Chapter 11

The baggage claim was currently in one of its two settings: full chaos. Bradley walked past a few in the other state—utterly deserted—and then past two also cluttered with people before he got to Lance’s. He hung back for a while, letting people leave, hands shoved in his pockets. Lance complained when he was too clingy, anyway, so he waited for Lance to exit the group of loud families and sour professionals.

When Lance appeared, he wasn’t alone. Bradley almost misunderstood the fact that the person next to him was with him—until he grabbed Lance’s hand. More people exiting the baggage claim pushed past him, but long seconds stretched out as Bradley watched.

There was Lance, clean shaven, short blond hair, white skin somehow more tanned than when he’d left. And he was smiling—smiling—at the man next to him, taller than Bradley, paler than Lance, well-dressed in dull-hued solids. Bradley blinked. Lance was smiling at this man like he hadn’t smiled at Bradley in a long, long time.