Chapter 18
It’s colder than Alan thought it’d be outside. He hurries to his car, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the slight wind blowing down the quiet street. When he gets in, he cranks the heat even though all that comes out of the register is frigid air. Suddenly he wonders what the hell he’s doing, leaving Jim’s warm bed for his own empty bedroom. What kind of i***t is he?
Call him. He’ll come. I can tell Brooks his car broke down, he slept in the guest room, something. Just don’t leave him now. We had a great evening, why does it have to end already?
He fingers his phone, debating. He pictures Jim throwing on a coat and racing downstairs in his undies and nothing else. Hopping into Alan’s car, breathless, the night’s chill clinging to him like cologne.
He would pro
