“Bad news,” I said, standing from the chair and grabbing the room key off the dresser. “We’re stuck here another day.”
“Guess we’ll need to make it a fun one, then.” Reed grinned up at me. “It’s Saturday, so we don’t have to work. Might as well relax and enjoy each other’s company. It’s like a mini vacation.”
“Do you always look on the bright side?” I asked as we left the room.
“I try to. I’m a firm believer that you get back what you send out into the universe. So, if you’re bitter and pessimistic, that’s the kind of energy you’ll get in return. If that makes sense.”
“It does, actually.” A smile tugged at my lips as I peered down at him. “It also explains how you cursed us with this damn blizzard.”
Reed bumped his shoulder to mine and laughed. “I’ll never do it again, okay?” When we reached the staircase, he turned to me. “You have to admit, though, this trip hasn’t been all bad.”
A ray of sun broke through the white sky and shone on him through the multitude of windows.
“No, it hasn’t,” I said and swallowed the tightness in my throat. I would’ve trekked through miles of snow just to see the smile he was giving me now.
Oblivious to the chaotic struggle going on inside me, Reed turned and went down the stairs, sliding his hand along the railing. I released a long breath and followed him. Breakfast was the same as the morning before, though there were different pastries and muffins to choose from. After what Cole had told us, I knew Ian had made them.
“This is the best lemon muffin I’ve ever had,” Reed said as we sat at our same table beside the window. “You think Ian would give me his recipe?”
“You can always ask.”
“Nah,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I can cook, but I’m an awful baker. I’d probably end up accidentally summoning a demon instead.”
I chuckled before taking a sip of coffee. Being around Reed was refreshing. It was hard to believe we’d worked together for a year without ever talking like this. I had definitely missed out on his quick wit and charm.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, concern wrinkling his brow.
“Yes. Why?”
“Just didn’t know if you were feeling under the weather because of last night.” Reed traced the rim of his coffee mug as he stared at the snowy courtyard. “You were shivering like crazy, and your skin was ice-cold. I held it together well, I think, but it scared me.”
He was worried about me? My heart warmed at the thought.
“I feel great,” I answered. “Someone’s body temperature is like a furnace, so I warmed up in no time.”
“So, you’re not mad?” Reed nibbled his bottom lip as his hazel eyes shifted back to me.
“No. I was being stubborn by sleeping on the cot when it was that cold. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if we slept together.” Realizing how wrong it sounded out loud, I quickly clarified, “Sleeping in the same bed, I mean. Not… sleeping together.”
Humor danced in his eyes. “Well, I don’t mind if we sleep together again tonight.” He sipped his coffee and placed it back on the table. “For warmth, of course.”
My cock twitched, and it was a little hard to breathe for a second. I cleared my throat and looked anywhere but at him.
“I used to be intimidated by you,” Reed said, drawing my attention again.
“Really?”
He nodded. “You’re always so serious and distant. Cold, even. You never said please or thank you, and you made it clear that you had no desire to get to know me. For the first three months working for you, I felt like I was walking on eggshells whenever you were around. I was terrified of saying something wrong or screwing up.”
Had I really been that awful to him?
“I’m sorry, Reed. I never meant to—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, flicking his hand dismissively. “I eventually learned that’s how you are. To everyone, not just me. You kinda remind me of Quinn. He has a hard time opening up to people, and he can seem like an ass sometimes. When really, he just expresses himself differently. Once I learned that, it got easier. Now, because of this trip, I feel like I’ve gotten to see another side of you, one you might not show to many people.”
“You’re observant.” I was surprised by the steadiness of my voice. Reed had hit the nail on the head. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. When I was younger, I was spirited, outgoing, and always laughing. I was even the first-string quarterback on our football team and kind of a class clown.”
“No way,” Reed said, leaning forward on the table, hands wrapped around his steaming mug. His silver ring caught the light. “I can’t imagine you as a class clown. Or a quarterback for that matter.”
His eyes said something else, though: What happened to change you?
“Everything changed when my dad got sick,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “A brain tumor. We found out about it when he was rushed to the ER because of a bad seizure, and not even six months later, he was gone. I was sixteen.”
Reed’s eyes glistened. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. What did you do after he died?”
“Quit the football team and got a job,” I answered. “We never had much money growing up, and with the medical bills stacked up on top of losing my dad’s income, it hit us hard. Really hard. So, I stepped up and helped, giving my mom every penny of my paycheck. I guess I changed around that time. Grew up.” I expelled a sigh. “Regina talked me into going to college after graduation. I didn’t think I should go, but she pushed me, saying I was too smart not to.”
“We have a lot in common.” Reed dropped his gaze to his ring, and he slowly twisted it on his finger. “My dad wasn’t in the picture much. He was constantly in and out of jail for dealing drugs, and my mom was a junkie, shooting up whatever she could get her hands on. She overdosed when I was five. I guess I was forced to grow up fast too. There were so many days and nights when I was alone because Dad was crashing at a drug house or too strung out to take care of me.”
Jesus Christ.
“That brought the mood down, didn’t it?” Reed asked before releasing a shaky laugh.
“That’s what you meant when you said you didn’t have an easy childhood either,” I said as everything clicked together.
“Yeah.” Though grief lingered in his eyes, he smiled at me. “You and me are like the Lost Boys, Daniel. We’ve been through a lot, maybe gotten lost along the way, but one day we’ll find our way home.”
His words caused a lump in my throat, and I swallowed it back down.
“Do not tell me you don’t know who the Lost Boys are,” Reed said, pointing a finger at me. “Peter Pan is my favorite fairy tale, and I swear to god I will—”
“Chill,” I interrupted with a light laugh. “I know Peter Pan. I’ve read the book several times.”
Reed’s eyes narrowed. “I guess that works. But you have to watch the cartoon one day too.”
“I don’t watch much TV,” I said, fighting a smile when he shot me a wide-eyed look. “It doesn’t hold my attention.”