Unhinged (Necessary Evils #1)(49)

“Oh, my God, stop,” Noah said around a laugh, covering half his face with his hand. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I know. You’re turning pink,” Adam said, leaning back to better look at him.

Noah removed his sunglasses, dropping them on the table. Adam saw the cameras come out then, knew people couldn’t resist photographing and recording the two of them and how in love they appeared.

Adam wished he was capable of loving somebody. If he could love anybody, it would be Noah. Just Noah. But he couldn’t. He could only protect him and spoil him and give him lots of pancakes and orgasms. He hoped that was enough. He hoped Noah never changed his mind because, the truth was, he wasn’t letting him go. He couldn’t. But he’d already warned Noah of that. He just hoped he’d taken the warning to heart.

“Be prepared for another onslaught of followers and tags on Instagram,” he murmured, without looking over at the amateur paparazzi.

“Why do they only catch us when I look like death and you look hot?” Noah asked.

“One: you always look hot, and two: because I have a habit of feeding you when you’re sad.”

“Will you still want me when I’m fat and happy?”

Adam gave him another smirk, popping an entire piece of bacon into his mouth at once, chewing and swallowing before he said, “We’ll get fat together.”

Noah laughed. “I could be down with that, but I think your fans would cry.”

Adam’s smile faded as he leaned in close. “Fuck them. Fuck everybody but you. Yours is the only opinion that matters. So, don’t change your mind about me. Okay?”

There was no missing the threat in Adam’s tone, but Noah’s gaze was solid when he said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam reclined once more. “Good.”

They finished eating and Adam paid the check. On the road, Noah synced his phone to the Rover’s sound system, sharing his love of eighties music with Adam, pleased when he was familiar with the songs.

“My dad was big on eighties music. He was raised on it, so we were, too,” Adam said.

Noah smiled. “My foster mom, Leslie, loved all things eighties. Her clothes, her makeup. Her hair was blonde and teased into a wave on top of her head. It was the same as it was in her high school yearbook picture. She taught me all about pop music and hair bands. Michael Jackson and Tiffany. Poison. Bon Jovi. I loved being at her house. It was always a party. Cake for breakfast, surprise road trips to the beach, skipping school to stay home and watch movies on the couch.”

“Why didn’t you get to stay with her?” Adam asked.

Noah looked out the window. “She died. Drug overdose. She was addicted to pills. Oxy, morphine, fentanyl. She had bipolar disorder but nobody knew until later. They said she was self medicating. I was too young to really notice how all over the place she was, barely twelve. I just thought she was fun, you know?”

Adam took Noah’s hand and squeezed. Adam really had made Noah’s life so much harder when he killed his father. Maybe Thomas should start paying closer attention to the collateral damage they left behind. It wasn’t the kids’ fault their parents were monsters.

When they pulled into the driveway of Adam’s house, Noah’s eyes bulged at the palatial estate with its enormous garage and sprawling gardens. “This is one person’s house?”

Adam chuckled. “It is now. For a while, it housed me and my brothers, three very specialized nannies, four housekeepers, a chef, a martial arts instructor, the occasional weapons expert, and, once, even a professional knife thrower.”

“Your dad ran a boarding school for assassins,” Noah mused.

Adam had never thought about it. He’d definitely had a bizarre upbringing, but, like Noah said, it wasn’t something he noticed until it became obvious. “Something like that, yeah.”

Adam took Noah’s hand before he pushed open the front door. They only made it about ten steps in the door when Noah’s footsteps slowed, his head on a swivel, as he seemed to take in the vaulted ceilings and ornate furnishings.

Adam dragged him along.

“It seems weird that you can just walk into a place this big without having to knock or talk to a person at a check-in desk. What does your electric bill look like? How do you even find your way around this place? Is there a map like at the mall or like the one in the Harry Potter books? Doesn’t it freak you out? Like, somebody could be living in this place for weeks and you probably wouldn’t even know it. Like, that doesn’t freak you out? This place looks haunted. Do you think it’s haunted? Have you ever seen a ghost?”

Adam grinned at Noah’s rambling, not bothering to answer the questions as he didn’t seem to need Adam’s contribution to the conversation.

“You have two swimming pools? Who needs two pools in one house? Your dad lives alone. Does he just get up in the morning and look at one pool and be like, ‘Nah, not this one,’ and go to the other? Two kitchens, too? And a kitchen outside? What does somebody do with an oven outside? Decide to bake a turkey poolside? Is that a golf course?”

Adam laughed. “There’s a bowling alley, too. And a shooting range.”

“Shut up,” Noah marveled.

“You’re welcome to use any part of the house any time you want. It’s my house, too.”