Chapter 6
Kade draped another costume over his arm and surveyed the chaos of his shop.
Seven days until Halloween and he was already running on fumes.
The decorations he'd hung this year cast deeper shadows than usual.
He'd gone all out this year and the whole place looked like a gothic fever dream, which matched his mood perfectly.
The front window display was completely blocked by an elaborate haunted forest scene.
Gnarled branches stretched across the glass, draped with Spanish moss and dotted with tiny LED lights that pulsed like fireflies.
A fog machine hidden behind the child mannequin sent wisps of mist curling around the adult figures dressed as a vampire and a witch.
It was his most ambitious display yet, and customers had been stopping to take photos all week.
But right now, the decorations just made everything feel claustrophobic.
He hung the last costume—a hand-beaded flapper dress that had taken him three weeks to finish, then abandoned by its client—and checked his phone.
The numbers in his banking app made him smile despite his exhaustion.
This October had blown every previous year out of the water.
He'd started accepting more complex commissions and allowed due dates later into the month than ever before, charging rush fees that would have made him blush two years ago.
The YouTube channel he'd launched after last Halloween had finally hit its stride.
Costume tutorials, behind-the-scenes footage of his process, even some historical fashion content that had unexpectedly taken off.
The algorithm gods had smiled on him, and subscribers were translating into customers from all over willing to pay premium prices for custom work.
It was everything he'd dreamed of, but right now it was killing him. The constant filming, editing, posting schedule on top of his busiest season had him running on caffeine and spite.
Still, it was working. Next year he'd be able to implement appointment-only scheduling even in October. Maybe take on an assistant. Travel to higher-paying clients in the city or even other states.
His phone alarm chimed—closing time. Finally.
The door chimes jingled as someone pushed inside.
"I'm sorry, but we're closed," Kade called without looking up from the dressing room where he was gathering dropped accessories and straightening the ottoman. "I can get you set up first thing tomorrow if you're local, but you'll have to be quick about what you need."
Footsteps shuffled near the front of the store. Heavy boots on hardwood, uncertain and halting.
"I don't need a costume." The voice was deeper than he remembered, rougher around the edges, but he recognized the shape of the words.
Kade's blood turned to ice water. He knew that voice. No matter how much it changed, he'd know it.
He straightened slowly and turned.
The man standing just inside the door looked nothing like the Winston from his memories, but Kade knew it was him.
He looked like a mountain man. He had a long beard and had shoved unkempt hair shoved under a knit beanie.
His red, flannel shirt that had seen better times.
He wore sunglasses that were much more expensive than the outfit, even though the sun had set over an hour ago.
He hesitated before taking them off and hanging them on the neck of his shirt.
Kade would know those mismatched eyes anywhere. One blue, one brown. It wasn't just his eyes though. It was everything. The way he held his shoulders. The particular tilt of his head. The way he absentmindedly picked at his fingers when he was nervous.
Damn, he had studied Winston more than he'd realized in the short time they'd been together.
"We're closed," Kade repeated, his voice flat and cold.
"Kade, please. I know you recognize me."
Winston took a step forward, and Kade's chest clenched with unwanted familiarity. Same graceful way of moving, like he was constantly adjusting for a body that might change without warning.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Kade turned back to the dressing room, hands shaking as he adjusted the curtains. "The shop is closed. You need to leave."
"Please." Winston's voice cracked. "I came to apologize. And to pay you back."
The words hit Kade like a physical blow. A year of buried hurt and anger rose up his throat, threatening to choke him.
"I don't know what you think you owe me, but I'm not interested." Kade kept his back turned, not trusting himself to look at Winston again. "Please leave."
"The hundred dollars. I left an IOU."
Kade's hands stilled on the heavy fabric. That stupid piece of paper was still tucked in his wallet, though he couldn't say why he'd kept it.
"I have money now," Winston continued, desperation creeping into his voice. "I can pay you back properly. With interest."
"No, thank you. Please leave."
His voice came out rougher than Kade expected. His throat was tight. Winston had left him. Stolen from him. Disappeared without explanation after the most incredible night of Kade's life. Kade had learned what he was supposed and didn't want another lesson.
"I know you're angry—"
"Angry?" Kade whirled around, all pretense abandoned. "You think I'm angry? You broke into my shop, I took you home. I thought we had a something, and you robbed me. Now you waltz back in here like nothing happened?"
Winston flinched but held his ground. "I left you an IOU."
"A hundred dollars, Winston. Out of thousands. I offered you food, shelter; I was ready to give you whatever you needed." Kade's voice rose despite himself. "I wanted to help you. I thought—I'm such an idiot."
"You're not an idiot. I am. I fucked up."
Winston pulled off his beanie, running fingers through hair that was longer and darker than before.
As if he only just then remembered how he looked, Winston smoothly shifted to the man he was last year, right down to the stubble.
There was no flicker, or settling into the shape when Winston was done.
One moment he lived off-grid and the next he was Winston from Kade's memories. It was a gut punch.
"Yeah, you did." Kade said to Winston's chest instead of into those eyes. The sunglasses had moved to the neck of his T-shirt, but hadn't changed. They must have been real.
He glanced at Winston's face. The expression was harder, less scared and exhausted than the Winston Kade met, but still hopeful. There was something steadier about him too, like he'd found his footing in the year since Kade had seen him.
"I don't want your money," Kade said finally.
"But I owe you—"
"You don't owe me anything. We're strangers. We spent one night together a year ago, and you made it clear what it meant to you."
Winston's face crumpled. "It meant everything to me."
The quiet admission hung between them, and for a moment Kade's anger wavered. But seeing him again had reopened the old wound.
"Then why did you leave?"
"Because I'm a coward." Winston's laugh was bitter. "You have no idea how much you helped me and I couldn't be what you needed. Not yet."
"You didn’t know what I needed. You didn’t even give us the weekend to find out.”
They stood in uncomfortable silence. Kade's heart hammered against his ribs, torn between the urge to throw Winston out and the desire to forgive him. It was a year ago, Kade should be over it by now, but, for some reason, he wasn’t.
"I'm going to pay you back," Winston said finally. "Whether you want me to or not."
"Fine. Whatever. Do what you want." Kade turned away again, pretending to get back to closing the store.
Winston was quiet for a long moment. Only the click of the sunglasses and the sound of fabric rustling as he changed shape. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.
"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I had to try."
Footsteps moved toward the door, then paused.
"I slept on the streets for a year, and you were the only person who helped me, who…saw me. I always regretted leaving you, Kade."
The door chimes jangled, and then Winston was gone, leaving Kade alone again.