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“Maybe.” Renzo wasn’t sure it mattered—Joe might be fine, but Renzo wouldn’t be. He had this...need to be perfect after Joe’s accident. To be the best son. Best brother. And he wasn’t sure he could fully articulate that to Canaan, even if he tried.
“I’m serious.” Canaan turned in his arms. “You’re a pretty awesome person, even without the SEAL stuff.”
“Kind of a moot point. Not sure who I’d be without the SEAL stuff,” Renzo mumbled, unsure what to do with the praise.
“You. You’d be you.” Canaan gave him another of those lingering kisses that made Renzo’s stomach feel funny. Not arousal. Something else. Something deeper. Scarier.
Renzo’s watch beeped right then, prompting another piece of sandwich and some water, and he was damn glad for the distraction from the heavy talk.
“Hey. It’s getting dark.” Turning, Canaan studied the horizon. “It’s later than I thought.”
“Yeah. It’s getting colder too.” Renzo unfolded the space blankets and tucked them around the two of them, pressing his backpack behind his head as a sort of pillow. “It’s okay if you sleep again.”
“I thought...” Canaan’s voice wavered. “I figured...they must know we’re missing by now, right?”
“Yeah.” Holding him tighter, Renzo kissed the top of his head. “I promise we’re getting out of this thing, okay? In the morning, we reassess.”
In the morning, Renzo would do whatever had to be done to make sure Canaan survived. He had some ideas but wasn’t going to share his plans quite yet. The important thing was that they make it through this first night, that he keep Canaan as safe and warm as possible. All that talk about Joe had reminded him how helpless he’d felt back then. No way was he letting Canaan down too.
* * *
Cold. It was something Canaan hadn’t ever thought too much about—he’d grown up in San Diego, tooled around Europe with the band, and sure, stayed in some drafty hostels, but he’d never really been cold. Cold was a night without sleeping bags in the desert, no tent or trees to break the howling wind that had replaced the rain.
Cold was clinging to Renzo like he was the only thing keeping Canaan from freezing to death. Cold was dozing fitfully, waking up more and more chilled, trying to find warmth anywhere he could.
“I’ve been colder,” Renzo said as Canaan burrowed into his chest like that might help. “I know it’s miserable, but I promise it’s bearable.”
“We might have differing definitions of bearable.” Canaan yawned. It wasn’t close to dawn yet, but sleeping like this was hard.
“Survivable,” Renzo corrected himself with a forced-sounding laugh. Kissing the side of Canaan’s head, he tucked the space blankets tighter around them.
“You sure we can’t fool around? Sex would warm us both up.” If Canaan was going to die on this rock—something that was looking like more and more of a possibility—then he didn’t want to go out as a shivering husk. Better he remember how utterly transcendent Renzo could make him feel.
“Energy drain. Dehydration risk. Spooge mess—”
“Swallowing could solve two of those.”
“You’re thinking this is your last night on earth to have sex, and you can’t think like that,” Renzo said sternly.
“But it could be. Damn. I wish we had paper. Or could risk the phone power for typing. I keep thinking about Grandpa and what if someone’s already called him.”
“If I think it’s that dire, I promise you we’ll spare the phone power. But it’s not. No last requests, okay? Out in the field, we have to guard against thinking negatively like that. You can’t dwell on low odds or high risks. Just gotta do your job and plan on coming home.”
“I’m trying.”
“Think about what you want to eat back in Flagstaff when this is all done with. Tacos? I’ll let you choose the food this time. I’m not sure if they have pho or ramen, but I bet we could find Thai food.”
“Thai sounds good.” Canaan let himself be lulled back to sleepiness with talk of what they’d order, how much pad thai they could eat at once, and whether they’d need to shower first.
“Shower together,” he slurred, eyelids getting heavy.
“Sleep,” Renzo whispered.
When he woke next, the air wasn’t any warmer but the sky had shifted from pitch black to a gray sort of dawn. An overcast sunrise, which didn’t bode the best for weather. Or rescue efforts.
“When do you think they’ll start searching?” he asked after they’d both taken care of necessary morning business and split the orange plus a protein bar. Still damp and chilly, they huddled back under the space blankets.
“Soon.” Renzo sounded more than a little distracted.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. Just weighing options in my head.”
“How about you share some of that? I know I’m not as useful as a SEAL out here, but we are kind of a team, right? Shouldn’t I get a vote?”
