Page 86 of Map of Pain

Itwasn’tuntil Adam mentioned his physical therapy routine that the mood shifted.

“Lost mine in a car accident,”Adam said matter-of-factly, lifting his pant leg to reveal the metal joint where an ankle should have been.“Physical therapywashell, but the phantom pain was worse.”

“How long did that last?”Nick asked.

“Phantom pain? Still happens sometimes. Stress makes it worse.”Adam’s expression grew thoughtful.“The pills helped at first, but...”

“But then you need more of them,”Nick finished quietly, recognizing the path Adamwasdescribing.“And more after that.”

“Yeah.”Adam’s voice carried the weight of shared understanding.

Nick felt the knot in his stomach loosen—the relief of being understood without having to explain.“Minewasafter a car accident too. Shattered femur, multiple surgeries. Started with Percocet, graduated to buying pills from dealers, ended up shooting heroin in Chicago alleyways.”

The words came out clinical, detached, but Adam didn’t flinch or offer empty platitudes. He just nodded with the kind of recognition that came from walking the same dark road.

“Chicago’s where you met...”Adam’s voice trailed off, but the questionwasclear.

“The vampire in Chicago. Yeah.”Nick’s jaw tightened slightly.“Rock bottom had a basement level I didn’t know existed.”

Don’t think about the name. Don’t let the name surface.

Adam nodded with grim understanding.“For me itwasgetting arrested trying to buy from an undercover cop. Spent three days in withdrawal in county, lots of court hearings, and then the whole kidnapping thing.”

Nick glanced toward the living room where Vincent was examining his organizational charts with Luka. The idea of Vincent as a savior rather than a predator still felt foreign, but Adam was sitting in front of him, healthy and whole and clearly devoted to the vampirewho’dtakenhim.

“How do you...”Nick paused, searching for words that wouldn’t make him sound pathetic.“How do you trust someone after they’ve done that? Even if theyweretrying to help?”

“I don’t know if trust is the right word,”Adam said.“At least not at first. But Vincent proved hewaswilling to change, to do better. And I figured out that Ihadto choose between staying angry forever or building something new.”

“That simple?”

“Hell no.”Adam’s laughwasrueful.“Took months of therapy, a lot of fighting, and probably more patience than Vincent should havehadto give me. But the alternativewasspending the rest of my life hating someone who gives a damn about me, and that seemed like a waste.”

A soft sound from the living room drew his attention, and Nick realized with amusement that both Luka and Vincent migrated closer to the kitchen table, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Are you two actually listening, or just pretending to have your own conversation?”Nick asked.

Luka’s face flushed red while Vincenthadthe grace to look sheepish.

“Listening,”Vincent admitted, a flush of color spreading across his cheeks.“My boyfriend is one-on-one with a hunter, there is no world where I don’t eavesdrop.”

Adamgrinned, enjoying their embarrassment.“They’ve been doing fake sign language for the last ten minutes. Luka keeps spelling ‘banana’ and Vincent responded with what I’m pretty surewasa recipe for soup.”

The absurdity of it struck Nick and he laughed—a real one, not the careful chuckleshe’dbeen rationing. When he caught Luka’s eye across the room, the smile he offeredwasgenuine, unguarded.

“Well,”Vincent said, settling into the chair next to Adam.“Now that we’ve established our complete lack of subtlety, maybe we can have an actual conversation.”

And somehow, they did.

***

Caleb arrived three days later carrying a cardboard box that looked like itsurvived several moves and at least one flood. He set it on the coffee table, displacing Nick’s notebooks.

“I grabbed some things from Mom’s room before Marcus and I cleaned out the house,”Caleb explained, settling cross-legged on the floor beside the box.“Thought you might want them.”

Nick stared at the box like it might contain explosives. The last five years of his lifehadbeen about forgetting, about becoming someone else and cutting ties with the person he used to be. The idea of reaching back into that past felt dangerous.

“What kind of things?”he asked.