Chapter 43

The last note ebbed out, and Arlo looked at him, tilting his head to the side—birdlike. “Are you okay?”

“I should leave.”

Arlo widened his eyes. “Okay.” His face turned into a blank mask and Nash wanted to reach out, but who knew what he’d do—claw at him, bite him, fuck him. The fever hadn’t settled down, the beast was still controlling his mind. The release had taken the edge off, no doubt about it, but it was only a matter of time. Nash should leave while he had the sanity to do so.

“Your car is at Gilbert’s.”

Arlo’s heart drummed louder than the water from the shower. “Thanks.” The voice was flat—not hurt, not angry, not anything, just…dull. It stung worse than anger would have.

“Yeah…so…” Nash ran a hand over his hair. “See you around.” Unless he happened to kill himself, or a town, or his workmates. He curled his hand into a fist and turned to leave. He had to call in sick, he couldn’t kill the poor fuckers slaving away at the brewery.