“I don’t know,” Grace pondered. “I’ve never topped.”
Josh and Stirling both stopped their fiddling and stared at him.
“What?”
At that moment Hunter walked in, and Grace swung his legs out and rolled off the bed so he could stand up and smile at him.
Hunter looked back and forth from Grace’s smile to Josh’s and Stirling’s horrified expressions. “Do I want to know?” he asked Josh.
“I have a feeling you will eventually,” Josh told him, still looking dazed. Then he glowered at Grace. “But we will not bring it up now. Do you understand me?”
Grace crossed his arms. “Killjoy.”
Hunter let out a little huff of air. “Are you going to tell me what happened and why we’re suddenly in the Times Square instead of the Westin?” He looked around, noting the cotton comforters and clean appointments. “Not that this is bad.” He went to the closet and slid off his duster, looking to where Grace was still standing, because Grace hadn’t thought of anything better to do. “Thanks,” he said, noticing his coat, and then Grace had something better to do, which was smile stupidly at him.
Grace had to work hard to be thoughtful—it was nice when it was appreciated.
“We were bugged,” Stirling said, apparently unfazed by the idea that Grace hadn’t topped. But then, Stirling had told Grace in a moment of candor that he hadn’t anythinged, so Grace figured it was all sorts of talking about visiting exotic places to Stirling, No, I haven’t been to Narnia either. Have you been in some guy’s ass?
Hunter was still on the being-bugged thing, though. “For how long?” he asked, eyes flicking unhappily to Grace.
“Not that long,” Josh said dryly. “You literally caught Jenkins after he’d installed the feed. We just wanted a good night’s sleep, so we moved here, since our plane takes off early. Did you see him leave, by the way?”
Hunter shuddered. “In a manner of speaking,” he muttered, and they all looked at him.
“I do not like the sound of that,” Josh observed, with all the passion of a clinician diagnosing gas.
Hunter sat down on the edge of the bed Grace had vacated. “I heard a boat leaving in the general direction our guy had disappeared, so went in to check it out.” He shook his head. “Let’s say Jenkins was there, but he was no longer with us.”
It took about five seconds for Grace to get it. Five, four, three, two, one—
“He was dead?” Grace burst out, and Josh literally tackled him and put a hand over his mouth.
“Bite me and I’ll shave your head,” he muttered into Grace’s ear. “Now can we do this quietly, please? We’d like to make it harder to hear what we’re saying, not easier.”
Grace nodded, and Josh backed off. “He was dead?” Grace asked, his voice squeaking.
Hunter gave him a kind look. “Yes, Grace. He was dead. His body floated under the pier before I could sound the alarm.”
“Did anybody see you?” Josh asked, concerned.
“No.” Hunter sighed and then smiled, tired. “But good news…. The harbormaster wasn’t in his kiosk. I got a glance at the berth manifest. There were only two berths empty. If we can do a rundown of those names, we might have some people to check out.”
“Awesome.” Josh yawned. “I’ll send them to Mom and the Dads and see if they can look stuff up.”
“Not me?” Stirling sounded hurt.
“You’ve got first shift of watching our cameras, buddy. I’m assuming you’re going to want a nap after that.”
Out of nowhere, Stirling let out a yawn that practically swallowed his head, and Josh laughed.
“Okay, I’ll mind the cameras. You nap. Early night, guys. I hope that’s okay.”
Grace peered at Josh closely for a moment, thinking he looked like he used to when they were pulling a job during AP Exams and play rehearsal, all at the same time—peaked and too pale and like the shadows under his eyes were growing caves. Well, it had been a big couple of days. Josh would get color soon. If Vancouver had more sun, he’d be pink.
Still distracted by Josh’s paleness, Grace grunted and shucked off his trackies and Hunter’s hoodie, which he folded up together and stacked on top of the suitcase before sliding into the bed in his T-shirt and socks.
“Fine,” he muttered, taking his phone from the charger and pulling up a game.
“Got any movies on that?” Hunter asked, and Grace nodded, glaring at him suspiciously. “I’m going to go shower. Pull up something not sucky and we can watch it.” A faint smile appeared on his lean mouth. “You willing to let me share your earbuds?”
And it hit Grace then—Josh might be right. This was the sort of thing Grace had been thinking about on the plane but had been too afraid to ask for.
“Yeah,” he said, his smile getting wider by the second.
Hunter winked and disappeared into the bathroom with a change of clothes, and when he came back, that lean body slid in behind Grace’s, and he snuggled backward. Hunter’s arm came around his chest, and Hunter rested his chin on Grace’s shoulder while together they watched an episode of Stranger Things. About fifteen minutes in, Grace thought, I can hear him breathing in my ear. I’ll never be able to sleep like this.
He didn’t remember the next part of the show, though, because he’d fallen asleep.
“SO?” TABITHA asked two days later. “What did you guys find out?”
“Didn’t you talk to your grandfather?” Grace asked, reluctant to come out of the place he’d been. They’d finished rehearsal, and the rest of the cast had gone home. Grace, lulled by the familiar smell of the wooden flooring and dancer’s sweat, had let his mind wander.
He’d slept like a baby that night in the hotel. His seat had been next to Josh on the plane, and he’d watched, surreptitiously, as Hunter read his spy novel across the aisle with only the occasional wink in Grace’s direction to show he knew Grace was watching him.
They’d arrived in Chicago in the late afternoon, and Danny and Felix had fed them and partially debriefed them and then let everybody go to bed because they were beat.
Hunter had shown up in Grace’s room, uninvited, and had slid in behind him in the queen-sized bed Grace had slept in during high school. It wasn’t a bad room—Julia had done it art deco style, with broad lines and bold colors. It didn’t look like a little kid slept there, and the dorm Grace had shared with Josh hadn’t been bad either.
He was safe here.
And when Hunter had wrapped his arms around Grace’s shoulders, he’d felt even safer.
And now, after an exhaustive seven-hour rehearsal for the upcoming show, Grace was hungry and aching pleasantly and wondering if the family would be discussing what happened in Vancouver without him.
And if Hunter was going to do that thing they’d done in Vancouver in the hotel room alone again.
“I didn’t want to bother him,” Tabitha said, sounding sad. “He’s not young, Grace. He was beat last night, and I left him to sleep in this morning.”
Artur had shown up for the last two hours of the seven-hour rehearsal, putting his seal of approval—or his scowl of “more practice!”—on every dancer in the show. He’d disappeared to the office across the hall to finalize the venue and the ticket sales for the debut in two weeks.