Everett nestled into the makeshift bedroll next to Dalton. It was the first time he’d ever slept naked. “Stew, biscuits, and where did you learn to make coffee like that?” Dalton shrugged. Playing was fine, but Everett was getting worried that any personal type questions he asked got shuffled off or flat-out ignored. He wasn’t sure if Dalton was hiding something or if he was ashamed. “Did they hurt you before they left you?” He hadn’t seen a mark on him, but some hurts didn’t leave marks. Rather than answer, Dalton pushed him on his back. “Whoa, no, not again.” As much as he wanted to let this go right where it was bound to go, he knew he wouldn’t feel right without a bit of jawing. “I want to talk to you.” With a huff of disappointment, Dalton rolled over onto his back. “Why can’t we talk tomorrow?” Everett couldn’t think of one good reason except his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. And if he didn’t figure out what was going on, he was going to either inadvertently hurt Dalton, or get hurt himself.
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