Billy let himself be pulled along. He focused on Goodnight, the certainty of his movements, the warmth of his body. When they reached the couch, Billy had no qualms about settling himself on top of his lap, kissing Goodnight deeply.

That they had this place to themselves, that they had privacy and no one to knock on their doors to check in if they needed something, was still a miracle to Billy. He felt a wild sort of abandon. It was a sort of freedom that, a few times, they had joked about: settling out, somewhere in the frontier, to own land and be accountable to no one but themselves and each other. Darrow felt like that just then.