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Hello to an unexpected but possible future?

Quinn kept hinting that he was interested in some kind of relationship. (Or was that just his way of flirting?) And Andy… He wanted to believe—could see that Quinnhadchanged over the years. But was it possible for someone who had been as emotionally scarred as Quinn to genuinely love anyone? Or maybegenuinely lovewasn’t fair; it wasn’t for Andy to judgehow deep Quinn’s feelings ran. It was just that after Marcus, Andy needed to be able to trust that—Well, at theveryleast, he needed to be able to trust that Quinn wouldn’t walk away again without word or warning.

Then again, maybe Andy was overthinking and it had just been great sex between two guys desperately in need of getting laid. Which, in the greater scheme of things, wasn’t a bad thing.

He cleared his throat. “One room’s fine.”

Quinn glanced at him, their gazes locked, and Quinn smiled a slow, surprised smile.

Andy was thinking they would figure out their plan of attack for that evening, but Quinn said their first priority was food and sleep.

“Sleep?” Andy repeated, and Quinn laughed at his expression.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

“No. Well, yes, but no. Not at the moment. I just mean, how the hell can you sleep with everything going on?”

“Are you saying you aren’t tired?”

Now that Quinn mentioned it, Andy was bone weary. Somehow, they’d spent most of the night before talking, despite periodically reminding each other they needed to sleep. Andy had spoken about his work at the Worley Foundation and the painful unraveling of his relationship with Marcus. Quinn had talked a little about Jim, a lot about his travels, and not at all about his actual job. Whatever he had really been doing during those years, it was obvious he’d been in his element.

Hearing Quinn’s edited account of his life, Andy could even sort of understand why everything that had gone before must have seemed increasingly distant and dreamlike. Yet it stillhurt when Quinn casually mentioned thinking of Andy any time he stepped inside a museum.

“You didn’t ever think of maybe phoning just to say hey?”

There must have been something in his tone because Quinn was quiet for a moment. He said finally, “I thought about it all the time. At first.”

“Why didn’t you? You had to know—” He managed to cut it off, but he’d still probably said too much.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

There was no humor in Quinn’s laugh. “You name it. Afraid the old man might have filed assault charges. Afraid you’d know I was a total psycho when you heard I’d nearly killed him.” He sighed. “Afraid if I talked to you, I’d lose my nerve and come home.”

Andy’s heart ached. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was all ancient history.

In the darkness he saw the Cheshire cat glimmer of Quinn’s smile. “I used to look you up now and then. Just to see how you were. And it was obvious you were great. That everything had gone according to plan.”

It felt like an arrow through the heart, but Andy managed a light, “Looked me up how? Facebook?”

“Sometimes. Your museum has a decent social-media profile. That’s probably you, I bet. Sometimes…well, I wasn’t stalking you. I just liked knowing you were still out there, that life was good for you.”

That was the closest Andy had come to crying over Quinn in a long time.

So yeah, not much sleep the night before, and he couldn’t imagine relaxing enough to sleep now.

But as usual, Quinn had a different idea. “We have to stay sharp. We have to stay strong. That means being fueled and rested.”

That sounded straight out of the Company training manual, but okay. Presumably Quinn knew what he was talking about.

In fact, Andy did feel better after a hot shower, and though he’d been convinced he wasn’t hungry, when they went downstairs to the hotel restaurant for a late lunch, he was able to do justice to his steak burger.

“I’m worried about what happens if we can’t get proof neither of us was involved in Marcus’s murder,” he admitted as they were finishing up their meals. “Even if we’re able to connect the break-ins at Time in a Bottle to the Whittakers and Sirius and, maybe, this Paul Robie, I think Chief Millard is going to try and make a case that Marcus’s death is separate.”

“I think you’re right.” Quinn ate his final french fry.

Andy tipped his head, studying him. “Shouldn’t you be more worried?”