Only You by Willa Okati Read Free Book Online Page A

morning, looked like. He couldn’t make out the details from a distance, but the color had gone from sepia to sable. Almost fully emerged.
    Nick made a mumbling, unhappy sound and, still asleep, reached back to rub at the spot.
    Barrett blew out a long breath. Fuck me. He clicked off the kettle before it could whistle and set about making coffee he didn’t really want anymore. Didn’t matter. Hot, strong and dark, it’d feel good on his dry throat if nothing else, and it’d resign his body somewhat to being awake far before he had to.
    It’d distract him long enough to get him started on his day.
    Maybe.
    He watched Nick roll onto one side, face turned toward the wall and not in Barrett’s direction. Didn’t seem easy for him to settle. He fidgeted, digging his shoulder into the mattress, and only calmed down when he reached to scratch at the soulmark.
    Like an itch that can’t be scratched. Barrett had heard people describe it that way, when they talked about what it’d been like to have a soulmark develop. An awareness that there was someone or something missing, and an urge to find it. Like being hungry—starving—but choosy, with no idea what you wanted to eat until it waltzed across your plate. Or until you went out and hunted it down yourself.
    Barrett set his lips together in a firm, hard line and poured his favorite mug brim-full of dark coffee without cream or sugar. From the looks of it, Nick wouldn’t wake up for a good while. Maybe a few hours. Still the weekend, so he didn’t really need to.
    Would have been nice to wake him, but…
    The coffee was still too hot to drink. Barrett sipped at the bitter black brew all the same and let himself think the question—did Nick really, truly think that playing ostrich could work, or did he only want to make himself believe it?
    No idea, but at the rate Nick’s soulmark seemed to darken, they’d know soon enough.
    It wasn’t right, Barrett wanted to shout. It wasn’t fair. They’d loved each other since they were kids. They’d waited until they were both past thirty. If a person was going to develop a soulmark, it almost always happened before then. And now this? Fuck .
    Mouth tightly shut, silence preserved, Barrett padded out of the kitchen the same way he’d come with mug in hand. En route to the comfortable, battered old couch he and Nick had cherished for years, he snagged the tablet PC they shared from its charging station. Email. When in doubt, check email. Or when in need of a way to kill some time.
    And if he happened to wander sideways into a Google search for soulmarks and avoidance syndrome statistics, that was his business.
     
    * * * *
     
    Nick had gotten halfway through a shower before he remembered his soulmark. Not on purpose, either. Only when he scraped his nails across the skin while rinsing soap from his hair.
    He prodded the mark, searching for signs of development. Might be a little more raised, a bit of a pattern discernible to the touch, but nothing like the ones he’d caught glimpses of in others. He hadn’t dreamed the night before, or at least no dreams he could remember. Nothing about wandering or searching for something he couldn’t name and couldn’t find.
    That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
    Odd, though, that Barrett hadn’t woken him when he’d snuck out of bed. Barrett usually liked to think himself sneakier than he actually was, and Nick usually didn’t mind letting him. Barrett griped endlessly about insomnia, but truth be told, ninety percent of the time Barrett liked puttering around on lazy weekend mornings. Liked it as much as Nick liked watching him at it.
    Well, he’d been distracted, Nick decided, scrubbing the last of the shampoo out of his hair and watching it spiral down the drain. No harm in that. It was understandable, even. They’d had a hell of a shock, both of them. As long as they didn’t let it eat them alive, they’d be all right.
    Barrett would probably be better at it than him. Nick