Page 76 of Hounded

I shrugged. The pain had been fleeting and was gone long before we made it upstairs.

Indy dug into the clothes in earnest, and I took a seat on the edge of Sully’s bed. The top cover was an old quilt that I absently brushed my fingers across. The textures of the various fabrics and the pattern of the top stitching engaged my interest while Indy rifled the wardrobe. My sister had a quilt like this. She made it with our mother from scraps of outgrown clothing and flour sacks. They wrapped her in it when she died, something soft to cushion her final rest.

Indy paused his search and rotated to face me. “You called me your boyfriend,” he said.

I pinched a square of tufted chenille between my thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth.

“Was that…” His forehead creased. “Something else you shouldn’t have said?”

The weight of his question sank in my gut as I looked at him. Concern overlaid his button nose and long-lashed eyes, and I remembered the way he’d smiled while talking to Evander. The way he sometimes smiled at me.

“Did it bother you?” I asked.

He hacked an awkward cough before reaching into thecloset once more. “It definitely didn’tbotherme.” He pulled out a crocheted shirt and held it out for inspection. “I think I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” When he laughed, it seemed strained. Possibly pained, and I frowned.

He glanced over again, his expression uncertain. “I really like you, Loren,” he said, then added emphatically, “Really.”

I held his gaze, knowing fully well he wanted more from me but finding myself unable to give it. It was all I could do to drive my voice above a whisper as I replied, “I like you, too, Indy.”

The confession was enough to satisfy him, and he shimmied out of his tulle skirt, leaving himself bare-bodied except for the pair of lace panties the same hot pink as his eyeshadow. The gemstone in his belly button ring sparkled as he struck a pose, holding a pair of gray harem pants along with the cream crocheted shirt in front of his chest.

“What about the outfit? Do welikethis?” he asked with teasing emphasis.

My lips quirked. “It’s cute.”

You’re cute, I mused. Like a doll. I’d called him that for decades, since the first time I’d caught him playing dress up in our apartment. He’d looked so pretty in that dress, so delicate and fragile. Always a precious thing to me.

Indy pulled the top over his head and arms, then stepped into the pants. They hung loose around his legs and cuffed at his ankles, and he smoothed his hands down the sides of them three times before frowningdissatisfaction. He stripped out of them with ease and tossed them onto the mattress beside me, then spun toward the closet to resume his search.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled in the recesses of the wardrobe. “‘Boyfriend’ is kind of a loaded term, don’t you think?” He hung his head out long enough to check my expression, and I hoped he didn’t notice my gaze wandering up his bare legs toward those lower back dimples I liked so much.

“The guy was being an ass,” I replied. “I wanted him to know you were with me. Make him regret giving you a hard time.”

Indy paused with a dip-dyed skirt tucked under his arm. His lips twisted. “I’m not with you, though.”

The pain was back. I felt it, too. He may have had a vague sense of longing, but mine was terribly specific. I wanted a connection that took years to develop. I craved intimacy I had yet to earn. It would take work in this lifetime, and the next, and the next… and I was so tired.

“But maybe I couldleavewith you,” Indy said in a softer voice, almost sultry.

For once, my answer came before thought. “Sure.”

Indy’s face paled. “Seriously?” I watched him without replying until he pressed, “You know what I mean, right? Like, not just a ride home…”

Standing, I pulled my truck keys from my pocket. “I know what you mean.”

Without further confirmation, Indy shook out the skirt and wrapped it around his waist, then tied it so quickly it was a miracle it held. Darting across the room, he almost tripped over his combat boots in his haste topull them on.

I came over and took his arm to hold him steady while he fumbled with his bootlaces. He looked at my hand supporting him, then blushed his way through the double knot.

Straightening, he pushed the spill of blue-green curls off his forehead. “So, um… my place or yours?”

“Yours,” I answered. “Mine’s pretty cramped.”

Considering the front seat of the Chevy was my entire living space, that was a massive understatement. We could make it work, though. Had before, but our bed was a safer bet.

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