“I….”

“Benji, your father was trying to do what’s right. Now it’s up to you.” “Fuck,” I say, closing my eyes.

I ask Mom to watch the store, telling her I need a day off again. She averts her

eyes from Cal standing right next to me. She says I seem to be taking quite a bit of time off lately. I remind her that out of the last three years, any time off I took was because she forced me to. She huffs a bit at that then acquiesces. She doesn’t know Abe will be paying her a visit at the store to let her know he also knows about Cal, and to try and talk her down from whatever ledge she seems to be standing on. It’s an ambush, I know, but I don’t know how else to go about it. It’s starting to feel like I’m juggling too many things at once, and soon everything will come crashing down.

I feel absurd heading to the next town over, like I’m some kind of spy on my way to a covert drop. The whole thing is made a tad bit more ridiculous when Cal tells me in a very serious voice that he’s been watching TV in the back office at the store and that anytime spies get together, they wear sunglasses. He asks if I’ll buy him a pair of sunglasses because he still doesn’t have any money. The flush that rises up his neck while he says this is enough to melt the ice that has surrounded my heart since hanging up the phone with Corwin. I take him out and buy him sunglasses. He makes me buy a pair for myself as well, the same as his. We look like idiots.

Cal drives because I don’t think I can focus enough. Though I do admit to going out of my way to get that damn beaming smile he gives me when he’s tickled to no end. Driving the Ford inspires it. Green clover marshmallows do too. And I seem to be mashed up in there as well, because there are times he’ll look at me and that smile just comes out of nowhere, curving his lips as his eyes grow bright and warm, threatening to knock me on my ass. I thought about asking him to stay in Roseland, but even as the words came out of my mouth, he began to growl at me like some kind of feral cat and I left it alone.

We are quiet most of the way into Oakland, a small town about halfway between Roseland and Eugene. This leads us down the Old Forest Highway before hitting I10, directly past mile marker seventy-seven. This, of course, causes my pulse to quicken as my heart begins to race. Before we round that last curve, Cal pulls me across the bench seat until I’m nestled up against him with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my face in his neck. I shake for a time, breathing him in, and when I open my eyes again, we are already on the main highway, sunglasses and all.

“Benji?” a rough voice says. I turn in the booth I sit in at the local diner, almost

knocking over the cup of coffee I have yet to touch. Corwin stands next to the booth, his suit slightly wrinkled, his dark hair windblown and all over the place. He looks like I remember, disheveled but still with an air of authority around him. He slides off his mirror shades and I see his eyes are a chocolate brown, but they still look slightly cold. “Agent,” I allow.

He narrows his eyes as he glances over at Cal. “Who is this?” Cal stands, his stance tense. He is bigger than Corwin, both height-wise and around. “I’m with Benji. He’s mine. You will not hurt him.”

Corwin doesn’t look intimidated in the slightest. “I’m not here to hurt him,” he says, keeping his voice even. “I’m pretty sure you can stand down, big guy, before you hurt yourself.”

I groan and pull on Cal’s hand, forcing him to slide into the booth next to me. He crowds me up against the wall of the diner. I take in a deep breath and smell earth. It calms me, at least a bit. He takes my hand and I clutch at him, pulling our joined hands down to my lap so Corwin can’t see. I’m not worried about Corwin’s opinion of us, but we’re in a place that is not our home. I don’t want people to turn hostile.

Corwin sits across the table, folds his glasses, then puts them in a pocket in his suit jacket. He cracks his knuckles and glances between the two of us before focusing on me. “I was glad to get your call, kid. Didn’t think anything would come of it.”

“Why did you stop in Roseland that day?” I ask, curious.

A strange look comes over Corwin’s face. It almost looks like he’s embarrassed. He cracks his knuckles again and sighs. “You know what? I don’t know if I can answer that.”

My eyes widen as I lean forward. “Like, it’s top secret or something?” I almost consider looking around to see if there are any spies listening in. I still have my sunglasses in my pocket. Should I put them back on?

He laughs. “No, kid. Not anything like that. It just sounds… weird.” He pauses as a waitress comes over and sets another cup of coffee on the table. He lifts the cup and drinks it black.

Cal makes a face. “I don’t see how you guys can drink that. I told Benji I wouldn’t like it and I didn’t. It’s gross.” He scowls as he takes a drink of his juice as if to prove his point.

“It puts hair on your chest,” Corwin tells him.

“Already got it,” Cal says proudly, and I have to grab his shirt before he pulls it up to show Corwin just how much hair he has. Corwin looks at the two of us like we’re the oddest things he’s laid his eyes on. If only he knew what weird really is, I think. Hell, he’s the FBI. They probably know everything about angels already. And aliens.

“Why was it weird?” I ask Corwin as Cal grabs my hand again.

Corwin has to drag his eyes away from Cal. Another one under his spell, I think. “Huh?” Corwin says.

“Why was it weird?”

He blushes again. “It sounds a little crazy.”

“I know crazy, trust me.”

Cal grins at me.

Corwin watches me for a moment then

says, “For some reason, I believe that. I, uh… okay. Look. I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in psychics or mystics or anything weird like that.”

“There goes my whole notion of the X-Files,” I mutter.

He ignores me. “But I do believe that people can have hunches, or feelings… you know, that something is… off. I don’t think it’s any kind of sixth sense or anything like that. To be in my line of work, though, you almost have to have it. It’s saved me a few times, whether or not I could admit it at the time.” He looks at me defiantly, like he expects me to make fun of him. I keep my face passive.

Tags: T.J. Klune Romance
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