by CJ Bishop
I want to go home. Please just let me go home.
* * * *
“Are you okay?” Gabe propped up on one elbow and looked at Cole. They had moved from the sofa to the bedroom a short while ago, exhausting themselves exploring these new levels of passion they hadn't experienced before.
Cole stared out the window as night pressed against the glass. “Where is he?” he whispered, his throat tightening. He twisted his head and looked at Gabe, a sheen of tears glistening. “Where is Abel?” he swallowed thick and turned his gaze to the ceiling, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I keep getting this sick feeling inside...like something is wrong. Like...” he licked his lips and the tears seeped down his temples. “Like he needs us, or something.” he shook his head and cleared his throat. “I know how crazy that sounds, but...I feel it.” he looked at Gabe again. “Why wouldn't he tell us where he was going?”
Leaning down, Gabe kissed him then touched his forehead to Cole's brow. “He'll be back soon. His message to his sister said he would see her first thing Monday morning, so he will probably be home sometime tomorrow. Maybe then we can find out what's going on.”
Cole turned onto his side and slid his arms around Gabe, drawing the man closer. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Cole smiled and kissed him. “For giving a damn...about Abel. I see how much you care about him.”
“Abel's a special kid.” Gabe rested his head against the pillow and looked at Cole. “Even though he's clearly capable of surviving on his own,” he shrugged. “There's just something about him that makes me want to protect him, you know?” he turned his eyes to the ceiling, voice lowering, softening, “Maybe it's just knowing all the shit he's already been through...I just don't want him to have to go through anymore. You know what I mean?”
Cole kissed his neck. “Yeah. I do.” God, do I ever. Gazing at Gabe, feeling things that he suspected were always there but just hadn't surfaced until now...Cole's heart broke for Abel. How would he feel if, all of the sudden, he couldn't touch Gabe again, or even be near him?
The knot formed quickly and choked him. Why did the kid have to meet and fall in love with Devlin if this was how it would end? What was the fucking purpose in it all?
“Cole?” Gabe murmured and touched his face, sliding his thumb through a tear path. Who would've thought this sex god could have such a soft, tender side?
“It's so fucking unfair.” Cole said thickly. “Abel deserves to be with Devlin. Why the fuck did it have to happen this way? Devlin is so...perfect for him. And the man...god, he's fucking crazy about Abel. This is such bullshit.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat of the mounting tears. “The kid can't catch a fucking break in this life.”
Gabe's brow touched his, the man's fingers sliding through his hair. “He will.”
“When?” Cole choked, again wondering where Abel was...what he was doing, needing him back home where he was safe, where they could look after him.
“I don't know.” Gabe murmured. “Soon, I hope.”
“I'm worried about him.” Cole whispered. “He's in a bad state of mind right now.”
Gripping his head gently, Gabe assured, “He won't hurt himself. He wouldn't do that to Savannah, just leave her in this life all alone. She's everything to him.” he kissed Cole's lips. “He'll be okay. Even if he feels like giving up, he won't. He's a survivor. He's already proven that.”
The man was right. There might be a tenderness to Abel that made him appear soft, but he knew the boy had a core of steel. But his sudden disappearance, without explanation, had Cole on edge, his stomach knotted up tight. Something wasn't right and he needed Abel back home.
“I know.” Cole replied. “I just wish he was back home already. I need to see with my own eyes that he's okay.”
“So do I.” Gabe admitted and kissed him more deeply. “So do I.”
Cole closed his eyes and pressed closer to Gabe's warm body, still tacky with sweat from their love making. Love making. It wasn't just fucking anymore. Listening to Gabe's heart beating just a bit too quickly, it occurred to Cole that it had never been just fucking.
Chapter Twelve
Weight Of The World
The limo rolled to a stop in front of Kaplan's building. Abel sat beside the man, eyes down, just wanting to go home and willing the man to release him—rather than expecting him to spend this night with him as well. Though he had every right to expect it—this was still the weekend.
“I'll have my driver take you home.” Kaplan said.
Abel glanced up. He didn't want to arrive home in a limo. If by some chance Cole or Gabe were at his apartment waiting for him, he didn't want to have to explain all of this to them. “I need to go see my sister first.” he said quietly.
“It's rather late for a visit, isn't it?”
Abel shrugged. “I want to see her.”
Kaplan nodded. “All right.” The driver opened Kaplan's door. Kaplan touched Abel's face, caressing his cheek. “I enjoyed our time together. You're a very special boy. I hope you didn't have a...horrible time.”
His lips tight, Abel shook his head slowly. “It was fine.” he whispered, averting his eyes.
The man released a soft, thoughtful—Hmm—then dipped in and kissed Abel's lips. “Next weekend perhaps we shall visit Italy...or a destination of your choice.” he ran his fingers through Abel's hair. “Whatever you want.” He stepped out of the car then leaned back in a bit. “Don't forget your new clothes, when you arrive home. They're yours to keep.”
Abel nodded. He didn't want the clothes. He didn't want anything from Kaplan—even if he needed it.
“Almost forgot.” Kaplan plucked out his wallet and handed Abel the bank card and envelope. “Take care of it now.”
“I will.” Abel murmured, fingering the card.
“All right, then.” Kaplan gazed at him. “I will see you next weekend. Please meet me here by seven in the morning.” A smile crinkled his lips. “Or Friday night, if you prefer. I don't mind leaving early.” he straightened up without waiting for Abel's reply, and spoke to the driver. “Take him wherever he needs to go.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kaplan cast him one last glance, nodded then walked into the building as the driver closed the door.
* * * *
A warm bed and peaceful sleep seemed like a distant fantasy for Devlin. He should be home, catching up on much needed rest, but he found he was spending far less time at home, and grabbing up more shifts at the hospital. The idea of being alone with his thoughts of Abel drove him to seek work over home. The memories were too vivid, and hurt too much to just sit and think about. The pain was physical, and at times nearly sent him into an anxiety attack when considering he may never get Abel back.
“Do you ever sleep, Dr. Grant?” A hand smacked his shoulder lightly and Devlin slowed, looking around. James Westcott, a male nurse, grinned and fell in beside him. The younger man was friendly, and rather good looking—a favorite with the female patients, and even some of the other nurses.
Devlin chuckled low. “I try not to.”
“Well,” James squeezed his shoulder. “One day you're just going to drop if you don't slow down.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” Devlin smiled.
James grinned then was gone, scooting off down the corridor with a level of energy Devlin envied at this point. He glanced at his watch; almost midnight. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to go home soon and attempt to force himself to sleep. Westcott was right—if he didn't get rest soon, he would drop. And besides, he wanted to be here in the morning. Cole had told Savannah that Abel would be here first thing Monday morning, and he didn't want to miss the opportunity to see the boy, and possibly talk to him. And just simply know that he was home, safe and sound, from...wherever he had gone over this last weekend.
He had made Savannah's room his final stop each time before going home, making sure the girl didn't need anything before he left.
Though at this time of night, she would surely be asleep. Still, it made him feel better to look in on her anyway.
The door to her room gave way beneath his hand, but the sound of a whispered voice stopped him. A frown crept across his brow and he was about to enter anyway when he suddenly recognized the voice; Abel.
Pulse suddenly racing, Devlin peered through the partially open door. A soft light glowed above Savannah's bed and the girl was fast asleep. Sitting in a chair next to the bed, Abel leaned on the blankets, holding her hand. Devlin's gaze swept over the boy; he was dressed much nicer than his typical jeans and t-shirt, and the faint scent of high end cologne tinged the air.
“I'm sorry, Savannah.” he whispered. Tears thickened his voice and Devlin's heart squeezed at the sorrow permeating the boy's words. “I'm sorry I'm not...the brother you think I am. I don't...know what else to do. It's the only way.” he laid his head on her hand and though his sobs were silent, his body trembled, betraying his tears. “I'm sorry...this is all my fault. All of it.” he choked and lifted his head a little, wiping at his eyes. “You...and Devlin...”
The sound of his own name on the boy's lips stilled Devlin's heart. The boy's despair tightened his throat and tears filled his eyes.
“You're all hurting...because of me.”
What was he talking about? Why was everything his fault? Devlin started to enter, then halted again at Abel's next words.
“I know...you want us to be together.” he whispered, broken. “But I can't be with him, Savannah. What I did...he won't...” his head dropped down again and he cried harder, body shaking. “I can't...tell him the truth.” he shuddered. “I can't.”
Just say it, Devlin pressed silently. What truth, baby? Just say what it is.
Abel cleared his throat and straightened up a little, wiping his eyes. “It's better this way...that he doesn't know. That you...don't even know.” he ducked his head and rubbed his eyes. “But you're gonna be okay. I have the money...I can take care of you.” he kissed her hand and stood up, wiping his face again. “I hope you never have to find out...about any of it.” The dim light of the lamp glowed across his face, illuminating the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks.
“I hope you never find out...what I really am...what I've done. But...” he covered his face with his hand and cried softly, “I didn't have a choice, Savannah. You're all that matters to me in this fucking world and...I'll do anything...anything...to take care of you.” he shook his head slowly and hugged himself tightly, whispering, “Even sell my soul to the devil.”
Rather than make his presence known, Devlin stepped back from the door when Abel turned to leave, and moved quickly down the corridor and into an alcove as Abel came out of the room. Devlin watched the boy discreetly as he walked the opposite direction towards the elevators, hand shaking as he wiped his eyes, glancing around anxiously—as if afraid of encountering someone.
Afraid of encountering you.
* * * *
The apartment door opened easily; when he'd been here before, the place had been locked. Silence met him when he entered. Nothing looked disturbed, as if the boy were here. But someone had unlocked the door.
“Abel?” he walked to the bedroom and opened the door. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, face down, fully clothed—and fast asleep. Cole approached the bed and, without really thinking about it, tugged off Abel's shoes, started to drop them on the floor, then looked at them more closely; expensive leather wingtips. He had never seen Abel wearing anything but sneakers.
Taking a closer look at the boy's clothes, he noticed they weren't his typical wear either. Cole reached down and fingered the fabric of the jacket. He'd entertained enough wealthy men to recognize the look and feel of an expensive suit. This was no thrift store, second hand cheap outfit—it was the real deal.
What the hell? He started to wake the boy then decided against it. The kid had clearly dropped from exhaustion—no doubt emotional as much as physical. Just let him sleep awhile longer.
Cole tugged out his cell phone and returned to the living room, then called Gabe to let him know Abel was home, and okay. He didn't mention the expensive clothes. Whatever was going on with the boy, he would try and get some answers when he awoke.
Back in the bedroom, Cole laid down on the opposite side of the bed and watched Abel sleep. The boy's face was towards him, cheek sunken into the pillow. Cole ran his fingers through Abel's soft hair. “Where were you, baby?” he whispered, an unexplainable unease gripping his gut. “What did you do this weekend?”
When Cole rubbed down his back, the boy shifted slightly. “Cole...” he mumbled in his sleep, and Cole scooted closer, sliding his arm around Abel's back, touching his brow to the boy's head.
“I'm here.” he whispered. A distant scent of a classy musk cologne touched his nostrils—again reminding Cole of some of their high end customer's.
Tears seeped out from beneath Abel's lashes. “I wanna...go home...Cole...” the words were barely audible, broken, as more tears pushed out. “I don't...wanna be here...please take me home...”
Emotion squeezing his throat, Cole pulled the boy closer and kissed his hair. “You are home, baby.” he whispered. “I'm right here. You're safe.”
Abel was trembling against him, but as Cole held him tight, whispered softly, he began to relax. He snuggled deep into Cole's embrace like a frightened child. “Don't make me go back...” he pushed his face against Cole's chest and cried in his sleep. “Don't let him take me...”
What was he talking about? Was he dreaming about the past? Cole swallowed thickly. “You don't have to go anywhere, Abel.” he murmured. “No one's going to take you, baby. I'm here.” he kissed his hair again as his eyes stung, and he wished Gabe were here as well. “I'm not going to let anyone hurt you...not ever again.”
Maybe he was just dreaming about the orphanage...or maybe not. Cole's stomach twisted as he wondered again where the boy had gone this weekend...and what had happened to him?
* * * *
The first thing his mind registered was the confining arms, holding him tight, not allowing for movement. The panic reaction was instant and Abel broke into a sudden struggle, shoving against the hard chest, strong arms. “Let go...” he whimpered, choking. “Let go!”
“Abel!” Cole's voice cleared his head, snapping his eyes open. “Hey...it's just me.”
Abel's heart thumped at his ribs, breath uneven. Cole's arm's loosened, releasing him, and he sat up, rubbing at his wet eyes. His bedroom. He was home. Last night rushed back in on him; going to the hospital to see Savannah, having the limo driver drop him off a block away from his apartment. He'd felt like the walking dead when he'd come in and hadn't even had the energy to undress before just falling on the bed.
He turned and swung his legs off the bed, leaning forward and rubbing his face. “What're you...doing here?” his throat felt raw, clogged, his eyes puffy...as if he'd been crying all night.
“I came over to see if you were home yet.” Cole scooted up on the bed. “Why did you just...leave on Friday? Not tell anyone where you were going?”
Abel rubbed the back of his neck, then cleared his throat. “Now I have to get permission before I go anywhere?” That wasn't fair and he knew it. Cole was simply concerned, not trying to control his life.
“Come on.” Cole spoke low then scooted across the bed and sat next to him. “Don't hand me that bullshit, Abel. You know that ain't what I meant.”
Abel sighed, ducked his head and slid both hands up behind his neck. “I know.” he murmured. “I'm sorry.”
The man wrapped his arm around Abel's back and leaned close. “You're forgiven.” he smiled and kissed his head, then added more seriously, “I want to know where you're at, Abel, so if something happens...or you don't show up when you should...I'll know where to start looking. When you don't tell me anything, I feel helpless.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Abel mumbled.
“Why did you turn off your phone?”
; Abel stood and rubbed the back of his neck again, anxiously. “I just...” What could he say? His cell phone wasn't international. Even if he'd left it on, Cole couldn't have gotten in contact with him. “I was...busy.” he said low. “I didn't want to be...disturbed.”
“Busy doing what?” Cole stood up.
Getting fucked. Abel shook his head. “It doesn't matter.” When he turned away, Cole caught his arm in a light, but restraining grip.
“It does matter, Abel.” he insisted. His eyes swept over his body. “And where did you get these clothes? This is an expensive wardrobe. And since when did you start wearing high class cologne—or any cologne for that matter.”
