by daisy harris
Joe’s face relaxed into a smile. He looked paler than he had in Nordstrom, and his wavy hair was crumpled like he’d been lying down. “Hey. The kid from the Men’s department.”
A shot of irritation ran through Elias before he could identify where it came from. Ah yes—kid. At twenty-four he certainly wasn’t a child anymore. Though he supposed from Joe’s perspective he may look like one. “Yes. I’m Elias. Elias Abraham.” Unsure, he reached out a hand for the detective to shake.
“Joe Klamath.” Joe’s grip was firm enough to crush Elias’s knuckles.
Elias strengthened his fingers at the last second. He always forgot how hard American men shook hands—like they were planning to arm wrestle.
“D’you get hurt?” Joe looked Elias over.
“No.”
Confusion played across Joe’s features, so Elias changed his story. “Very minor. Not from the bullet.” He hoped Joe wouldn’t ask for any details because Elias didn’t want to create an elaborate lie. A small lie was bad enough.
“Well, are they letting you leave?” Joe leaned back in his wheelchair, the pain obvious on his face.
Luckily the nurse had taken a phone call and didn’t contradict Elias’s story. “Yes. I’m parked in the visitor’s lot. I could take you where you need to go.” Elias hoped that offer wasn’t too forward.
Unlike the nurse, who was ignoring their conversation, the orderly regarded Elias with suspicion. “It’s supposed to be a friend or family member who picks up patients.”
Joe tried to twist to scowl at the man, but it proved too painful, if the grimace on his face was any indication. “We know each other.” He gestured to the papers on the nurse’s counter. “And I’ve signed saying I won’t sue anyone if I die. So can I go already?”
The orderly was short, with a rounded belly and small eyes. He scowled like he thought Elias was going to take Joe somewhere and rob him blind, but apparently the man was eager to get rid of his troublesome patient. “Whatever you say, sir. Have a nice day.”
As the orderly left, Elias felt the strangeness of the situation. He willed his mouth to speak, but couldn’t come up with anything to say, and was glad when Joe broke the silence by chuckling. “Well, that wasn’t passive aggressive at all, was it?”
Elias relaxed into a smile, butterflies twerking like Miley Cyrus in his belly. “Should we go?” He nodded toward the door, unsure whether Joe had to gather any personal items.
“Yeah. I’ve got my keys and my wallet. The pants are shot though.” He gave an exhausted snicker.
He must not have been too badly hurt if he could joke, but Elias tended to think the orderly was right—Joe shouldn’t be left alone. “Good.” Elias darted a look at the handles of the wheelchair, asking with his eyes what Joe wanted.
Joe’s worry lines softened, transforming his face from its usual toughness to something luscious. “I wouldn’t mind a push.”
Elias nodded and took the handles.
Joe’d turned down the blanket the hospital offered, and now he realized that hadn’t been the best choice. The parking garage was open to the elements, and he crossed his arms and rubbed them, trying to keep warm.
“You drove yourself here?” He didn’t want to push too hard, figuring the kid must have had an anxiety attack after the shooting.
“Yes.” Elias didn’t add anything.
Joe didn’t pry. Most people were embarrassed as hell after a panic episode, even if the thing that caused it was completely understandable. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
“It’s nothing.” Though Elias’s words were little more than a whisper, they were intense enough to make Joe smile.
“No worries. I live up on Seventeenth.” Joe was flattered by Elias’s attention.
Elias stopped the wheelchair in front of a nondescript tan coupe. “This is my car.”
“Oh, okay.” Now that he was here, Joe wished like hell he had crutches. Inside they’d said he’d have to go to a medical supply store and buy some. He wondered if it would be asking too much for Elias to stop by a place.
“Can I help you?”
“Let me get around to the passenger side first.” Joe took hold of the rails and pumped the wheelchair to the far side of the car. When he got to the door, he gave a few experimental leans forward in his seat.
Motherfucker, it hurt to lift his body. Joe remembered Elias’s gentle touches at Nordstrom and his soft handshake at the ER—Joe had to be realistic about how much assistance the kid was going to be able to offer.
“May I?” Elias crouched, offering his shoulder. He opened the car door.
“Yeah.” Joe groaned. He may as well get this over with. The sooner he got in the car, the sooner he’d be home on his couch, able to watch TV and mope about having to call work and tell his boss he’d managed to get himself shot.
“One, two, three…” Elias lifted with his knees, one arm darting around Joe’s waist. Despite the pain in his leg, Joe couldn’t help but notice that Elias was stronger than he looked.
Joe slid into the seat. “I’m good. Let’s go.” He reached for the door, but Elias was ahead of him, closing it gently.
“I’ll return the chair to the ER.” Elias jogged to the driver’s side and opened the door to get the key in the ignition. As he leaned in to mess with the heater, Joe got a look at the top of his head—short, kinky hair, with drops of rain suspended like pearls.
He smelled good. Really good. Rich and sweet with a hint of cologne that might have seeped into his clothes while working on the sales floor. Maybe it was the car and maybe it was Elias’s hair, but something about the aroma brought to mind spiced tea with milk, and maybe honey. Something warm you’d drink on a cold winter’s day.
Joe turned to stare at the dank parking lot walls. He wished like hell he could get Elias on his back today or tomorrow, but that was out of the question. In a swoop of annoyance, Joe frowned. Fucking winter—Joe’d never spent one without a regular bed partner, at least not in his adult life. November sucked bad enough without a bullet wound to recover from. Desk duty and nights alone watching movies? Crap, he’d be so pathetic.
Elias hurried the wheelchair away, leaving Joe to wonder exactly how he was going to get around.
Fuck it. That was what painkillers were for.
“Sorry.” Elias reappeared, opening the door and sliding into the seat. He put the car in reverse but kept his foot on the brake, watching Joe steadily. “What do you need? Food? A chair like the other?”
He danced around the word “wheelchair”, and Joe was glad. “Crutches should be fine.”
“Should I stop at the store?” Elias drove like he shook hands, with a touch so soft it seemed effortless. The rain from that morning had slowed to a drizzle, and the sky was dark enough it seemed like twilight—no matter that it was actually three thirty.
“If you don’t mind.” Joe should call a friend instead of making Elias drive, but Joe had drifted away from the circle of guys he and Dan had been friends with. Meeting new people wasn’t as easy as it had been in Joe’s twenties. Most of the late-thirties guys Joe knew were partnered up or busy with work all the time.
“Of course not.” Elias’s radio played bubblegum pop as he drove, the kind of music Joe’s eleven-year-old niece in Denver listened to.
“So. You work at Nordstrom, huh?” Well, that was a lame way to try and get to know a guy. Though with a fucking gunshot wound, Joe was surprised he had the energy to make conversation.
“Yeah.” Elias darted a glance at him, the faintest smile lifting his mouth. Elias’s lips were gorgeous. Fuller on the bottom, damp and pink in the center compared to the darker mocha color around the edges. “I’ve been there over a year. I started after college, when I moved back here from Bellingham.” That was easily the most Joe had heard Elias say, and he could tell Elias was embarrassed. “And you? They said you were police?”
He gave Elias a smile that was heavy-lidded and flirty. Maybe he was too injured to mess around with Elias today, but in a week or two he could get that pretty mouth in action, see those dark eyes looking up at him.
Elias turned his attention fully to the road. He pulled into a small lot next to a medical supply store. Even though parking required his concentration, Joe couldn’t shake the feeling he’d done something to put Elias off. Maybe the kid wasn’t gay. Though he didn’t have an accent, Elias’s well-fitted clothes and extremely neat car might have been a cultural thing.
“Can I go in on my own? I think it’s best if you rest.” Elias’s forehead was smooth and high, and his expression helpful, but…mysterious. Yeah, mysterious was the word.
Joe had no idea what Elias’s deal was. Elias was like a puzzle, and it was amazingly distracting trying to put together the pieces. “Yeah. I don’t want to hobble in there.”
“Don’t worry.” Elias got out of the car but again left the keys inside so Joe could keep the heat on. “I’ll pay. It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t have to—”
Elias was already on his way up the steps and disappearing inside. Joe only had a few minutes to close his eyes and drift before Elias was opening the trunk and loading crutches.
“Okay?” He hopped into the front seat with all the energy and agility of a boy his age.
Joe tried not to feel old and broken. “Head up to Seventeenth and take a left.”
The medical supply place wasn’t far from Joe’s apartment, and in a couple minutes, Elias was turning the corner onto Joe’s street.
“It’s right here.” Joe pointed to the older, red brick building hemmed in by condos on one side and a halfway house on the other. A few of the latter’s occupants hung out on the porch, smoking.
Sometimes Joe felt like he never left work.
Elias pulled into a spot outside. “The sign says two-hour parking. Do you think I’ll need to stay longer?”
Joe couldn’t help noticing Elias planned on a long visit. The kid must be thinking he was going to get some action, and Joe would have laughed out loud if doing so wouldn’t make his leg ache.
“Listen.” He laid his hand on top of Elias’s, stopping him before he got out of the car.
Elias’s eyes went wide—fear of rejection? Or was he just wondering why Joe was grabbing his hand?
“I really appreciate you helping me out today. But—”
“I didn’t mean to be in your way. My apologies, I—”
Joe squeezed to stop Elias from jumping to the wrong conclusion. “I’d love to see you again. Some time when I’m feeling up to it.” He smirked, flirting unabashedly to let Elias know he was interested, just not today.
“Up to it?” Elias’s tall, smooth forehead crinkled in the center as he considered those words. “You don’t need to offer me food.”
Now it was Joe’s turn to be confused. “Food?”
Elias’s expression was unfathomable. “I don’t expect you to wait on me. I just want to make sure you get upstairs safely.” When Joe didn’t respond, Elias added, “I could cook something for you. If you think you won’t be able to for yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.” Joe pulled his hand away. He had no idea why Elias insisted on being opaque. Weren’t young guys today supposed to be open about sex? “If you help me up the stairs, I can get down the hall to my apartment on my own.”
“Okay.” Elias’s lips twitched—a frown, but a small one.
Joe hoped he hadn’t hurt the guy’s feelings too badly.
When Elias came around to Joe’s side with crutches, Joe hoisted himself without help. Once he was upright, his leg hurt in a dull throb. “I think I’m good…” With careful steps he made his way up the sidewalk and into the building. Elias’s hand rested on Joe’s back. Not helping, exactly, but it was nice to know that someone was standing there if Joe tripped.
The stairs were tricky. Without Joe having to ask, Elias was right next to him, shoulder under his arm. The stairwell smelled like mildew and the increasingly strong scent of Joe’s sweat. Deodorant or not, he was wet under his clothes from a combination of exertion and pain by the time they got to the top.
“Which direction?” Elias shifted, stretching his shoulders. Joe was no lightweight.
“That way.” Joe wanted to explain that he hadn’t always lived in a rundown building full of studio apartments. He’d had a life not too long ago—a dog he shared with his boyfriend, a townhouse he’d paid part of the mortgage on, furniture that wasn’t cheap secondhand stuff he’d scrabbled together.
“You want to lean on me or go alone?”
Joe huffed out a sigh. Either was going to be uncomfortable, but he supposed his leg hurt less when Elias was at his side. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
After a bit more huffing and dragging, they got to Joe’s door and inside his apartment. Elias probably didn’t have time to see what a dump it was because he was too busy getting Joe across the room to his couch.
Joe half-fell, half-sat, eyes scrunched tight as he muttered every curse word he could think of.
Elias winced like he was in pain himself. “I’m so sorry you’re hurt.”
Joe shrugged off his concern. There was something in Elias’s dark eyes that was too straightforward—like he couldn’t have been sarcastic if he wanted to.
“I’m okay.” Joe reached for a cushion.
“I know you wanted your privacy…”
He looked so nervous that Joe felt guilty for getting annoyed about the cooking comment. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It just hurts.” As if summoned, pain washed over him. No wonder he always tried to ignore shit that bothered him. Admitting things always made them worse.
“Are you sure I can’t get you something? Water? Something to eat?” Elias’s face softened as he spoke. “A cup of tea? Do you have medicines to take?”
“Yeah. I do.” Joe had a couple days’ supply. After that, he’d have to find some way of getting to the drugstore. “But I don’t want to keep you.”
“I don’t have anything else to do. I was given the rest of the day off work.” Elias looked at the floor shyly.
“Well, if you don’t mind…” Joe wasn’t used to asking for stuff, and he tried to figure out which of the things he wanted would be reasonable. “Tea would be great. With milk. It’s in the cupboard over the fridge, and cups are on the hangers.”
His kitchen wasn’t large enough to have trouble navigating, but Joe still felt weird sending Elias in there alone. The cupboards, stove, fridge and sink were behind a section of wall, in an alcove but not a room. Considering Joe’s bed was only eight feet from the couch, technically Elias was in his bedroom already.
Normally when a guy as hot as Elias made it to within spitting distance of Joe’s bed, they’d be naked and spread-eagled in the time it took to say, Yes, sir. Elias being in the kitchen cooking instead was strange enough to make Joe question his sex appeal.
Shaking off the awkward feeling of inadequacy, Joe focused on what needed to get done. Pills, then sleep. “Can you grab me a yogurt too?” Joe’s gut wasn’t going to like having opiates and antibiotics hit it at the same time no matter how many dairy products he sent down the chute along with them. Damn sensitive stomach. His doc had said at his last appointment Joe had to be careful so he didn’t develop an ulcer.
“Sure. Would you like a sandwich? I see you have bread.”
Joe wasn’t sure if he had any sandwich meat, but the more he ate with the pills, the less likely he was to get heartburn. “Yeah. If
you can.” The sound of cabinets being opened carried from the kitchen, and for the moment Joe stopped trying to figure out why there was a handsome young man in his house making him food. Maybe Elias was into that random-acts-of-kindness thing Joe read about on hippie bumper stickers.
In his line of work, random acts of kindness wasn’t something he saw too often. Occasionally he came across karma is a bitch, but even that was rare.
“Thanks,” Joe called into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve all the niceness Elias was throwing his way, but the least Joe could do was be appreciative. The fucking could come later. “That would be great.”
Chapter Three
Elias hummed under his breath as he mixed tuna fish with the mayonnaise he found in the refrigerator. The sandwich smelled exotic and aggressively American—so different from the spices, meat and sourdough Elias ate with his family. Though he liked pizza and burgers—after all, he’d lived his whole life in the States—Elias had never managed to develop a liking for fish. No matter how it was prepared, it tasted too foreign.
The sandwich matched the rest of Joe’s apartment, though, simple and comfortable. Joe’s soft-looking couch sat on top of a small rug in front of a television. Elias imagined Joe spent his evenings lounging as he was now—legs up on the coffee table, watching sports, or maybe movies.
Elias wondered if he had someone to watch with, or if he lived alone. It seemed rude to ask, so Elias put the sandwich and the tub of yogurt on the side of the couch and handed Joe the tea.
Their hands touched in the transfer, and Joe’s eyes crinkled in a smile. Like those nights in darkened corners of parties at school, the air felt full of possibilities. Elias stepped back before he could give Joe the wrong idea. Or perhaps the right one.
“I should go.”
“Well, thanks for the ride.” Joe rubbed his chin where stubble had formed. “Can I ask you something?”
Elias put his hands in his pockets. “Yes?”
“Do you want to see me again?” Joe’s hands were at his sides, pressing down, as if he wished he could ask the question standing.
