Just Business

by Anna Zabo

  “We one-eightied, and somehow missed the other car. Ended up against the curb.”

  “And I drove us here?”

  Justin nodded.

  “God.” More tea. “Thank you for all of this. I know you’re not fond of me, but I’m not sure . . .” He got that distant look. “I don’t think I’d have made it home if you hadn’t been with me.”

  “It’s not that, Eli, it’s . . .” His turn to shrug. This wasn’t the time or the place for that conversation. “Anyway. I’m glad I was here.” Glad I could help you. I’m sorry I hurt you so much. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Eli took a final drink of the tea and set the mug on the coffee table. He looked up, face drawn and weary. “Yes. You.”

  So much pain in those two words. Justin couldn’t breathe for a moment. When he spoke, it was harsh and strangled. “Eli . . .”

  Eli opened his arms in invitation. He made no movement toward Justin. But the agony and fear in Eli and the tremor in his hands spoke volumes.

  How could he say no? Hell, he didn’t want to. Justin slid across the couch and into Eli’s arms, head against his chest. A hand on his back. One against his hair. Beneath Justin’s ear, Eli’s heart beat so fast, despite the slow rise and fall of his chest. Justin’s heart beat as quickly—he’d missed this so very much. The warmth, the sense of belonging, of everything clicking into place.

  Fingers grazed Justin’s cheek. “Just for a little while. I know you don’t want this. But—” Eli’s voice cracked. Something warm and wet fell on Justin’s cheek. “I need you.”

  Even if Justin had known what to say in response, he couldn’t have spoken through his tight throat. The ache in his chest was unbearable. Had he read Eli so wrong?

  Eli took a deep breath. “I’d known Noah pretty much all my life. We weren’t friends to start with. I’ve never been good with people. Too sharp, too cold. Too much of a know-it-all.”

  Justin shifted, peered up. Tears in Eli’s eyes. “You don’t have to tell me this,” he whispered.

  Eli brushed his thumb against Justin’s jaw. “I’d like to. May I?”

  There was the search for consent. Always that question—always giving Justin a choice. Stay or go. Listen . . . or not. Maybe if he heard this—the heart of who Eli was—he’d understand. Nothing about Eli made sense. Justin nodded.

  “I guess we first noticed each other about the time I was preparing for my bar mitzvah. My Hebrew was crap despite years of schooling—his was good, so he started tutoring me. I’m not sure why, but he put up with me. He wasn’t afraid. Shot back at all my quips.” He laughed. “Apparently, I was a scary little shit, even at twelve.”

  So much self-awareness. Justin shivered.

  “Wait. Give me a second.” Eli tugged at the blanket, pulling it out from between them.

  It was natural—so natural to slide up against Eli, fully into his arms and soak up that warmth.

  Eli drew the blanket around them. “You have to understand, both Noah and I, we were raised Orthodox Jewish. Well, I’m Sephardi, but . . . for all intents, Orthodox. You’ve seen the kids in the suits and hats with the tassels in the neighborhood?”

  “Yeah.” More synagogues than churches in Squirrel Hill.

  “That was me, more or less. And Noah. He was two years older than me, almost exactly. Our birthdays were five days apart in January. The year after I turned fourteen, we both realized that we weren’t just interested in each other as friends. We’d both heard the word gay, knew what it meant. Understood that we were supposed to get married, likely to one of the girls in the neighborhood, and have kids. But we wanted each other. Desperately.” His laugh was soft. “Hormones. Boys.”

  Justin couldn’t help his own chuckle. “Yeah. Made high school interesting.” He shifted. “I always thought of homosexuality as more of a Christian sin—but Leviticus—”

  “—Is in the Tanakh—the Torah—yes. Short form for most modern Orthodox is that same-sex attraction isn’t a choice, but gay men and women are supposed to get married to the opposite sex and have kids.” Eli shrugged. “Reform Judaism doesn’t give a shit.”

  “We’d been fooling around for a while. For our birthdays when we turned sixteen and eighteen, we decided to try anal. His birthday came first, but he thought it would be unfair for him to top me since he was older, so . . .”

  “You topped him.” Justin looked up. Color touched Eli’s cheeks. That was unexpected.

  Eli coughed and smiled. “Let’s just say that I learned a lot about myself that night.” The amusement faded. “Two days later, we went out with friends. Noah drove.”

  Eli shuddered once beneath Justin.

  “Wasn’t supposed to snow. Or maybe just a dusting. Something like that. It was Noah and me and Rachel and Milka. We’d gone out to celebrate our birthdays—someplace nice and not in Squirrel Hill. They had a vegetarian menu, so we didn’t have to worry about kashrut. I was in the back, with Rachel.”

  Another tremble ran through Eli and his voice dropped. “Up in the North Hills, some of the roads are pretty twisty.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No. It wasn’t. Noah was so careful. Driving slowly. Blinkers on and everything. But the truck in the other lane—it came straight at us. I—don’t remember exactly what happened. Just the lights and the sound and the heat and . . .”

  Eli stopped. Exhaled. “They say Noah turned and that’s pretty much the only reason I survived. The truck—it was one of those boxy delivery types—hit us, spun us, hit us again. And the car behind us hit us. There was an SUV behind the truck, too. Pushed the truck forward. We were crushed between them all.”

  Oh God. He’d seen the aftermath of a few bad accidents, the twisted remains of the cars, had nightmares about what it might be like . . . and Eli had lived it.

  “I heard them die. All of them.” The trembling started again.

  The only thing Justin could do was hold Eli. “I’m sorry.” Insufficient words. So meaningless.

  “I couldn’t move. Couldn’t help them. There was blood and metal and people yelling.” Another deep breath. “They had to cut me out.”

  More drops on Justin’s face.

  “I never lost consciousness. Not until the hospital. One moment, they were all alive. The next, all dead, but me. I had a couple of cracked ribs, abrasions, and a mangled leg. Lost some bone and muscle. A bunch of crap in my ankle will never be right, but I survived. I have no idea why I did and they didn’t.”

  There was nothing Justin could say.

  “I turned sixteen in a hospital bed. Noah was dead. Rachel. Milka. They were buried on my birthday. I couldn’t go to the funeral, couldn’t visit shiva. My friends—my lover—they were all gone, and I had no way to mourn them.” He laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Then I made the mistake of telling my rabbi I loved Noah. That we’d had sex on his birthday.”

  “Like . . . a confession?”

  “No, nothing like that. I—just needed someone to talk to. He was supposed to be trained in psychology or something. So I told him. Figured he’d keep it to himself.” Another hollow laugh. “He told my parents.”

  Holy shit. “That’s how your parents found out you were gay?”

  “Yup. So next thing I knew, my parents were yelling at me. In my hospital room.”

  No wonder Eli reacted like he had at the Silk Elephant. “That’s—wow.”

  A dark laugh. “It gets worse.”

  “How? How the hell can it get any worse than that?”

  “Because my parents did the math. On Noah’s birthday, he was eighteen and I was fifteen. Legally . . .”

  Justin sat up. Stared at Eli. “No.”

  “Yes.” Lines of anger cut so deep into Eli’s expression. “Of course, Noah was dead, so they couldn’t charge him with rape. Or corruption of a minor. Or whatever they would have nailed him with . . . so my loving parents sued Noah’s family. For my benefit, of course.”

  “That’s . . .” Unconscionable. Horrify
ing. “Holy hell, Eli.”

  The anger shattered, leaving behind something so raw, so broken, it didn’t belong on Eli. Tears ran down Eli’s cheeks. “This house? All the things you see?” he whispered. “The car? My education? They were all bought with Noah’s blood.”

  Justin swallowed bile. Swallowed a second time. Kept it together because all he wanted to do was double over in shame, but he didn’t have that right, not after this. He’d been so very wrong about Eli.

  “On my eighteenth birthday, I received a trust fund that contained all the money that would have been Noah’s—and then some. I tried to give it back to Noah’s parents, but they knew I had no part in what happened—hell, they knew I’d walked out of my parents’ house that morning and I wasn’t ever going back.” He wiped away the tears. “They had no other children. The least—they said—they could do was see that I was cared for. Especially since Noah had loved me. They asked me to keep the money. Get a good education. A good job. Do all the things that Noah couldn’t, in his memory.” Eli closed his eyes and leaned against the couch pillows. “That’s the entire story.”

  To live through that, to be constantly reminded by an injury that would never heal, an inheritance that belonged to someone else . . . “Eli, I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ seems—wrong.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” Eli cupped his hand around the back of Justin’s neck and Justin couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him, nor the instinct that drew him back into Eli’s arms.

  “Just . . . be here. Please. For a little while.”

  Justin whispered into Eli’s shirt. “As long as you need.”

  A hollow laugh. “No lies, Justin. Not tonight.”

  Now the tears were in Justin’s eyes. He spoke around the hole in his heart, the tightness in his brain. “As long as I can be, then.”

  Eli didn’t speak, just stroked his thumb against Justin’s neck.

  There was nothing Justin could do. No way to fix the mistake he’d made, the words he’d flung at Eli, the wounds he’d opened in both of them. The tears wouldn’t stop, so he closed his eyes, listened to Eli’s heartbeat, and tried not to think about how they’d both have to be apart for the rest of their lives.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eli let Justin weep. Hell, his own tears fell, though he’d shed more than enough in the eighteen years since that night. But Justin’s tears, his shaking frame, weren’t entirely about Eli’s story, and for the first time in a while, the despair that engulfed Eli whenever he saw Justin or heard his voice shifted away.

  Justin might have been crying, but he was in Eli’s arms and world felt right again, despite all the shit between them, the unanswered questions, and the words thrown at each other.

  He loved Justin. Desperately. Perhaps it was stupidity, but he couldn’t help it. There wasn’t much left in him but love. All the fear, the anger, the sadness had been poured out. Love and hope. That’s what remained.

  He stroked Justin’s neck, drifted his hand down to Justin’s waist, and asked the question he’d wanted to ask so many times before. “What did I do?”

  A hitch of breath and Justin’s body slid along his, deliciously so. “Nothing.”

  Fuck. A creeping sensation wormed through Eli. “That wasn’t a reaction to nothing.”

  Slow breathing. Justin didn’t move away. Quite the opposite, he relaxed into Eli, which was odd. Gratifying, but very odd given the conversation they were having. He stroked Justin’s hair. This had to come from Justin in his own time, not be forced out with a command or hurried along with annoyance.

  When he finally spoke, it was a whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I couldn’t stay.”

  Still not the right time to speak, even if he itched to do so. He pressed a kiss to Justin’s forehead.

  A tremble. “You . . . bought me things. Fed me. Clothed me. Offered me a place to stay when I was in trouble.”

  The bottom dropped from Eli’s stomach. This was . . . not his fault. But not good.

  “The only thing I had to give you in return was my body. To fuck. To play with. To—” Justin’s voice cracked. “Use.”

  That word punched a hole into Eli’s heart and his calm shattered. He sucked in a breath and looked up at the ceiling, tears returning. Oh damn.

  Justin had been paying him back with sex and pain. Didn’t mater that Eli’s gifts had come with no strings as far as Eli was concerned. Eli gazed around his living room, suddenly seeing it as Justin might—elegant. Full of expensive things. He wore a Rolex. Dressed in fine suits.

  Justin struggled to make ends meet. Shitty apartment. Drowning in debt to support his family.

  Eli let out the breath. He’d offered what he had out of love and respect and caring, and hadn’t expected anything at all in return.

  Justin stirred. “I—I felt trapped. So I ran.”

  Of course he had. All the conversations, all that had happened clicked into place. Every limb went numb. He should have seen this. Hadn’t because he hated acknowledging the wealth. Noah’s money. Time to grow up, Eli.

  “You let me go.” Justin pulled away again and sat up. He wiped his eyes. “Let me walk out. Didn’t force me back.”

  “I don’t own you, Justin.” Such thick words. He’d thought he’d been emptied of pain. He’d been so very wrong. His heart twisted and knotted into new and agonizing shapes. “I never meant to trap you. I thought you liked—” The bondage. The sex. The pain.

  “I do. I did. There wasn’t anything you ever did to me that I didn’t like.”

  But Justin had walked out. Felt unsafe and left. “The problem is me. Who I am.” The wealth. The status. Things he couldn’t change.

  “You’re not who I thought you were. To you, I’m not . . . a toy. Not a plaything.”

  “No. Never that.” Flesh and blood. Messy, lovely, tempting, but a person. Never, ever a thing. That idea tore his soul out.

  “You’d let me go again, after tonight. When the snow clears. Anytime. Every time. Again and again.” Justin hugged himself, shaking. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes. Always.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.”

  All air seemed to leave Justin. “You—” He shook his head, eyes too wide. “You shouldn’t—”

  Wasn’t a matter of should or not, it just was. “I love you, Justin. Have loved. Will love.” Eli shifted and sat up as well. “I only want your happiness, to see you healthy and safe. If not with me, then . . . not with me. How could I love you and trap you?”

  Those wet, bright eyes, the shock parting those lips.

  “I don’t need half of this.” Eli waved his hand to encompass the house. “And I deserve none of it, but if there’s anything I can do to make your life better—ask. Anything.” He was going to break again. Felt the pressure in his head, all the signs of falling into a billion pieces. At least he understood why he’d lost Justin.

  “If I asked for your forgiveness?” All tremble, those words.

  Oh hell.

  He had to hold it together. For Justin. For himself. Eli opened his arms. Justin hesitated only a moment before falling into him.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing.” Agony in his chest. He pressed lips to Justin’s hair and closed his eyes against the pain.

  Muffled words. “I made your life hell.”

  Yes, he had. But reactions like that didn’t come out of a vacuum. “What was his name?”

  A laugh that was half a sob. “Am I so easy to read?”

  “I’ve been in therapy more than half my life. You learn some things after all those years.”

  Justin tightened his hold. “His name was Francis. He . . . Well, I guess you can figure it out.”

  Enough, anyway. “Yeah.” He rubbed Justin’s back. “When you’re ready, tell me. Don’t if you’re not.”

  “Not . . . not tonight.” He sucked down a breath. “Too much.”

  That he understood. He was pretty overloaded h
imself. Eli leaned back against the couch, pulling Justin with him. It was going to be all right. “We can just . . . be here. Now. For a while.”

  Somehow, they ended up lying on the couch, Justin above him. “Good.” Justin leaned down and brushed his lips against Eli’s “Because I want now. And here. And you.”

  There was only one answer to that. Eli tangled his hands into Justin’s hair and kissed him like there was no other man in the world.

  * * *

  The way Eli kissed Justin left no doubt to his desire. Nor did the press of Eli’s cock against Justin’s thigh. He grasped the front of Eli’s shirt and pulled him closer.

  Fingers at Justin’s throat, working his tie loose. How was he still wearing it? Why were there clothes between him and Eli? He wanted Eli against his flesh without linen and cotton in between. Grappling at Eli’s shirt seemed futile.

  “Tie first.” Eli spoke against his lips, all heat and husk. “And if you tear the buttons off this shirt, I swear I’ll make you sew them back on while nude.”

  The things that came out of Eli’s mouth. Eli had Justin’s necktie free and the top button of his shirt open. He pressed lips against Justin’s throat and Justin rocked his dick against Eli’s hip in response.

  He needed Eli undressed. Wanted both of them naked. He tugged at the silky fabric around Eli’s neck. A real bow tie, not one of those premade clip things, so it unraveled. A quick flip and it was somewhere past the coffee table and out of their way.

  “Bedroom?” It came out as a gasp, because Eli had worked enough of Justin’s shirt open to nip at the skin over his clavicle.

  “Yes.” Depth to that word. Heat and lust. Eli rose, even as Justin stood, both still working at each other’s clothing. It took time to cross the living room, what with Eli’s mouth on his, hands pulling shirts from pants. Along the way, Justin took off Eli’s cummerbund. He pulled hard at either side of Eli’s shirt and sent silver-rimmed buttons clattering against the wood floor. A white-and-black puff of fur chased one, thumping back into the living room.