The Invasion of Adam (Tork and Adam Book 2) by Claire Davis, Al Stewart

Prologue…
Christmas Eve
Tork
    All week he’d fought the craving, but now it was just metres away. Walking turned into a lope, until the concrete floor resounded the slaps of his desperate, running feet. He had to see, just this one last time. He ran past crumbling walls, turning finally around the last corner.
    The garage was still there.
    Relief and disappointment battled away inside his head as his eyes roamed the walls—the dripping corner, piles of rubble, black bags and litter, the shelf… It was all the same, waiting for him, silently, as if knowing he’d be back.
    His heart thudded so violently, the shock waves landed right on the tips of his ears, and for a while, oily nausea halted the panic.
    shouldn’t be here…
    ungrateful and disloyal…
    Just in time, he remembered to breathe and thought of Adam’s sleeping face. One hand clutched the other as Tork let his eyes roam the wreck, telling himself he would not come here again, ever. But still, his fingernails tried to dig in, too deep. It took more focus than it should to uncurl them before they broke the skin. He had to keep them cut very short, cut off the avenues for opportunities.
    He shook his head angrily, trying to clear it of stupid reminders. Months of therapy…yet occasionally he still felt bound by the bad things.
    Rule: pain is pure and as solid as the sky and the earth. It will never let me down or abandon me.
    “And the rule is shit and has no power over me,” he said firmly, counting his heart’s beats until they slowed.
    Of course, he just wanted to remind himself how bad it was here; he had no reason to be guilty about the visit. Prickling unease made him look cautiously back through the alleyway, but there was no accusing blonde head. Tork wasn’t doing anything wrong, but coming here today would be difficult to explain.
    Last year, this abandoned garage, away from the world, had been his only home. Now he had a flat, and was happy, but…
    He trod carefully through the puddles, towards the shelf where he had once placed his belongings and things of great value.
    “Tork!”
    Tork jumped, banging into the wall as he spun around to face the voice. Adam. Of course it was Adam. Tall and handsome, he stepped into the opening like an urban warrior climbing through a poster.
    “ What are you doing here?” Adam demanded. “You said you wouldn’t come again. Why would you wanna come to this shithole?” He threw his hands on his hips and waited.
    “You followed me?” Tork asked carefully, not wanting a row.
    “I was just making sure you were OK.” Adam flung his arms out defensively. “Why didn’t you answer my call?”
    “I am sorry. I came out for a walk, and then—”
    “A walk? Out here in the land of the apocalypse?”
    “—and then, I remembered I was near. There is an item I left here, long ago.” Tork wanted to kiss Adam now, though. He wanted to walk away and leave this sorrowful place forever. Even in this wasteland, Adam shone. Occasionally, the brightness was too much, like looking at the sun without blinking.
    “You left what? Part of your lung from coughing? The smell of piss? Why would you come here, when you could be with me?” Adam clamped his lips firmly, but not quickly enough to stop the wobble.
    Tork looked at him steadily, waiting for Adam to rub his forehead. He always did when he was upset or hurt.
    “No. Let me show you what I left. It means a great deal to me.” He held out his hand.
    Adam glared at it, and for a minute, they both waited for him to ask Tork when he’d last cleaned it. But those days were gone.
    Adam stalked across and grabbed his hand, then kissed it tenderly. “I was worried,” he murmured, rubbing his forehead with the other hand and shrugging.
    Tork squeezed his precious hand, and pulled him closer. “Look, just there. See that shelf?”
    Adam leaned to look, his blonde hair falling across his handsome face. “What am I meant to be noticing?” He frowned.
    Most of Tork’s