“That’s the problem. I need a breather.” He pulled up the fabric hood sticking out from under his leather jacket when first droplets of rain fell onto their faces.
Zane groaned but moved his palm to Roach’s thigh. That damn bastard was so firm everywhere. “You can’t help yourself around me.”
“Go on, keep mocking me, that will definitely help my boner go down.” Roach hid his face, taking deep breaths as he tightened his grip on the handlebars.
Zane stilled, gradually resting more of his weight against Roach. The rain grew denser, and as Zane covered his head too, the tapping all around turned into a whisper passing over the expanse of asphalt and concrete.
A building reminiscent of a traditional barn across from the library stood next to a pair of bungalows, its bright color like red packaging dropped into a puddle. It couldn’t disperse the overwhelming gray dominating the entirety of the scene. Neither could the hydrants or the lettering on the car repair shop. What was it with gray little towns and the color red anyway? Were there no other hues to choose from?
The nature surrounding the town had already given up for the year and filled the horizon with all shades of brown. The faded bits of lawns crisscrossing the public spaces between private properties, businesses, and informal parking lots were the only greenery left. Zane would’ve loved to drive a monster truck over them and leave tyre marks because this godforsaken town didn’t deserve to pretend it was normal.
Clouds lowered under the weight they carried, and even the girls playing soccer across the road ran off toward the school.
The town seemed empty. There were people around, but Zane only spotted them in cars or in the process of transferring from vehicle to their destination and back. Unless he was mistaken, the slab of asphalt that had led them here was the main artery of Grit, yet the traffic was minimal, considering it was the middle of the day.
“Why are you still here?” Zane asked, throwing his head back so the rain would cool his flushed cheeks.
Roach slowly got off the bike. “Why are you still here? You wanted to go to the library, and I brought you to the library.”
Zane slid off the back and stuffed his hands down his pockets, taking in the scenery. A tiny church with a single spire stood beyond the broad open space. Made of red brick, it was the single beacon of good taste around, but it stood out so much with its pristine walls and a flower garland hung at the front door, it was like a pretty brooch pinned to clothes that were in tatters and had faded from wear. Beyond it—a sheet metal building, likely a garage or store, but Zane couldn’t say for sure from afar. Scattered between were private homes in various states of disrepair, all seasoned with a generous helping of mud and damp.
Welcome to the Tiny Town, Midwest.
How the hell did he get stuck here?
“I’m not local. Don’t have an address or a library card, genius.”
Roach spread his arms, but his boner has in fact gone down. “Do I look like I have a library card?”
Heat buzzed in Zane’s face, and he frowned, adjusting his rain jacket. “That’s not my problem.”
That was why he hated libraries. So many fucking formalities and jumping through hoops just to get your hands on a piece of information you needed. The Internet was so much easier to access. Too bad he hadn’t found anything about the weird connection he now shared with Roach, and he’d searched things like:
We feel each other’s pain
Bad karma
Voodoo curse
There were other keywords, of course, but nothing sensible had come up, so here they were, at the freaking library.
“I’m not going in there on my own.” Roach shifted his weight from side to side. “Come on. It’s raining out here anyway.”
Zane frowned at the darkness on the horizon, where the rain was denser, and stepped toward the door without a word. He’d assumed Roach might be an asset, since he knew the town and all that, but his hopes were dwindling fast.
“Is big bad Roach afraid of the library? All those books, all those letters. Oh no.”
Roach pursed his lips and faced the building. “Fine. Soak your ass out here in the rain!”
A steady clatter of metal made Zane look back toward the church. A rusty shopping cart covered by a yellow plastic poncho approached from the other side of the street. Its load was piled so high, Zane didn’t spot the elderly lady pushing it forward at first, but once he saw the purple cocoon of hair and fabric on her head, and his gaze met the black lenses of her star-shaped glasses, his stomach revolted, twisting until nausea clutched at his throat.
He stepped back, but his heel hit the curb, and he fell on his ass, hissing at the impact. “Jesus fuck!”