Page 4 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

As a child, Nat had loved fairy tales. He loved the idea of the white knight or charming prince, coming in on his noble steed to rescue the princess in peril. He’d spent most of his childhood living his own version of Rapunzel’s life, trapped by his mother and her lies, unable to advocate for himself, or even to get help. He had to wait for his knight. His prince.

He did eventually escape that tower, but no knight ever came to save him. Nat fought his own battles, fell down over and over, and collected wounds along the way, but he never gave up. He never would give up. His life had been such an incredibly complex, traumatizing whirlwind this past year, and for a long moment in that alley, with the man with the garlic breath humping him against a brick wall, threatening to choke him with his cock once he’d fucked Nat’s ass raw… Nat knew he was going to die.

He’d die in that rank, damp, hot alley, because he was too fucking proud to ask for help in fixing the shithole his life had devolved into.

He wouldn’t go down easily, though, and he’d been prepared to fight the john to his last breath—and then a close, loud clang had nearly sent his heart through his chest. Streetlight glinted off the strands of silver in the stranger’s hair and the startling blue of his eyes, and he’d stood like a castle guard, angry and ready to do battle.

Nat hadn’t truly believed it was real, that someone had come to his rescue in the nick of time, until the john released him. His tall, gentle savior had knelt, been so kind, that Nat couldn’t control himself. He’d sobbed out his relief, his gratitude, and his fear in great, wrenching sobs that hadn’t lasted long, but they’d left his throat sore and his head pounding.

And now his white knight, his charming prince, had carried him off to a celebratory feast at a late-night diner. Zack Matteson. Older man, gorgeous, possibly wealthy, but the car made Nat wonder. Courageous for sure. And forgiving, if he wasn’t going to punish Nat for taking food from his restaurant.

Unless this is a ruse to relax you before he demands payment. Don’t let your guard down, idiot.

Nat was too exhausted, sore and hungry to care if he had to perform later. He’d done far worse for a payday, and he was no stranger to tricking out for a place to sleep.

The scents of meat, grease, and sugar assaulted him the moment Nat climbed out of Zack’s car. He brushed off his clothes as best he could and contemplated leaving his dirty hoodie in the car. But he couldn’t risk needing to run and being unable to retrieve it. It was hot, but it covered the deep, still healing bruises from his last night with Austin. Bruises could turn off potential johns.

Forget Austin. Enjoy the moment.

Easier said than done. That asshole haunted his nightmares.

Zack politely held the diner door open for Nat, and they passed through the glass vestibule into the main restaurant. This one was more like a Denny’s than a traditional train-car style diner, without the chrome or red barstools, but it was still cozy and cool. Country music played on a sound system, loud enough to give ambiance without forcing them to shout at each other.

Half the place was roped off and closed for the night. The hostess led them to a booth in the open section, their window facing the parking lot. She was quickly replaced by a woman in a green apron who introduced herself as Rhonda, told them the day’s specials, and then asked, “Start you off with coffee?”

“I’ll have decaf,” Zack said.

“Strawberry milkshake?” Nat asked, directing the question as much to the waitress as to Zack. Zack tilted his head in a short nod.

“Have ‘em both out to you soon.” She gave them perky nods then left.

Nat cracked open the thick menu. He loved places like this, where it felt impossible to choose because there were so many options. He loved having choices. Everything looked amazing, especially the steaks, but he needed carbs. Needed long-lasting fuel. He needed the thirty bucks tonight’s john gave him before the blow job disaster for a cell phone. Being without one was the worst sense of disconnect, and he hated it.

“Anything look good?” Zack asked. He’d barely glanced at his menu and seemed to be studying Nat. Whatever. Nat was used to being stared at.

“All of it, but I’m thinking pasta.”

“There are quite a few options. Are you a bigger fan of marinara sauce or alfredo sauce?”

“Marinara, I guess. Growing up, we ate jarred red sauce. Simple stuff. I always thought alfredo looked like baby spit-up.”

Zack laughed out loud, a comforting, rumbling sound that came from deep in his chest. How could one belt of laughter make Nat feel so safe that he wanted to roll over and show his belly? He’d known this man for fifteen minutes.

“Sorry,” Nat said. “Sometimes I just blurt stuff out.”

“It’s all right, it’s charming.”

“Really? My ex used to say it was annoying.”

“Then it’s a good thing they’re an ex.”

“He. He’s an ex.” Might as well make sure Zack knew exactly who was sitting across the table from him. “I’m a gay, homeless, part-time prostitute, sometime waiter, college dropout.”

Zack settled back against the banquette, hands resting in his lap. “You are a blunt one, aren’t you? Are you waiting tables right now?”

“Right now? I’m sitting here with you.”

Zack’s lips twitched. “Are you currently employed, Nathaniel?”

“No. A few weeks ago, a friend got me an under-the-table gig at a catered event, but it’s hard to land a legit job without a mailing address.”

“Fair. And I’m not going to grill you about your current circumstances. But if you feel the need to vent, I will listen with a compassionate ear.”

“Why? Were you homeless once?”

“Near enough.”

The waitress returned with their drinks. Nat ordered chicken parmigiana and spaghetti with garlic bread. Zack ordered grilled salmon and veggies. After taking a long pull from his milkshake, Nat said, “How were you nearly homeless? If you don’t mind telling me?”

“It’s not a story I typically share with new friends, but we are both in unusual circumstances tonight.” Zack added a packet of sweetener to his coffee and stirred. Nat wasn’t a fan of coffee’s taste, but he loved the aroma. “I grew up in a very strict, religious, fundamentalist household. My father was in politics and public-facing, so I was to conform. To be the perfect, straight son who went to church, attended whichever bigoted protest we were tackling that month, and basically be a Mini Me of my father. I was being strangled to death by that life.”

“Sounds awful.” And Nat could empathize with being strangled by the choices of a parent. “When did you come out?”

“I was actually outed by someone else before I could tell them. My father wanted me to attend a seminary school, as he did, before following in a similar political career. I had no desire to do either of those things, but I did convince him that a degree in political science from Notre Dame was a better opportunity. Being away from home exposed me to all sorts of things I’d only dreamed about.” Zack glanced around but no one was nearby. “I embraced being gay. A lot and as often as possible. Quite frankly, I was reckless, and the summer before my senior year, my parents discovered my participation in certain internet chat rooms that I forgot to wipe from my browser history. I wanted to lie, to say I was doing research for a future campaign against this degenerate lifestyle, so he’d pay for my last year of school. But I couldn’t. I could not shut that closet door again. So, I told the truth.”

Zack’s voice was so soft and fractured that he sounded close to tears. Nat’s heart hurt for someone so much older who was still this hurt by something that happened a lifetime ago. He didn’t know Zack’s exact age, but he’d guess late thirties to early forties.

Nat barely resisted the urge to reach over and squeeze Zack’s hand. “Did they kick you out?”

“Oh yes. My father allowed me to pack one carryon bag with belongings, handed me a roll of cash, and told me to never return, unless I had repented and blah, blah, blah. I took the bus across three states to stay with a college friend for a while. Eventually, I got on my feet, finished my degree on my own, and have been financially stable ever since.”

“What about emotionally stable? Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“Now that’s a fucking cop-out answer.”

Zack ran his finger around the rim of his steaming coffee mug, lips twisting without settling on a frown or a smile. “You know, I was hoping to find out more about you while we’re here.”

“Fine. Answer my last question, and then you can ask me a few of your own.”

“I’m working on being happy, but it’s difficult when you’re in a new town, working with new people, and taking care of an old friend who’s dying a slow death.” Zack’s steady voice wobbled at the end.

Nat leaned forward, surprised and upset on Zack’s behalf. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you.”

Saying you were working on being happy was a fair enough answer, and an honest one for someone in Zack’s apparent position. Nat stirred his straw in his milkshake. “Okay, so what do you wanna know about me?”

“How old are you?”

“Over twenty-one.”

Zack quirked one eyebrow, and Nat swore his eyes lit up. Not with interest but with amusement. “Have you always lived in Reynolds?”

“No, I moved here when I started college.”

“And never left after you dropped out?”

“Correct.” He got the sense Zack would keep asking simple questions until he’d pried it all out of Nat, and Nat was too tired to play. “Look, I came to school with a scholarship, but I couldn’t keep my grades up, so I lost it. I ended up having to work part-time and do school part-time, which was taking forever, and then I just couldn’t afford classes anymore, so I dropped out last year. I’ve had other shit going on since then.”

Memories of that wonderful month-ish of dating Angelo, followed by the grief of dumping him, going back to Austin, the explosion at Tim’s, recovering with someone who seemed to disdain him, and then reaching his own emotional breaking point—they swirled around Nat’s mind like a foul windstorm, beating at him from all sides.

Warmth covered the top of his left hand. Nat jerked his head up and met Zack’s understanding gaze. Zack squeezed once then drew his hand back across the table. “I couch surfed for a few days,” Nat finished, “but it’s safer on the streets.”

Zack flinched. “You must have left something pretty awful.”

“I did. And I’m not talking about that tonight.”

“All right. I accept that boundary, Nathaniel.” Zack leaned back again and concentrated on sipping his coffee.

Nat waited for more questions that never came. Unsure if he’d just brought their conversation to an abrupt halt, Nat played around with his milkshake. He’d ordered it on a whim. One of his college jobs had been at an ice cream shop near campus that specialized in massive sundaes and crazy shakes. He’d loved the job, but the store had closed during his sophomore year. A health food store had taken over the location a few months later.

Their food arrived. Nat asked for water to go with his milkshake, and Rhonda refilled Zack’s coffee. The chicken parm was delicious, and Nat forced himself to take small bites, to chew carefully and alternate with sips of his milkshake, and to not gorge himself like his empty stomach demanded. He needed to fill it slowly so he didn’t get sick.

The silence hanging between them mocked Nat with its coldness. He’d enjoyed the warmth of their earlier conversation, even though they’d both admitted to trauma in their pasts, and grief in their present. Nat wasn’t close enough with anyone in his current life to have any idea how Zack felt about watching a friend die slowly, and he didn’t dare ask what the friend had. Cancer was the most likely culprit, but he didn’t want to upset Zack more.

Not upsetting the bigger guy saved bruises later.

He was also incredibly curious. Something about Zack drew him in and urged Nat to learn more. He’d felt something similar with Angelo, but that had been after they fucked the first time. Angelo had been closed off and not much for talking about his personal life. He’d shared bits and pieces, and Nat knew things from bar gossip. Conversely, Zack seemed willing to open up to the right person, at the right time, but he was guarded in a different way.

Nat wasn’t ready to stop learning about this man. “Where did you live before you moved to Reynolds?” he asked.

Zack paused with a fork of sautéed broccoli by his mouth, then took the bite and chewed. “Several places, actually. I had a somewhat nomadic existence for a few years, doing different charity work. Jobs that allowed me to travel and see more of the northeast and some of the south.”

“Wow. I haven’t traveled at all.”

“You’re young. You have plenty of time to see the wider world.”

Nat rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound condescending at all.”

“It’s true. I didn’t start traveling a lot until I was in my late thirties. After I left college, I ended up settling down in Wilmington for over fifteen years.”

“North Carolina?”

“Delaware.”

“Oh. And you grew up where?”

“Western New York. Town no one’s ever heard of. And you?”

Nat had kind of fallen into that with his own nosiness. “In and around Louisville.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have picked Kentucky.”

“I learned to drop the accent before I started my freshman year. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was from, and that’s that.”

“Okay. Subject dropped.”

“Thank you.” Nat twirled strands of spaghetti around his fork tines. “You must have liked Wilmington. To stay for so long.”

“I did. It’s a good-sized city without being overwhelmingly large. I had a decent social circle and support system, and it was a great environment to invest in business ventures. I had quite a few successes there, as well as a few spectacular failures. But when we fail, we dust ourselves off and try again.”

“It’s easier to get up when there’s someone to help you.”

“This is very true. I was lucky to have friends around to help me through the tough times. I’m very sorry you don’t have anyone you could have turned to before now.”

Nat flinched. He’d never forget the cruel look on Austin’s face last November, when they’d driven past one of Angelo’s renovation homes and “joked” about setting it on fire if Nat didn’t stay away from Angelo. The danger was seared into his memory. “It’s not safe to ask anyone for help.”

Zack pressed both hands flat to the table and hunched his shoulders. Lowered his head. “Nathaniel, I need you to be honest with me. Are you in trouble with the police?”

“No.” Nat glared at him, angry at the question while also understanding why he’d asked. “I’m not a fugitive, there’s no warrant for my arrest, and I haven’t committed any crimes.” Well, prostitution wasn’t exactly legal, but whatever. “I’m not involved in drugs or theft or anything like that. It’s not a criminal thing, it’s personal.”

“Someone’s trying to find you?”

“I don’t know for sure. Look, things got bad, and I left, and I don’t want him to find me again. If I don’t exist anywhere, then he can’t find me.”

“Ah.” Zack drew that tiny word out into at least four syllables full of sympathy and understanding. Nat wanted to bristle, to chafe against the pity, but there wasn’t any there. “I haven’t dealt with that particular problem personally, but I’ve known a few people who have. It’s tough, and it’s even tougher when you try to do it on your own.”

“Sometimes there’s no choice. I won’t let him hurt anyone else because of me.” Two people he cared about had already been nearly killed when Nat had tried to break up with Austin. He couldn’t risk it again.

“So, you’re going to what? Live in abandoned warehouses for the rest of your life? Spend it completely alone on the streets?”

“No, I’m saving up money. When I have enough, I’m getting a burner phone and a bus ticket out of here. I was almost there, and then I got mugged a few days ago. They took everything I had.” Shame washed over him like ice water. He hadn’t been watchful; he’d tried to trust that the guy wanted to help him.

He’d been wrong, and his ribs were still tender from the encounter.

Nat looked up from his plate in time to see the anger simmering in Zack’s eyes. Eyes that softened immediately when they met Nat’s, and that…felt nice. Someone was angry on his behalf, for a change, instead of angry at him. He missed kind, tender looks and genuine smiles, especially from handsome, older men. Yes, he had a type, but who didn’t? Nat liked older, confident, stable men.

Austin had been different from his usual type, and that had been exciting.

Until it wasn’t.

Then it had been about survival, and eventually, escape.

“I’m sorry you lost everything,” Zack said. “I hate that you think the only way to stay safe is by risking your life on the street.”

“I go to a shelter sometimes, but I get paranoid, like someone there will recognize me and tell him. I don’t want him to find me.”

“I take it you haven’t gone to the police because you don’t have any proof of anything he’s done? Medical records or witnesses, or anything on your phone?” Zack grunted. “Although, you mentioned buying a burner phone.”

“I don’t have my old phone anymore.” Which had all his old contacts it in for Sasha, Bud Maher, Angelo, and all the other friends he’d made over the years from college and various jobs. All gone. Nat liked how respectful Zack was being with this entire situation, not too nosy or judgmental. Just asking questions and processing the answers. “He was too careful for there to be proof of anything.”

Zack fiddled with his coffee mug, his gaze fixed on the table, as imaginary wheels turned in his head. Nat could almost see them in a little cartoon cloud, and it was comforting to know someone gave a good goddamn about him for once. “Nathaniel, I’m not going to ask you to give me his name, even though I want to. And I’m not going to blame you for anything that’s happened to you.”

Nat’s hand jerked. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve dealt with abusive men before, and one thing they all have in common is that they are fantastic performers. They can be the most charming, affable, joyful person in a crowd of people, and then turn into something ugly and cruel behind closed doors. I was fooled by someone I thought I was close to, who I thought was a very good friend, and he wasn’t who I thought. He turned out to be a violent narcissist who attacked his ex more than once for leaving him.”

Zack’s hushed tone betrayed his anguish at being betrayed so badly by this unnamed man, and it surprised Nat that Zack was admitting all this to a relative stranger in a diner. But he admired Zack for his honesty and vulnerability. No one liked to admit they’d been fooled.

“I’m sorry your friend hurt you,” Nat said.

“Thank you. Although, he hurt me far less than he hurt his victim, whom I did meet briefly. And I’m happy to say that young man, the last I heard, is very happy with his new partner.”

“I’m glad. What about the guy who hurt him? Your friend?”

“Well, no longer a friend, of course. He spent some time in jail, but I left Wilmington and my old life behind before his release. I have no idea where he is or what he’s up to. My only wish for him is that he learned from his fuck-ups and is living a better life.”

Nat snorted. “Do you think men like that ever really change?”

“I think some can but few do, because it takes work. It takes facing what you’ve done, admitting fault, accepting consequences, and understanding why you acted in that way. Discovering the underlying factors.”

“It can’t just be that they’re a psychopath who enjoys hurting other people?”

“It can be, certainly. There are things like mental illness to consider, as well as sociopathy, narcissistic personality disorder, a whole range of things that warp the way a person perceives themselves and the world. And none of that is an excuse; it’s an explanation that can help someone change. If they choose to change.”

“Dude…” Nat hacked off a piece of his chicken. “Did you major is psychology or something?”

“No. But during the last few years, when I was on the road for work? I listened to a lot of audiobooks on true crime and criminal behavior. It’s been beneficial in understanding the way certain minds think. There are some people who hurt and abuse, and who can be helped if they want to be helped.”

“And there are absolute bastards who just enjoy it and don’t want to change?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t think Au—my ex wants to change. I think he enjoys it too much.”

“So, you’re just going to leave the life you built here behind and run?”

“What choice do I have?” Besides, he’d done it once before. Not that he’d loved his old life in Louisville, but it had at least been familiar. He’d left it behind to come here, and now he had to put a new pin in the map and go elsewhere. Maybe to Wilmington? Was it a big enough city to disappear into? Maybe Atlanta was better. South instead of north.

Zack rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You always have choices. One of the biggest challenges in our lives is figuring out which choice to make for our greatest benefit. Some are made easily, some are insanely difficult. Some seem like the right thing at the time, but sometimes they turn out to be wrong. Leaving might feel like the easy choice, but are you sure it’s the correct choice?”

“Leaving is safer right now.”

“But living on the street until you have the means to leave isn’t.”

“And again, what choice do I have? I’ve tricked out a few times, but it’s far from a sure thing that they’ll let me stay all night once they’ve fucked me.”

Of course, their waitress chose that moment to come over and ask if they needed anything. Why couldn’t she have done it when Nat had a mouth full of food, like usual? She gave Zack a hard stare before angling toward Nat. “Everything okay, sugar?”

Nat appreciated her paying attention to her customers, but he didn’t need anyone else nosing into his life. “Yeah, we’re fine. But thanks for asking.”

“Mmm hmm.” She left.

“Listen, Nathaniel, I have a proposal for you,” Zack said.

So far, Zack had been patient, nonjudgmental, and he made a lot of sense. Nat leaned forward and mimicked Zack’s posture. “I’m listening.”

“You only need a couple hundred dollars for a cheap phone and a bus ticket, right? But what about once you get there? You’ll need more money for a place to stay, to get yourself set up somewhere new so you aren’t just living on the streets in another state. Trying to earn that amount of money in your, ah, current profession is dangerous, not just physically, but you could also get arrested.”

“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know, and I don’t hear a proposal.”

Zack smiled gently. “I’m offering you a spot on my couch, free use of my bathroom, and unrestricted access to my kitchen. I’ll even help you find legitimate work, if that’s what you want.”

Uh huh. “The couch? Is that before or after I spend time in your bed?”

“This is not a sexual arrangement. If I had a guest room, I’d offer that, but my place only has one bedroom, so the couch is the best I can do. It’s a fold-out, so you’ll have a bit of sleeping room. More than I imagine you’d have behind a dumpster.”

Nat wasn’t sure he believed this was a completely non-sexual offer, but he’d also never been given the opportunity to be someone’s house boy before. Even if it wasn’t a private room, getting a roof, four walls and a sofa bed, in exchange for possible sexual favors? A chance to save up real money without the stress of finding a place to sleep every night? Actually sleeping without wondering if he’d be woken up by an attacker?

It was almost too good to be true. “For how long?” Nat asked.

“If you are respectful and don’t steal from me, then for as long as necessary to reach your financial goals. And while I’d prefer you find a real job and quit hooking, I’m not your father or your parole officer. My only requirements are no drugs, no alcohol, and no bringing anyone over to my place, especially not a trick.”

Nat had smoked enough pot to know he didn’t like it, and he’d tried speed a few times, but hard drugs didn’t do much for him. He’d hated it when Austin slipped him things. “I’m not much of a drinker or partier, anyway.”

“Tricks?”

“Hell no, that would be crazy-rude. I wouldn’t bring anyone back there.” If he chose to continue hooking. The idea of a place to live so he could get a real job? Tempting but also dangerous. “Why? Why are you offering this to me? We just met.”

“Because you’re worth more than eating leftovers out of the garbage.” Zack’s eyes glistened. “And I owe someone a debt I can’t repay them. Maybe the universe will accept this as my penance.”

Fair enough. Nat hadn’t trusted his instincts about Austin, too charmed by Austin’s charisma and energy and promises of how special, hot, sexy, unique Nat was. He’d painted a beautiful picture of their life together, stringing Nat along until he was hooked too deeply to leave. Zack wasn’t making lofty promises. He was making a realistic offer to help Nat get his shit together so he could leave. Start over.

He didn’t have anything left to lose, not even his pride. “Okay,” Nat replied. “I accept.”