jerk. But Ash didn’t give him a chance to figure it out.
“If you’re done freaking out, we need to get moving.” With that, he sprang to his feet and left Elliot in the grass.
What an asshole. Elliot was torn between taking the time he needed to calm down—although he didn’t seem quite so ready to shatter as he had minutes ago—and stomping back to the car, grabbing his shit, and hitching a ride back to the city. Ash could have the fucking car.
Instead, he stomped back, flung himself into the passenger seat, and sulked out the window, seeing only the faintest reflection of himself in the glass. Ash was right. Again, dammit. Not that Elliot would tell him that.
Not that he’s waiting around for your approval, the way you fall all over yourself for his.
Whatever was going on with the power, no one was going to pause reality so he could acclimate. Worrying would only stress him, and if he got too stressed, he’d be in much more trouble.
Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Elliot changed his breathing pattern. Two short breaths in through his nose, one long exhale through his mouth. The cadence soothed his nerves and the knot of tension in his shoulders loosened.
“Are you doing Lamaze breathing?” Ash was clearly amused.
Elliot glared. “Well, I could always throw up on you. It would be fun, but then I’d have to smell you for the next—toll booth.”
“Huh?” Ash looked at him like he’d grown boobs, a mix of incomprehension and hilarity.
“Toll. Booth.” Elliot’s patience was gone. He pointed through the windshield as they neared a completely dark structure blocking their way to I-80.
“Aw, fuck,” Ash snapped.
They slowed as they approached the gate. Elliot squinted to see if anyone manned the booth, but it was too dark. With no one in front of them, they couldn’t tell if anyone was getting through.
Ash advanced cautiously, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning forward.
“What are you doing?” Elliot asked, vaguely alarmed.
“Just getting ready in case…. I need to check the booth for an emergency lift for the gate. Relax.”
He didn’t look relaxed to Elliot, especially since he kept flexing his right hand, though his posture screamed calculated nonchalance. Elliot didn’t bother to hide his confusion.
“Hello?” Ash called through his open window. No answer. “Anyone?” His hand flexed and clenched, flexed and clenched. Elliot held his breath. “Hey!” Ash hollered, and Elliot’s eyes widened when the twitchy hand eased backward and beneath the sweatshirt bunched at the small of Ash’s back. Elliot had seen enough cop shows to recognize the movement for what it was. Ash was armed.
The toll booth, and the entire plaza beyond, lit up as though the sun decided to randomly blink back on after its bedtime.
“Sorry ’bout that!” a portly man called in a friendly voice, stepping from behind the main building and into the booth in their lane with familiar ease. “Stupid battery backups are supposed to last up to seventy-two hours until the generator kicks on, but that genny ain’t been serviced in a couple years, so it’s on the fritz. Backups are never as good as they promise, or you’da never noticed a problem.”
Ash practically melted into his seat, smiling at the man and calmly draping his right wrist at the top of the wheel. Elliot remembered to breathe.
“So you got it working?”
The man smiled, his jowls rippling with his friendly nod. “I’ve been limping ’er along a while now, so I got it figured out. All you need to do is hit that button.” He pointed to the red knob on the ticket machine. “And you can be on your way. Thanks for your patience, boys.”
“Any idea what road conditions are like?” Ash asked, inching the car forward to reach the knob.
The guy shook his head. “We got two-way radios, but they don’t seem to be working right either. Not much traffic, I can tell you that. Slow night.”
“Thanks,” Ash said, punching