Chapter 25

When Mitch slid into Craig’s car, he was so nervous he swore he was trembling. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, and he couldn’t look at Craig.

But Craig didn’t start the car. He sat there, hands fiddling with the keys in his lap. He cleared his throat and looked out the front window. Mitch could hardly breathe, the tension was so thick. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“I meant what I said, Mitchell. You could come to California and write.” His rough voice filled the car.

Mitch breathed in sharply. He wasn’t expecting that. “Why?”

“Why?” Craig repeated.

“Why, Craig?” Mitch whispered.

Craig was quiet, his breathing echoing in the small car. Mitch reached over and touched Craig’s thigh with his fingertips.

Craig turned to face him, grabbed Mitch’s hand, and pulled it to his chest, pressing it palm-down against his heart. “Do you feel that?” His voice was gravelly and the vibrations shot from his chest through to Mitchell’s hand and up his arm.