Page 5 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER THREE

Chase is going to kill me.

For many years, Zack had possessed the means to help others get back on their feet, whether through an interest-free loan, a place to crash for a while, or a job reference for a position that never existed. He’d never thought twice about it. But in all those circumstances, he’d been living in his own place, making his own rules about who came or went. Right now, he was living in Chase’s in-law suite, which was attached to Chase’s home.

Even though Zack was paying rent, he didn’t have an official lease, and it felt strange to invite Nathaniel to live with him without running it by Chase first. He sensed Chase would understand, but still. They’d definitely talk first thing in the morning.

Zack and Nathaniel hadn’t talked much more in the diner after Nathaniel accepted his offer, which gave Zack more mental freedom to plan. Nathaniel feared public-facing jobs, because he was terrified his ex would stumble over him. Or that a friend of the ex would do the same. So, offering him a job at River Bistro was unlikely, unless he had some kitchen experience. And experience was a must. He’d never betray Chase’s trust by hiring someone off the street who couldn’t uphold their high standards.

When their waitress—and Zack appreciated how suspicious she’d been of him at one point—asked if they wanted dessert, Nathaniel said no. He still had food on his plate, so Zack asked for a box. He also ordered an assortment of pastries from the front counter display, since he didn’t have much food at the house for Nathaniel to eat. Zack spent so much time in restaurants, he rarely cooked at home.

Nathaniel was struggling to keep his eyes open by the time Zack parked in the driveway next to Chase’s car. The porch light was on, and Nathaniel seemed momentarily stumped by the sight of two identical doors on opposite sides of the small stone stoop. “Is this like a weird duplex or something?”

Zack chuckled as he unlocked his door. “No, the main house is over there. This is called an in-law suite. They were pretty common in homes built before World War II. Families could give their aging in-laws a place to live that was close enough for help when needed, but separate so they had some sense of independent living.”

“Oh. I’ve only ever seen them in movies.”

“Well, now you get to see one in person.” Zack let him in, turned on the main kitchen light, then disarmed the alarm. Nathaniel followed him, arms wrapped around his middle defensively, as if not quite trusting he wasn’t about to be dragged into the bedroom for repayment. “It’s small but serves its purpose.”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“The bathroom is in the bedroom, through that door.”

Nathaniel bristled. “What?”

“It’s simply the way the apartment was built.” Zack hadn’t thought through the fact that this wasn’t built to accommodate overnight guests for long periods of time. “I work a lot, so we won’t be running into each other in the bathroom that often.”

“What if I have to go while you’re asleep?”

“Then tiptoe as quietly as you can through the bedroom.” Zack stopped beside the couch, unsure of his decision for the first time. It had been impulsive, just like inviting Nathaniel out for dinner. “I admit, it’s not terribly convenient, but it’s cleaner than a gas station bathroom or a dark alley. I’m putting a huge amount of trust in you, too, by allowing you into my private space.”

“I know. So, um, is this like a hostel situation? I leave in the morning when you leave, and then I come back when you’re off work? That way I’m not alone in your private space?”

Zack nodded, surprised and pleased Nathaniel had come up with that himself. “For now, yes. The weather isn’t deathly hot, and there’s no torrential rain forecasted this week. I’ll give you my work schedule, and we’ll see how things go for a few days.”

“That’s fair. I mean, I didn’t expect you to hand over a key to a stranger.”

“I don’t consider you a stranger anymore, Nathaniel. You’re a new friend, but we are still getting to know and trust each other. I don’t wish to be taken advantage of anymore than you do.”

“Yeah. Okay. Can I, um, take a shower? Please?”

“Of course.”

Zack led him to the bathroom and showed him the contents of the small linen closet. “While you’re showering, I’ll find something clean you can wear.” He pulled a set of sheets and a blanket out of the closet. “And I’ll make your bed.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble. Enjoy the shower.” Zack closed the bathroom door behind himself, then stood there a moment, taking it all in. When he’d left work tonight, he had no illusions of picking a prostitute up off the street and bringing him home to…what? Take care of him? Kind of, yes. They were definitely not going to bang, no matter how sweet, sexy, and sensual Nathaniel was. His dick perked up, aware that said sexy man was probably getting naked on the other side of that flimsy, hollow-wood door.

With a grunt, Zack rummaged until he found cotton workout pants and a clean t-shirt. He left them on the bed then shut the bedroom door for privacy. Unfolded the sofa bed and made it up. He only had the pillows on his own bed, though, which would be a problem. Definitely needed to go shopping tomorrow for a few things. The apartment was not equipped for visitors.

He checked his phone for messages. Nothing urgent. He did send a text to Chase that dinner service went smoothly, and asked to speak in the morning about a personal matter.

Chase had a separate alarm system from Zack’s, with codes they’d shared with each other, and Zack knew his friend never went to bed without arming it. Zack didn’t always remember to set his, but tonight he did. Not so much to keep Nathaniel in, as to let Zack know if he fled. At least then, Zack could immediately check for theft and call the police.

He doubted Nathaniel would do that, though. Nathaniel was exhausted to his core and needed a safe place to rest. Zack truly hoped he could give him that, at least for one night.

Nathaniel didn’t shower for as long as Zack would have guessed, based on his time on the street, but he probably had fight-or-flight kicked in right now, and being vulnerable in a shower was a bad position for anyone in a new situation. A few more minutes passed before his bedroom door opened, and Nathaniel shuffled out in the clean clothes, which were baggy but still showed how dangerously thin he was. He also had visible bruises on his right wrist and another on his neck, previously hidden by the sweatshirt.

“What should I do with my dirty clothes?” Nathaniel asked.

“Well, we can wash them now if you like.” Zack opened a narrow door near the front door, which Chase told him had once been the hall closet for coats. Inside now was a stacked washer/dryer and a bit of overhead storage. “Cycle doesn’t take long, and if you remember to put them in the dryer before bed, they’ll be clean when you wake up.”

“Okay, great. Should we, um, keep track of things like that? Like, what I’d pay at the Laundromat, I’ll owe you at the end of the week, or something?”

Zack bit back his instinct to say no and considered it. A flicker of fear lingered in Nathaniel’s eyes, fear that still didn’t trust this offer was altruistic. “Would it make you feel better if we did that? Kept a tally sheet of things you can repay when you’ve got the cash?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will.” Zack found a notepad and pen in the kitchen’s junk drawer, wrote the date, then used his phone to check the price of a load of laundry at the nearest public Laundromat. Wrote it down and showed it to Nathaniel. “That okay?”

“Yes, thank you. Can you show me how to use the machines? I don’t wanna break them.”

He did. The rest of the place was pretty self-explanatory. “Help yourself to the fridge. The water from the tap is potable, but there’s bottled sparkling water, too. Not many snacks, I’m afraid, but feel free to whatever. You can keep your own food here, too, if you like. Tomorrow, we can get you some personal toiletries, as well.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Remember, we’re trusting each other here.”

“I know. I promise I’ll do my best to respect what you’re doing for me.”

“All right. I’m going to bed. I usually sleep with the door open anyway, so if you have to use the bathroom, go ahead.” If this lasted longer than a few nights, maybe he’d hang a blanket between his bed and the bathroom door for a touch more privacy, but that was for the future. Not a worry for tonight.

“And you’re sure you, um…” Nathaniel blushed. “Don’t want any company tonight?”

His dick betrayed him by twitching with interest. “I’m positive. Good night, Nathaniel.”

“You can call me Nat.”

“Good night, Nat.”

It took a great deal of Zack’s self-control not to close and lock his bedroom door behind him. But he also didn’t want Nat peeing in the sink if he had to go later, and he’d said they had to trust each other. Respect each other.

Zack still slept with his wallet and cell phone under his pillow.

* * *

Nat curled up on the end of the sofa bed and listened to the squish-wush of the washing machine behind the closet door, willing his body to relax. He was keyed up, prepared for someone to grab him, shove him, strip him, violate him for their own entertainment. His body simply didn’t know he was safe; his mind still wasn’t completely aware, either.

A few hours ago, he’d been selling himself for cash. Now, he was safely inside someone’s home, in clean clothes, with the inklings of a plan for his future. More inklings than just the hope that he could scrape together enough cash to get out of Reynolds. An actual chance to earn money without risking it being stolen while he slept. He was lucky the last mugger had only taken his cash and bag of clothes, and had tossed his driver’s license at Nat before running away. He still had that, tucked inside his sneaker for safekeeping. He’d have no chance of getting a bus ticket without it.

He tried to study the home, but it was pretty damned boring, giving no real hint about who Zack was as a person. No books on the mostly bare shelves, just a few knickknacks that seemed curated to go with the basic modern aesthetic. Basic motel-style artwork. Even his toiletries had been simple, drug store brands. No prescriptions on the counter. He hadn’t snooped in the vanity cabinet or the linen closet, though.

Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

The living room did have a wall-mounted TV, but he didn’t dare watch it, not while Zack was trying to sleep with his door open. The amount of trust Zack was showing him by doing that meant more to Nat than he could express. Nat could easily find a kitchen knife, sneak into the room, slit Zack’s throat, rob him, and flee.

Except no, he couldn’t do that. He hated squashing flies, much less causing harm to actual human beings. He’d never been able to hit Austin back. He’d rarely fought back ever, in his entire life. He was too much of a weak, beaten-down coward. But he had left, damn it. Austin had pushed him to his limit, and Nat fled to a friend’s house. And fear had sent him to the streets for a solitary existence in the shadows.

He’d become a ghost, drifting through life without living it, until his white knight saw him. Saw his loneliness and struggles and rescued him. And brought him home to his in-law suite. Nat would much rather be snuggled under the covers with Zack’s tall, muscled body, but a free sofa bed was nice, too.

Maybe Zack would want to fuck him in the morning, and that was fine. Since he’d given up his spot renting a room in a house-share, Nat was used to negotiating for his bed space. No reason why Zack should exceed his expectations and actually be different.

When the washer stopped, Nat switched his laundry to the dryer, set it, turned off the kitchen light, and finally slid under the covers. The mattress was lumpy with strange folds in it, but it was softer than cardboard, smelled better than garbage. He closed his eyes and dreamed of pleasant things, positive emotions, and woke to the enticing scent of coffee.

Uncertainty rolled over him until he remembered why he wasn’t still dreaming. The couch faced the wall opposite the kitchen, so Nat twisted around and sat up to see what was going on. Zack sat at the kitchen’s narrow, L-shaped counter with a mug and a laptop, and he tossed a warm smile at Nat.

“Good morning,” Zack said. “I hope the bed wasn’t too lumpy.”

“It was fine.” Nat rubbed his eyes, and then stretched his arms over his head. “I slept like a lump, actually. You?” Seemed like a dumb question, since this was Zack’s place, but they’d both had a bizarre night.

“I didn’t sleep very well, but I’m not surprised. Except for one intense relationship in my twenties, I’ve pretty much been a bachelor, always living alone. And when someone did spend the night, it was in a spare room, and my door was shut.”

“I’m sorry about the bathroom thing. I should have told you I’d just hold it.” His bladder began throbbing now that they were discussing it, and he started untangling himself from the blanket. “I don’t want to disrupt your life.”

“You haven’t disrupted anything. I’m not upset or put-out, I was simply answering your question. I try to be honest with people in most instances, especially in personal relationships.”

“What about business relationships?”

“Then there’s more room to embellish for the sake of ego stroking and making deals happen.” Zack stood, fully dressed in dark gray slacks, a white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a shiny leather belt. He pointed to his bedroom. “I folded your clothes and left them in the bathroom.”

“Wow, thank you. I should?—”

Knocking on the front door startled an embarrassing yelp out of Nat. Zack frowned then strode to the door. Pressed a code into the alarm system pad. Turned a deadbolt and opened the door. A tall, slender man with gray in his hair leaned heavily on a cane. He was wearing a fuzzy green bathrobe and matching slippers like a nursing home escapee.

“Chase, good morning,” Zack said. “My text said I’d call you.”

“Well, it sounded important, so I figured I’d walk over.” Chase shuffled past Zack, his gaze down until he’d gone five steps into the apartment. Then he froze and looked up, right at Nat. “Oh.”

Nat held his breath, stomach curling up tight, unable to manage even a polite hello. Had Zack invited this Chase over to join in? No, that couldn’t be it. Zack had sounded surprised to see Chase. Whatever it was, Nat had a feeling he was leaving soon. He mumbled an excuse about using the bathroom and fled.

Zack released a growly breath at Nat’s abrupt departure, the sleep-rumpled young man fleeing like a frightened rabbit. It was almost painful to watch. He shut the door and circled around Chase. “Coffee?”

“No, I had my morning cup.” Chase sat on the edge of the unmade sofa bed. “You brought something new home with you last night. Seems a little young.”

“He is young, and it’s not what you think. He obviously slept on the couch.”

“Okay.” Chase eyed him in the ‘don’t bullshit me’ way he’d had when they were together. “Then who is he and why is he here? You told me you weren’t looking for any distractions from work right now.”

“Trust me, I didn’t go looking. I kind of stumbled over him last night.”

“At a high school?”

“Ha ha, and no, he’s in his twenties.” Zack picked up his mug and took it with him to sit beside Chase. The stools here were too unstable for Chase now. He gave his friend a condensed version of meeting Nat and their arrangement, glossing over most of the personal things Nat had told Zack.

Chase groaned and flopped back onto the bed in a familiar, dramatic way. “You’re not going to try and make up for Brett, are you? By saving this kid and hoping he turns out differently?”

Zack glanced at his bedroom door, but Nat was nowhere in sight. Hopefully, he was being respectful of his host and not eavesdropping. Two months ago, when Chase got back in touch with Zack after a decade of silence, Zack hadn’t told Chase why he was on the road, traveling from city to city, why he was seeking something. It had taken three weeks of living here for Zack to finally admit to his greatest failures and shames, and the incident that had fueled his flight from Wilmington.

“Nathaniel is nothing like the guy Brett was when we first met,” Zack replied softly. “Brett was angry, eager to prove himself and to please me. Nat is just…broken.” The only thing Nat and young Brett had in common was being homeless, desperate, and young. “Nat doesn’t have the cruelty in him that I should have seen in Brett, but I was just…”

“Infatuated with a new sub?”

“Yes, and I’m out of that lifestyle. I don’t want or need another sub ever again. But damn it, Chase, I think I can help Nat, I really do.”

“So, if it’s not about sex or submission, what’s it about? Pride? Your ego?”

“A little, I guess.” This was one of the things he’d both loved and hated about Chase: his ability to read Zack, as if Zack’s entire life had subtitles that only Chase could see. It gave him an advantage, and it had also helped tear them apart. Maybe Zack could help steer Nat toward a better life. “I know this is your place, and I should have asked first. If you don’t want him to stay, I’ll work something else out for him.”

Chase held up a hand, which Zack grasped and pulled, helping Chase sit back up. Chase kept hold of that hand and squeezed. “If you tell me you trust him, then he can stay. Just be careful.”

“I do, and thank you.”

“He’s cute. Think he’d grant a dying man one last wish?”

Zack grunted. “Fuck off, and please, don’t make him uncomfortable.”

“I’m joking. I haven’t gotten it up in weeks, not even for my favorite porn.” Chase tapped his cane on the floor. “So, any ideas on a job for him? Other than his night job, of course?”

“I’m not sure yet. I know he’d prefer something under the table, so he doesn’t have to give his social security number or get a W-2. But I don’t want to risk the Bistro getting in trouble if someone finds out we’re having him bus tables for cash.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. If you wish to run my restaurants into the ground after I’m dead, feel free.”

He pinched Chase hard on the thigh. “Will you stop saying shit like that, please? It’s too early in the morning to deal with your morbid musings.”

“Morbid musings. I should write a book of poetry and name it that.”

“What the fuck do you know about writing poetry?”

“Not a damned thing, but it’s never too late to learn until you’re dead.”

Zack had walked right into that one. “You’re impossible. If you come up with any good job ideas, run them by me. Mostly, he’s limited by transportation, I think. Seems bright enough to learn most things that can be taught on the job.”

“Duly noted.”

“And speaking of jobs,” Zack said as he stood to refill his coffee, “did you look at the applications for daytime assistance yet?”

Chase blew an epic raspberry at him. “No. I hate you for even suggesting it.”

“As if your doctor hasn’t been suggesting it since your fall back in April. You know, when you called me to help with the restaurants?”

“And I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

Same stubborn old Chase Sampson, independent to the core, putting off doctor visits, duct taping bad cuts, ignoring fresh burns until a new one covered the old. Chase said working through the pain was part of being a great chef. Zack thought he was a masochist of the non-BDSM sort.

Maybe if Chase had taken his worsening symptoms seriously years ago, instead of brushing them off and explaining them away, he could have gotten on medication sooner. Slowed down the progression of his disease. Instead, he’d played fast and loose, until he’d fallen down an escalator eighteen months ago and broken his left arm. He’d finally allowed tests. And he’d gotten a diagnosis. He’d worked and adapted until he’d needed help.

Zack was forever grateful Chase had trusted him enough to be the person Chase asked for help. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Chase. He also hated Chase a little bit, deep down, for making Zack a witness to the final phases of Chase’s life. It would have been easier to get that eventual phone call informing him of Chase’s death, likely from Chase’s mother, who lived in Oregon and worried from afar.

But this had also given Zack a precious gift: the chance to fix things with the first love of his life, and to give them both closure.

“Yes, you’ve got me, you jackass,” Zack said gently. “But to run your restaurants and be close by at night. You can’t manage full shifts anymore, which means you’re going to start needing someone available during the day to help you. I can’t be that person.”

Chase huffed and crossed his arms, puffing out his chest like a petulant child. “I wouldn’t want you anyway. You’d smother me into an early grave.”

“Glad we agree. Look at the applications.”

“Yes, dear.” Chase glanced at the bedroom. “Are you giving him a key?”

“No, we agreed that he could be here when I’m home, but during workday hours, he’s out.” Zack grunted at the idea of Nat wandering the streets, working, instead of safe inside of a regular 9-5 job. But there was only so much Zack could do for him. “I told him no guests, no drugs, and no alcohol. He seems amendable to my rules.”

“Anyone would be amenable to a night off the streets. The real test will be if he comes back tonight, and he’s sober.”

“True.” Zack would place his bet on Nat being sober later tonight, based solely on a hunch and his own judge of character. But Zack had been epically wrong before. “Are you feeling up to hanging out at the bar today?”

“No, I called Dr. Crain’s office, and he was able to squeeze me in for an emergency session at one o’clock.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose. Dr. Crain was Chase’s psychiatrist of the last six years, but he’d been seeing the man more frequently since his diagnosis. Chase was an active, engaged person with a huge personality. Knowing what he was facing…Chase had admitted he’d been suicidal more than once.

“You had a bad night?” Zack asked, moving to once again sit beside his friend. “You didn’t call me.”

“You were working, and I got through it. I’m going to see my shrink later today. I’m a big boy.”

“You’re impossible, and that’s why I love you.”

A shadow shifted, and Zack looked up. Nat stood in the bedroom doorway, the clothes he’d slept in folded neatly in his hands, expression uncertain. Zack stood again, feeling a bit like a jack-in-the-box this morning. “Hey, I didn’t get the chance to introduce you two earlier,” Zack said. “Nat, this is Chase Sampson, my landlord and dear friend. He also owns River Bistro I and II. Chase, Nathaniel Hawking.”

“It’s always a pleasure to meet a handsome young man,” Chase said. He struggled to stand but managed on his own.

Nat approached and shook Chase’s hand. “Nathaniel. Nice to meet you.”

Not Nat, but the nickname was apparently reserved for friends.

“Feeling up for breakfast, Nat?” Zack asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer except bagels or a protein bar, but I did get that box of pastries last night. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you very much.”

While Nat inspected the pastry box, Zack asked Chase, “How are you getting to your appointment?”

“Ride share, obviously,” Chase replied.

“Okay, but who’s going to be with you before and after? I have to be at the restaurant.”

“I’ll be fine at the appointment, you worry wart. Watch out for this one, Nathaniel, he’ll mother hen you even when you don’t want him to.”

“You love it.”

Nat had an apple fritter in one hand, and he was casting about for something. Zack figured it out and grabbed a napkin from his takeaway stash. “Do you need help getting somewhere today, Mr. Sampson?” Nat asked. “I can go with you, if you need an assistant. I don’t have anything else to do.”

Zack blinked several times at the out-of-pocket offer, then turned to meet Chase’s equally baffled stare. “You want to help a boring old fart get to his shrink’s office and back without face-planting or otherwise embarrassing himself?” Chase asked.

“You aren’t old,” Zack snapped back. Forty-five was hardly old, even if Chase looked at least ten years older than his calendar age. The ravages of a degenerative illness.

“I’d like to help,” Nat replied. “I mean, I don’t have a job to get to, and I really do like to help. If you’re Zack’s landlord, then this is me thanking you both for a place to sleep last night.”

“Do you have a valid driver’s license?” Chase asked before Zack could properly parse Nat’s generous offer.

“Yes, I do. I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket, and I was in one fender bender two years ago that wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re certainly a verbose one, aren’t you?”

“If you mean I talk a lot, then yeah, my mouth can get away from me sometimes.” Nat tried to hide a flinch, but Zack noticed. He was probably thinking about the ex he was running from.

Zack met Chase’s gaze and nodded slightly. Chase nodded back. If Chase and Nat hit it off, and if Chase decided he could trust Nat, then their problem of a home caregiver was solved. And so was the question of Nat finding a job that could pay him cash. Chase had only just been approved for disability assistance, and while he could also apply for home aide through the program, Chase already abhorred receiving assistance of any sort. He’d probably turn around and use the disability money to pay his home aide anyway.

“Well, Zack will tell that I am an incorrigible flirt with a very weak mouth censor,” Chase said, “so if you can forgive my unfiltered moments, then I think I can forgive yours. I accept your offer to be my assistant today. I’ll even pay you for your time.”

“No way, I said I’d help for your generosity in letting me spend the night.”

“I didn’t know you were spending the night until this morning, so if I want to pay you for your time today, that’s my prerogative.”

“Don’t argue with him,” Zack said to Nat. “Even if you turn him down, cash will find its way into your pocket by the end of the day.” When Nat’s eyes narrowed, he added, “For driving him around. Neither of us are judging you for how you’ve made money in the past, and we’re not going to hold it against you. And I understand you’re suspicious. We’ve known each other about twelve hours, and you only just met Chase.”

Nat chewed on the nail of his left thumb for a few seconds, and then he angled toward Chase. “We met once last fall.”

Chase startled. “We did? When?”

“At River Bistro I. I was there on a date, and you came by our table to ask how the lamb chops were.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. How were the lamb chops that night?”

Nat chuckled. “It was good. I’d never had lamb before, or any kind of meat with a mint sauce. I was a waiter at the time, so my idea of a good meal was a burger and stale peanuts.”

“That still is a good meal. Don’t discount the healing powers of a big, greasy burger when you’re feeling down. Where did you wait tables?”

“Are you familiar with Tim’s?”

Zack’s hand jerked, and he sloshed hot coffee onto the counter. “The bar that blew up back in February? You worked there?”

“I was there when it happened.”

“You what?” Zack started to stand but stopped himself. What was he going to do? Launch himself across the counter to grab Nat and make sure he was okay? Nat was standing there, a red mark from last night’s scuffle darkening one cheek, but otherwise mobile and aware.

Nat picked at his fritter, shoulders stooped, gaze lowered. “I was scheduled to close that night with another employee. We had one customer left. I was gonna give him a ride home. Things went ka-blam. My left side took the brunt of it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

According to Chase, the entire city of Reynolds and its surrounding towns were aware of the February explosion that had destroyed a popular local bar named Tim’s. Investigators ruled it an accident with the boiler, rather than arson, but three people had been injured. The owners were in the process of rebuilding, and had even been thrown a community fundraiser the second Sunday in April. Zack had heard all about it from Chase. He’d driven by the storefront a few times, and had been happy to see an Opening Soon banner in the window.

“Well, you look damned good for getting blown up by a boiler,” Chase blurted out.

Nat smiled, but his lips were thin and it didn’t meet his eyes. “Broken bones and burns heal. But it’s been hard getting back on my feet.”

“I imagine so. Recovery isn’t easy, especially if you don’t have family around to help?”

“Right.” Nat was shutting down. Zack saw it in his ever-stooping shoulders and direct attention to his food. He’d done something similar last night at dinner when their conversation stalled out. Zack didn’t want to make Nat so uncomfortable that he bolted.

“Nat,” Zack said, “I imagine you’ll be wanting a few things from the drugstore. If you like, we can take a trip out this morning, before you have to drive Chase to his appointment, and before I have to go to work.”

“That would be great, thank you.” The relief in his eyes sent a wave of warmth through Zack’s chest. He’d guessed correctly. “I’d love a toothbrush.”

“Then finish your apple fritter and we’ll go. Chase? I’ll walk you across the porch.”

Chase was poised to argue he didn’t need an escort six feet across the stone stoop, but he caught the look Zack was shooting him. “The appointment is at one, so we’ll need to leave here around twelve-twenty to be on time,” Chase said.

“I’ll be ready,” Nat replied.

“Good enough.”

Zack followed Chase from his suite to Chase’s door, which opened into the laundry room. Right beside the door was a shoe rack and a sign above it that read: Laundry Room: Take Shoes & Pants Off Here . While the pants part was a joke, for their entire relationship Chase had been fussy about removing shoes by the door and not tracking the outdoors all over the indoors. It wasn’t as much a cleanliness thing, Chase always said, as respecting their indoor space. Zack had done his best, but it wasn’t a habit he cared much about when so many other things were going on. And he couldn’t exactly enforce that rule on sixty-odd people during his larger parties.

But now that putting on his shoes was sometimes a ten-minute task, Chase put them on in the morning and left them on until he was in for the evening. Or, like this morning, he wore his slippers until it was time for the greater world to see him. Chase shuffled straight through the kitchen and into the den to settle in his recliner.

“I can see now why you’re trying to help him,” Chase said. “He’s haunted.”

“He is.” Zack parked his butt on the wood coffee table opposite Chase, partly because he knew it would irritate his friend. Partly so they could be close, eye-to-eye. “He was vulnerable last night, so fucking vulnerable and scared.” As long as he lived, Zack would never rid himself of the sound of Nat’s heaving sobs in that alley. “I couldn’t leave him there.”

“I know. I love you for that. Your never-ending ability to see the good in people, even when others can’t. You did that for me once.”

“You already knew you were a good person with an amazing gift, Chase. You just needed someone else to believe in you.”

“Precisely. You believed in me, and I was able to show the world what I can do with a knife and skillet. I hope you can do the same for Nathaniel. Give him a chance to show the world who he is.”

“I don’t know if things will get that far, but if nothing else, I can help him get away from what’s haunting him here.”

Chase held his gaze for several long, intense beats. “Should I buy a shotgun?”

“Might not be a horrible idea, but I’ve got a Glock in a box under my bed.”

“When did you buy that?”

“Fifteen years ago.”

“You carried that thing across state lines when you were traveling for work?”

Zack winked. “Don’t tell the feds. But I did take a gun safety course when I bought it, so I know what I’m doing with it. It’s properly cleaned and maintained.”

“Good to know.” Chase picked up the TV remote. “Go, run your errands. Enjoy the attention of that sweet young thing, until he’s all mine for a few hours.”

For as much as Zack’s libido would love nothing more than to enjoy Nat in the privacy of his bedroom for a few hours, Nat was off limits. No perving on him, no fantasies, nothing but friendship and encouragement. Period.