Over dinner, Matt told Vic, “I got a call today.”
From across the dining room table, Vic looked up, distrust instantly clouding his features. Since he’d come home from work, they hadn’t said two words to each other—Matt could feel his lover prodding the edges of his mind, feeling him out, but he wasn’t quite ready to let him in yet. He wanted Vic to be the one to tell him about the stunt that morning; he didn’t want to have to bring it up. But every minute that passed only made him madder, and he wanted Vic to figure out why. Without any help from him. The moment he’d felt his lover’s consciousness brush over his as Vic approached their apartment, Matt had clamped down his thoughts. With a mental sigh, Vic had asked, ::Matty, what’s going on?::
His only response was, ::You figure it ou
