Page 30 of Chapel at Ender’s Ridge (Ender’s Calling #1)

She eyed them under grey hair frizzing from her temples and slammed one key back under the counter.

The chandelier hanging from the white-washed rafters above turned her hair to a washed-out copper tone much warmer than her words.

“I only got one room worth what you gave me. Most times folks coming from back East rent it.”

“Mr. Lane here is from Boston,” Decker said pleasantly. “As long as it has a tub we’ll take it.”

“Suit yourself. Up the stairs, the one at the end of the hall. The cook might have some leftovers if you’re hungry and I’ll have Maudie fill the bath.”

“Much thanks, Miss McKinney.” Decker jerked his head towards the attached room where the faint smell of spiced soup lingered. “I’ll catch up.”

Laurie swung his carpet bag over his shoulder, glancing at Decker once more before following his nose to the other room.

Miss McKinney propped one hand on the thick brown plaid bustled at her hip, eyes glinting with suspicion at his willingness to talk. “What’s he done now?”

“A plague came through Ender’s Ridge. McKinney was the first to go,” Decker said quietly.

Her deeply lined forehead wrinkled even further. “You came all this way to tell me my good-for-nothin’ brother died? Wasted a trip.”

“There’s no one to take over the mercantile.

It’s just an ordinary shop without him. There’s money to be made, Miss McKinney—and people to help you make it.

” Preying on greed wasn’t a tactic Decker often used, but for her, it might work to renew some faith in town.

Even if they found the cause of the plagues and made their town right again, too many shops and homes were abandoned.

Don’t want to live in a ghost town.

She sniffed, tapping gnarled fingertips against the counter before she asked, “Did you at least give him a proper burial?”

At least she had one caring bone. “His grave is marked, like the others we couldn’t save.”

She made an unimpressed sound. “Enjoy your room, Mr. Belmont.”

The only thing he could do was plant the seed to continue her brother’s work. He didn’t blame her if she continued to work here, but she belonged with them, where snide comments and dismissive looks were mostly a thing of the past.

Retrieving Laurie, who muttered a quick apology as he drank down the rest of his cold soup, they traipsed up the stairs to their room. Someone coughed behind the brass numbers of the sixth door down the hall as they passed it.

“Miss McKinney…the same as McKinney’s Mercantile?” Laurie asked as he fumbled with the key, his fingers still stiff and red from the cold.

Decker took the key from him after two failed attempts, fitting it into the lock with one hand, the other steadying his saddlebags slung around his shoulders. “The siblings couldn’t agree on where to put down roots. McKinney tried his hand at the mercantile and she ended up here, minding the inn.”

The door swung open to a much nicer room than anything he offered at the Goose . Striped wallpaper patterned the room in a cozy brown, and a blue gas lamp flickered on the nightstand next to the single bed. Flames licked at thick logs in the fireplace and chased away the chill in the air.

Laurie slipped off his soggy shoes and left damp footprints as he padded around the thick red rug.

He draped his socks over the grate in front of the coals and held his hands out, sighing in relief.

“They would rather pretend to be humans and live among those who hate them, than live as themselves in Ender’s Ridge? ”

“McKinney was happy there, and she is content here.” In his opinion, Miss McKinney was wrong to hide herself here. Better to know who you were and find others like you than try to hide.

Steam curled from the large copper bath in front of the fireplace, and Laurie breathed it in as he trailed a hand through the bathwater. He’d regained color in his face, his lips rose-bitten and cheeks flushed.

Decker slung his saddlebags along the wall and searched through one before he pulled out his flask.

Wedging the heel of his boot against the toe, he slipped them off.

His canvas pants scraped along his skin and left puddles behind him as he joined Laurie to set his boots with a heavy thump in front of the fire.

Laurie’s arms shook as he shivered, and he ran his hands over them as he glanced sideways at Decker. “You don’t feel the cold?”

“Sometimes I can in the winter, when your breath freezes in your throat.” The fire crackled, searing through his wet clothes. “I miss the heat of summer.”

“Do you remember much of how you were before?” Laurie’s question came as he worked down the buttons of his shirt.

Decker took a slow drink as his eyes traced over the dips of Laurie’s back when he turned. The faintest trace of muscles shifted under tanned skin as he carefully arranged his shirt over a hook to dry near the fire.

He’d seen Laurie shirtless before. But this was different. Like he wanted him to see, instead of hastily grabbing the nearest thing to make himself look like a proper Boston preacher.

Decker cleared his throat with another swig from his flask and undid the wooden buttons of his own shirt.

“I remember how the sun felt before it burned.” A bed creaked from next door, and he spoke more softly. “Eating a home-cooked meal instead of having to hunt and take a life.”

Nothing was as he remembered—his memories were fantasy, a foggy, idealized version he’d practiced so often over the years he swore they were truth.

Perhaps his memories held some truth, but they were veiled by time and the craving for a life he could never have back instead of any real recollection of what things were like.

Suspenders rattling against the wrought-iron end of the bed brought him back to the present as Laurie hung his pants up to dry.

Lean legs, a shade paler than the rest of him, bore the marks of working on the chapel; healed abrasions scraped through thin cotton and the sturdy stance of someone who’d developed their balance on a slanted roof.

Fading bruises marked his knees, mottled yellow and green against the off-white of his underthings brushing against the mid of his thighs.

If anyone craned their neck from the dark street and glanced through the sliver of curtains, they’d see two men, indecently close in a state of undress.

Even white men weren’t absolved from scrutiny of this regard .

“This could be scandalous.” Decker undid his last button and slipped out of his shirt. It hung neatly off the brass hooks like a weeping ghost better suited to roaming the halls.

Laurie’s cheeks flushed again and his hand tapped against his thigh like he wanted to cover himself. “You said we only needed one room.”

Decker looked at him. Over the square of his shoulders and the set of his jaw, trailing down the sandy hair dipping from his navel. Back up to his eyes as they flicked away.

Ashamed like Adam.

“Couldn’t break into the church if you were frozen solid.”

Warming him up wasn’t the only reason. Decker had settled into the dance between them quite naturally, and he enjoyed how Laurie couldn’t keep his eyes off him, basked in the knowledge that their worlds narrowed when they were together.

Part of him needed to push the last few days to the back of his mind.

Decker eased off his wet pants. Draped the heavy canvas over the grate.

Laurie stilled. His gaze flicked to the steaming tub, only half-filled. Fingers toyed with the corded edge of his underthings, and slowly, slowly, he slipped them to the floor.

Laurie stepped in, wincing at the warmth, and sunk down until the water lapped at the tense curve of his shoulders. Only then did he finally catch Decker’s eye, and his voice came out in a breathless rush. “Are you going to join me?”