "This time?"

"Wait—"

"Yeah, bud, you've woken me up more than once."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Never knew what to say. You're…not exactly easy to talk to sometimes, especially when something bothers you. Figured you'd take anything I said like I was trying to baby you."

I could only grunt at that because, well, tonight had already proven his suspicion correct. I still wasn't sold on the difference that he insisted existed, but…I also didn't want to remove him from my side. Despite the lurking nightmare in the back of my head, there was the steady presence of his body against mine. In some ways, he was taking comfort from the moment instead of expecting me to take all of it.

My fingers twitched, and hesitantly, I shifted my hand from my towel and placed it over his thighs. Through the thin fabric of his sleep pants, I could feel the warmth of his skin. It wasn't like I hadn't gripped his thighs before, and I felt a familiar wash of lust go through me as I imagined taking him on the bed right then and there. I had no doubt he would have let me, a goofy grin on his face right up until I pushed inside him.

I turned my head toward him, pausing when I realized how close he was. His eyes blurred in my vision momentarily before he closed the distance. It wasn't like any of the kisses we'd shared before. There was the familiar flicker of hunger inside me when his lips met mine, but it was quieter, subdued in the face of something gentler and warmer. He didn't try to part my lips to invite my tongue into his mouth. He just let his lips linger softly on mine before pulling back.

"Go the fuck to bed," I told him softly, glad it was so dim in the room he couldn't see my face going red.

"If it's all the same to you, I kind of want to stay here for a little while," he said, laying his head on my shoulders. "This is actually pretty comfy."

"There's something wrong with you."

"Yeah, but we knew that already."

It turned out I didn't have an objection to him staying there as we waited for the sun to come up.