14

Nico

In the campus security office, Nico stared at Detective Cao—Cerise, he thought numbly; Jadon called her Cerise—and said, again, “I don’t know who did it.”

It was a small room, spartan, with filing cabinets and a desk and a computer and, lying next to the phone like it had been forgotten, a pencil eraser shaped like a cat’s paw. He only vaguely remembered the walk across campus, with Jadon’s hand wrapped around his arm, and then the murmur of voices, the banks of fluorescent lights, until they put him in here. The room smelled closed up, and the computer looked ancient, and Nico had the sense this place didn’t get used much. Only when police needed to interview a hysterical victim, maybe. Or maybe only if the victim had special status because he’d jerked off with a cop the night before.

“I understand that,” Cerise said. “And I also understand that you’re upset right now. But I want you to start thinking about anyone you might have noticed, anyone who seemed even slightly unusual, from the last few days. Just think about it. Keep thinking about it. Something might come to you.”

Even through the haze of shock, Nico could hear the request for what it was: last-gasp desperation. They had no leads. No idea who was doing this. They had nothing.

The discovery in his room had changed everything for Nico. Until then, the situation had evolved from a seeming overreaction on Jadon’s part into a mild concern—even the strange encounter in the darkened dorm, when he thought about it in the light of day, could have been bad luck. A burglary gone wrong. But finding that his room had been searched, his clothing pawed through, his underwear stolen—that meant something different. Someone was following Nico. Someone was—well, the word obsessed came to mind, but that sounded dramatic, like something off TV. It sounded impossible.

Cerise asked a few more questions, asked if Nico needed anything, and left. The door clicked softly when it shut in its frame, and then he was alone. Muffled voices from the next room suggested a conference. I’m going home tomorrow, Nico wanted to tell them. It’s not a big deal. And then, without any warning, he was fighting back tears as he dragged out his phone.

Emery answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t do that,” Nico said, although the words lost some of their force because he sounded so phlegmy. And then the story spilled out of him—the man who had followed him, the darkened dorm building and the running footsteps, his room.

“I can be there in five hours,” Emery said. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until you get to a police station. The closest one is either headquarters or central patrol; one sec, and I’ll have an Uber headed your way.”

“No, Em—”

“Then I want you to wait there for me.”

“I don’t want—”

“Five hours. Don’t hang up.”

“Emery Hazard!”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to do that! And I’m trying to tell you, and you’re steamrolling me!”

More of that silence.

“Oh my God,” Nico moaned.

Emery’s laughter was barely more than a breath.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said.

“No, I should have listened. Although, to be fair, if I see this fucking chiropractor fuck one more woman upside down, I’m going to lose my fucking mind, so I might have been a bit motivated to call it quits on this job.”

“What do you mean ‘upside down’?”

“Is there more than one meaning?”

“But, I mean, how—” Nico managed to stop. He wiped his eyes. “This one’s insurance fraud, right?”

“Yeah, he can’t work, he can’t walk his dog, he can’t take his trash cans down to the road. But he can plow at a hundred and eighty degrees without any complications.”

“I still have zero idea what that means. And why did he have to go to Chicago? Can’t he find somebody closer?”

“I don’t know, Nico. Should I ask him? Maybe there’s a special zero-g brothel here.”

“Goodbye, Emery. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you want me to come get you right now?”

“Because you’re working. And I’m fine.” And, Nico thought, that would be the icing on the cake, having my ex show up a day early to take me home while everybody else in the seminar goes out for the closing dinner. Because I was being stalked. The definition of professionalism. “I’ll see you tomorrow, around noon. If you come early, I’m going to be mad.”

“Colt would make one of those awful ‘That’s what she said’ jokes.”

“It’s not a joke. It’s something people say.”

“Or John. He wouldn’t have missed that.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I want you to call North and Shaw.”

Nico had one horrifying moment when he allowed himself to imagine North and Shaw “helping” him, and in the process, running into Jadon. North would probably say something like Medical science might be able to save the stump of Jadon’s atrophied dick, and Shaw would probably perform a dogs-only wedding ceremony that was somehow legally binding. “Pass,” he said.

Emery laughed quietly. “I’m serious. They’re good at what they do, and I trust them.”

“That’s a remarkable statement since the last time North was going to stop by the office you told me to hide all the good pens, and when I—”

“Because he always takes one with him.”

“And,” Nico continued a little more firmly, “when I asked you which ones were the good pens, you said all of them.”

“Obviously. We don’t buy cheap pens, Nico; that’s bad office management. You end up spending more in the long run—” Somehow, he reined himself in. “If you don’t call them, I will.”

“Em!”

“I’m serious. And I want you to stay at their house—”

“No, pass, a million passes. Last time you made me drop something off, I met Jadon, and look how that turned out.”

The muffled voices in the next room sounded louder now. Angrier.

“What does that mean?” Emery asked.

“Nothing.” When Emery didn’t say anything, Nico added in a rush, “I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll be fine.”

“I want you to stay in a hotel tonight.”

“Emery.”

“I’ll pay. Use one of the business credit cards.” His voice turned dry. “The one you conveniently forget, on a regular basis, to put back in the safe.”

“Because I have to take it out every day, and the door on that safe is fucking heavy!”

“Arm days, Nico. You’re not going to be a twink forever.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Text me the name of the hotel.”

“Goodbye, Em. I love you.”

“And how much it costs. I love you too. In a platonic—”

Nico disconnected the call.

The door opened, and Jadon stuck his head into the room. His body was stiff, and his mouth was a hard slash. He jerked his head, and Nico followed him.

Outside Waverley, the day’s chill had hardened into cold. A steady breeze swept clouds across the sky, and a sudden shower of rain fell and then was gone—and then another came in its wake, and that one was gone too. The air smelled like damp soil and wet wood, and even though it was only late afternoon, the day was gloomy, almost dark.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jadon said as they started across campus.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

Jaw clenched, Jadon didn’t answer.

They walked in silence. A troupe of college-aged boys, ones who had stayed during fall break for some reason, emerged from one of the buildings ahead. They were already dressed for Halloween: slutty cowboy, slutty firefighter, slutty football player, slutty Where’s Waldo guy. Waldo, presumably. They were talking excitedly over each other, the words drunk-loud, which meant they’d been pregaming. As Nico watched, the slutty football player pointed toward the quad and shouted, “Bruh, I could totally beat that squirrel in a race.” And then he took off at a surprisingly good clip until he tried to hurdle one of the low brick walls, flipped, and landed hard on his back. His bruhs laughed uncontrollably as they made their way to where he lay.

“Do you think we should check on him?” Nico asked.

Jadon shot a flat look over at the guys. Then a tiny smile softened his mouth. “It looks like he’s going to survive.”

Already, the football player was back on his feet. Honestly, Nico thought the fresh mud on the jersey—and the bare skin and muscle underneath—was going to work wonders for him in the Halloween hookup division.

“I’m sorry they’re being such assholes,” Jadon said, and as he spoke, heat smoldered in his voice again. “I’m sorry they can’t see there’s a serious problem happening on campus. I mean, for fuck’s sake, they might as well be helping this guy. It’s like they don’t want him to get caught. And the department—yeah, I know it’s a fucking break-in. I know there’s always a string of those on campus during the scheduled breaks. I know. I fucking know. And I’m telling you, that’s not what this is. It’s like they think I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m talking about.”

The bros were moving again, their conversations splintering now that the squirrel race was over. One of them, earnestness carrying even through his slurred speech, said consolingly to another, “I mean, your intentions were good. You were just trying to nut.”

Nico worked hard to keep his face straight.

In an underbreath, Jadon said, “You have got to be kidding.”

“He makes a good point,” Nico said. “The best of intentions.”

“Sometimes I think between eighteen and twenty-two, they aren’t even real people.”

“Try fourteen and twenty-two,” Nico said. “Let me introduce you to Colt. I swear to Christ, I’ve never bought so many bulky, baggy sweaters since he started living with Emery and John-Henry. I practically have to wear a potato sack every time I go over there.”

A laugh burst out of Jadon, erasing some of the lines in his face. He took Nico’s hand without any apparent hesitation—just reached out and slid their fingers together. His hand was warm and large, fitting nicely around Nico’s.

“I’m sorry. Again. I shouldn’t lose my temper.”

“I’ll admit I’ve never heard you say so many fucks. It’s kind of reassuring, actually. I feel like I get a daily ration from Emery, and I’ve been running short the last few days.”

Jadon’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t answer.

“You can be upset.” Nico tugged on his hand until he got another smile. “You can swear as much as you want. It won’t faze me.”

For a heartbeat, it seemed like Jadon wouldn’t speak, but then the words poured out of him. “It’s—I mean, yes, I’m angry that they’re not taking this seriously. I’m not joking when I tell you that I think the university is being criminally negligent, and ultimately, they’re going to be found liable for it. And my department is being just as bad—willfully blind because it’s easier for them, in the short run, to believe all these incidents are isolated and unimportant. But what gets me is that—is that it’s all about fucking Barr.”

He was silent for a long time. They’d lost the drunken college boys, and in the campus’s quiet, the only sounds were branches creaking in the wind, and the occasional wet leaf smacking the pavement, and the distant hum of traffic.

Nico didn’t need him to explain about Barr—not the basics, anyway. Some of it, in bits and pieces, Jadon had told him in the midnight hours. And some of it Nico had learned through google-fu. Barr had been Jadon’s partner, a detective with the Metropolitan police. He’d also been a serial killer, and he’d operated for years without being caught.

“They think I’m an embarrassment to the department, and they’re not wrong.”

“Jay—”

“But what’s worse is they don’t take me seriously. I mean, I didn’t know my own partner was out there butchering people. What kind of a detective does that make me?” He breathed out slowly, the wind ripping the white vapor to shreds. “Maybe they’re not wrong. Maybe I should leave.”

“Jadon—” Nico had to stop.

“Peregrin,” he said helpfully, because he was Jadon.

“Jadon Peregrin Reck—wait,? Like the falcon?”

“Yes, but also, way, way worse.”

Nico laughed in spite of himself. “Now you have to tell me.”

“They couldn’t agree on a middle name. They wanted something natural, you know. Something related to nature.”

“Like a peregrine falcon.”

“Uh huh,” Jadon said with a trace of amusement. “But one of my moms was into The Lord of the Rings, and one of the hobbits is named Peregrin Took.”

They walked another yard before Nico said, “You have got to be shitting me.”

“They tried calling me Pip and Pippin, but I put a stop to that in middle school.”

“Oh. My. God.” And after that, there was only one pertinent question: “Does Shaw know?”

Jadon burst out laughing. “No, thank goodness. I was going to lie if he ever asked; thank God it never came to that. I think I was going to tell him it was Michael.”

Nico leaned into him, smelling the wool of his suit, the heat of his body, the sweetness of the world washed clean by rain. “I like it. Jadon Peregrin Reck. My little hobbit.”

This time, Jadon laughed more quietly.

“He lied to everyone,” Nico said. “And everyone fell for it. Not you.”

“Not everyone was his partner.”

“But he’d killed those guys years before you were partners, Jay. You can’t blame yourself. And if anyone else blames you, they’re idiots.”

Jadon didn’t answer.

After another few yards, when he still hadn’t said anything, Nico said, “Emery thinks I should call North and Shaw.”

“What? Why?”

“Just, you know, for some help. Until he can pick me up tomorrow.”

Something flickered across Jadon’s face, and then his expression was as smooth as glass. “Do you want to call them?”

Nico opened his mouth to say no, but what came out was “I don’t know.”

They walked a few more paces. Jadon let go of Nico’s hand.

“If you want to call them,” Jadon said, “then you should.”

“It’s, you know, they’re good at what they do.”

Jadon nodded. “So, call them.”

“Emery suggested it. You know, like an option.”

“Right.”

Nico didn’t know what to say. The conversation’s rhythm felt off. Jadon’s face told him nothing. His hand felt cold, and he thought about reaching for Jadon’s. He had the strange sense he needed to apologize.

But before he could do anything, Jadon said, “Because it’s not like you’re with anybody who can, you know, make sure you’re safe.”

“Jay—”

“It’s not like I haven’t been trying for the last three days.”

“Hold on—”

“No,” Jadon said, “your ex was right. You did the right thing, calling them.”

The way he said your ex was like a gust of red-hot air blowing through Nico’s head, and for the next few paces, he couldn’t speak. When he finally got control of his voice, he said, “I didn’t call them, Jadon. I told you that’s what he suggested. If you think it’s a bad idea, I won’t call them.”

But Jadon didn’t respond.

Harlow Hall rose ahead of them, hulking gray limestone in the shrouding gloom. Nico wanted to take out his phone and check the clock; how long had he been in the security office? What time was it? But he could see how that would go, taking his phone out of his pocket, the way Jadon’s mind would jump immediately to the worst possible conclusion.

“I’m sorry,” Jadon finally said. His voice was low and rough, and he kept his gaze locked on the building. “Of course you should do whatever makes you feel safe.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on. Can you talk to me, please?”

“Nothing’s going on.” His mouth slanted, the expression too tired and jaded to be a smile. “I’ll call them if you want. Shaw will be thrilled. Actually, North will be thrilled too, if only because it gives him a chance to get a dig in.”

“I don’t want you to call them for me. I don’t want you to do anything for me, Jadon. Believe it or not, I’m a big boy. I want you to tell me what’s going on.” Jadon’s sandy-dark eyes met Nico’s for a moment, and Nico thought, No wonder he’s losing his mind. The hollows were deeper, the smudges, more noticeable, so bad that, at a casual glance, they could have passed for bruises. It sounded more accusatory than he intended when he said, “You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I slept.” He rolled his eyes at whatever he saw on Nico’s face and added, “Some. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

You’re only one person, Nico wanted to say. You have to sleep and eat and take care of yourself, or you’re not going to be able to help anyone, let alone keep me safe. You can’t keep pushing and pushing. Not forever. You need someone to make you take care of yourself, you big dummy, because obviously you’re not doing it on your own.

But what he said was “What if we skip the party tonight? I’ll get a hotel, and you can have a staycation. We’ll lock the door and have a nice, quiet night.” Jadon’s eyes brightened, and Nico laughed. “Sleeping.”

“God, you know it’s bad when sleep almost sounds better than sex.”

“Almost?” Nico asked.

Jadon smirked. He hooked Nico’s pinky with his own and gave a tug.

“Nico.” Dr. Meza’s voice boomed with friendliness that sounded a little off key. “There you are!”

Nico slid his hand free of Jadon’s. Meza was coming toward them along one of the brick footpaths. He was still dressed in a suit, and he still looked...well, good. He smiled when he caught Nico’s eye, and then his gaze moved up and down him quickly before returning to Nico’s face. His smile broadened. Nico was suddenly aware of Jadon next to him, of how big Jadon was, and how Jadon made himself bigger by putting his hands on his hips, his shoulders broad, his stance tall and strong.

Oh my God, Nico thought, and the giggle in his throat felt near hysterical. What if he fights him?

“I was hoping I’d run into you before dinner,” Meza said, flicking a dismissive glance at Jadon before his attention came back to Nico. He stood close enough that Nico caught a whiff of expensive cologne—lavender, and something citrusy, and something else, darker, smokier. “I wanted to talk about your paper.”

“The dinner,” Nico said. Because he’d already forgotten.

“You’re coming, aren’t you? You’d better. It’s going to be a snooze if you don’t; Bill goes on and on, and he’s even worse after a glass of wine.”

“I don’t know.” Nico fought the urge to look at Jadon; out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Jadon was reading something on his phone, his face dark. Was he upset about a message, maybe? Or politely pretending, Nico considered, not to be enraged by the conversation? “It’s been a crazy afternoon.”

“Nico.” Meza lowered his voice, making a wall of his body to wall Jadon out of the conversation. Jadon didn’t actually growl, not out loud, but Nico thought he could hear it in his head. “You’re making a mistake. This is a big deal. I want to ask Anne to write you a letter, and tonight is your chance to chat with her, make an impression.” He smiled again, his voice even more intimate as he caught the lapel of Nico’s blazer and rolled the corduroy between two fingers. “And we can have a productive conversation about getting your paper published in the meantime.”

“Nico’s too polite to say it,” Jadon said, and his voice had the brisk professionalism that coded as cop and was about as subtle as a slap, “but he’s dealing with some personal issues right now. He’s going to have to take a raincheck.”

For the first time, Meza looked at Jadon. He was shorter than the detective, but he managed to give the impression that he was looking down on him, his refined features alight with amusement. “And who are you? The boyfriend?”

“No. I’m a detective with the Metropolitan Police. And get your fucking hand off him.”

“Jadon!” Nico barked.

Meza opened his hand and released the jacket, the gesture expansive and demonstrative, the message clear: I’m not the one being unreasonable.

“Clearly I’ve interrupted something—”

“You have,” Jadon said. “Move along, sir.”

Meza stood a little straighter. His cheek creased when he smiled, and it made him look older, exposing the lines in his face. “This is a free country, Detective. Believe it or not. And we’re having a conversation in public. And I have every right to be here and to have this conversation.”

Jadon opened his mouth, but Nico managed to say first, more sharply, “Jadon.”

After several deep breaths, Jadon wrenched his gaze away from Meza. To Nico, in a low voice, he said, “We’re going.”

“Good God, Nico,” Meza said with a little laugh, “do you let your boyfriend talk to you like this?”

Nico’s gaze moved from Meza to Jadon and back to Meza. “I’m sorry, Dr. Meza. Today has been stressful, and neither of us is putting our best foot forward.”

“Let me guess.” Meza did that looking-down thing again, considering Jadon the way someone might have looked at a bug under a microscope. “Big, butch, aggressive. A closet case, I imagine. I think you can do better than that.”

This time, Jadon did make a sound—not a growl, but a harsh exhalation that sounded like a period at the end of a sentence. He turned, squaring up with Meza. His fists balled at his side.

“No, no, no—” Nico tried, grabbing Jadon’s wrist.

“Is there a problem here?”

The words came from a familiar voice, but Nico couldn’t place it until the security guard stepped into his line of sight. Heeley, the one with the hard mouth and the tawny eyes, still looking like he’d been poured into his uniform. He gave Jadon a long, assessing look. Then Meza. And last Nico.

“No,” Jadon said, and he gave a little shake, like he was loosening up tight muscles. “No problem.”

“Actually, I think there is,” Meza said. “This man claims to be a police officer, but I haven’t seen any proof. From what I could tell, he was coercing this young man into going to another location with him. It made me uncomfortable, and when I tried to intervene, this man threatened me.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Nico said. He gave a broken-mirror smile to Meza and then to Heeley. “It’s all a big misunderstanding. There’s no problem here.”

“Sir,” Heeley said, “I’d like to see your ID.”

Jadon drew out his badge holder and showed the badge to Heeley. As he did, Nico noticed two more figures approaching out of the corner of his eye. One was a woman, with a bob of wavy, blond hair. The other was a man who looked familiar, the wide face and the strong features. It took only another moment before Nico placed him as the guy from the coffee line, the one who had been flirting with him. Vic.

“What’s going on here?” the woman asked.

Vic laughed before anyone could answer, staring at Nico, and then said, “Holy shit, this is the underwear model?”

Meza didn’t do anything so gauche as gasp or clutch his pearls or even widen his eyes. But Nico was looking at him when the words landed, and he saw the shock run through Meza. The professor’s expression closed, and he put his hands in his pockets, his head turned away from Nico now.

“For fuck’s sake, Vic,” the woman said, but she was examining Nico too.

“Are we done here?” Jadon asked Heeley.

Heeley opened his mouth to answer, but Meza was the one who spoke. “I am.” And he turned on his heel and hurried off down the path.

“Not trying to cause a problem,” Heeley muttered. “It’s my job, you know.”

Jadon made a sound that could have meant anything, and Heeley retreated.

“So, this is why you’re looking so bushed,” Vic said with another laugh. His gaze skipped from Nico to Jadon, and he grinned. “Work all day, play all night.”

“Vic,” the woman said. “Fuck off. What was that all about?”

“A misunderstanding—” Jadon began.

Nico started walking, and when Jadon called his name, he didn’t look back. Quick steps. Almost running. He pushed into the darkened lobby of the dorm and climbed the stairs. Behind him, he heard the door swing open again, but he refused to look back.

He got into his room, shut the door, and locked it. He stared at the mess of clothes. He grabbed one of the suitcases and opened it and began tossing things inside.

The doorknob turned, and the door rattled in the frame. A moment later, a knock came.

Nico shoved more clothes into the suitcase. He closed it, started on the zipper, and it caught immediately.

“Nico,” Jadon said. “Will you please open the door?”

“No.” Nico yanked on the zipper again. It wouldn’t budge. He got a better grip and tried again, hauling on it this time. For an instant, it wouldn’t budge. And then it came free completely. Nico fell back, hard, still holding the zipper in one hand. His head hit the metal bed frame. The pain made tears come to his eyes, but it all felt distant. He threw away the broken zipper and got to his feet.

Jadon was still hammering on the door. “What happened? Are you okay? What—”

Nico threw open the door. Jadon stood there, his gaze automatically flicking past Nico, as though checking for a threat.

“Go. Away.”

“I’m sorry for how that went down—”

“Go away, Jadon. Go the fuck away. Are you hearing me?”

Jadon’s mouth tightened. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you—”

“Embarrassed me? You think I care about being embarrassed? I’ve had people talk about whether they want to pluck my crack right in front of me. I’ve had people tell me my balls are weird and ask if I can’t tuck them for the shoot. For fuck’s sake, one time, Emery got us kicked out of a movie theater because he insisted on seeing the ingredients label for the artificial butter. You tanked me, Jadon. That was it, right there. My career is over.”

It was strange, seeing it firsthand. How Jadon’s face relaxed. How his whole body said, without using a single word, Oh, that’s all?

When he spoke, his voice was more measured. “I’ll apologize to that professor, and I’m sorry, but Nico, there’s no way your career—”

“He knows I used to model!” The words came out more like a scream than a sentence, and Nico barely managed to wrestle his voice down again. “He knows, you stupid, selfish fuck. Because you had to go bragging to your fucking buddies about how you were fucking an underwear model.”

Jadon looked like Nico had slapped him. “I never—”

“And you know what’s worse than having your fucking cop buddies show up and blab in front of Dr. Meza? You know what’s even more humiliating? The fact that you stood there and talked for me, like I was some fucking braindead piece of meat, like I’m not capable of making my own decisions. How fucking dare you?”

“I was trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do. You were trying to mark your territory. You didn’t like that he was looking at me—”

Jadon’s normally composed face was ruddled with emotion. “No, I—”

“—and so you decided to do your fucking alpha-male routine and ruin my fucking career, even after I told you how important this seminar was.”

“Nico, why in the world would your career be over? I was trying to keep you safe.”

“That’s my choice! I get to decide what I’m going to do!”

Something in Jadon seemed to snap. His expression hardened. “No, you don’t! Because the fact that you think drinking wine and talking about old books and giving fuck-me eyes to a bunch of old men is a good idea right now tells me you have zero fucking sense of self-preservation!”

The silence between them had the sensation of falling.

Finally, in a trembling voice, Nico said, “Get out of my room.”

“No.”

“Get out!”

“No. Pack your bags. We’re going to a hotel—”

“I want you to leave.”

“—and we’re going to stay there until Emery can pick you up.”

“I can take care of—”

Jadon slapped the door. It was old, solid wood, and the clap sounded enormous. It startled Nico, and pins and needles ran through him. “You can take care of yourself? Be serious, Nico! You talk this big game about how independent you are, how important your career is. Fine. But this isn’t your career. This is someone hunting you like it’s a fucking game! I thought you understood that! You can’t take care of yourself, you’re—”

Jadon stopped himself, but Nico had heard the unspoken remainder of the sentence. “What?”

“A civilian.”

Nico shook his head. “I’m a what?”

Jadon didn’t answer. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running.

“I’m a grad student. No, that doesn’t sound right. I’m a kid. Except—” It was strange how easy it was to smile. “—I’m older than you. I’m a model. I’m a dumb underwear model. How did you put it? Giving fuck-me eyes to a bunch of old men.”

It only took a moment before Jadon seemed to find his footing again. “What do you want me to say? The way he looks at you, the smiles, the touching. He’s not talking about publishing your paper because he thinks you’re a breakout scholar, Nico. He thinks you’re pretty and you’ll do whatever he wants you to do as long as he can promise to help you.”

Nico laughed, and that felt easy too. “Fuck you, Jadon.”

“You want to be taken seriously as a scholar, right? That’s what you keep saying. But it’s hard to take you seriously when your big professional breakthrough comes because you gave an old creep what he wanted.”

“That’s life, okay? That’s how life is. People want things from you, and you can either play the game or not. It won’t be the first time I sucked a cock to get what I wanted, Jay. But then, I’m not perfect like you. I’m not Jadon Reck. I’m not Superman. I can’t run a million miles every morning and eat vegan power bowls and solve every case that lands on my desk by working twenty-two hours a day.”

“Pack your bag.”

“You know what’s sad? You’re a good guy, Jay. Or, most of the time. When you’re not being such a complete asshole.”

“Pack your bag, or I’ll pack it for you.”

“I’m going to do you a favor because you’ve tried hard to help me this week, and I appreciate that. I’m going to tell you the truth. The truth is, everybody who spends more than five minutes around you can see what you’re doing. How hard you work. The hours you keep. No sleep. Minimal food. Constant exercise. Everybody looks at you, and even though you think you’re doing a good job hiding it, they can tell you’re falling apart. You’re as bad as an alcoholic—you picked work as your drug of choice. And that’s sad, because I think for the most part, you’re a good guy, and you deserve to be happy. But you’re so scared of making the same mistake again that you’re killing yourself. You’re like a little kid who’s so afraid of the dark that you’ll burn the house down while you’re still in it just to have some light.”

Jadon wavered on his feet. One hand moved, barely more than a twitch, but in Nico’s mind it was like Jadon had reached for the jamb, like he was afraid he might fall. His lips moved, but it didn’t sound like his voice when he said, “Maybe you’re right. But at least I know who I am. I’m not so desperate for other people’s approval that I’ll be their little rent boy to feel like I belong.”

Drunken, Halloween laughter rose outside, muffled by the glass.

Nico shut the door slowly and thumbed the lock, and he listened until the sound of Jadon’s footsteps faded.