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Evan hopped out of the booth as Jeremy stood more slowly, his face chalky under his tan. Evan grabbed Jeremy’s jacket, then reached for him, half-expecting Jeremy to push him away, but, instead, he reached back.
Evan slipped his right arm under Jeremy’s left one, supporting some of his weight. He couldn’t suppress the shiver as the sides of their bodies pressed together, but he was too worried about Jeremy to focus on it for long. He glanced around the restaurant looking for a route to the exit that wouldn’t take them right past Stephen. “If you’re ready, we can go this way,” he pointed with his free hand.
Jeremy nodded, lips tightening. “Thanks.”
Evan felt guilty for not saying goodbye to Russ or Stephen, but Jeremy needed him. It’s nice to be needed, he thought, although he hated that Jeremy was in so much pain. They made it out of the restaurant without attracting Stephen’s attention, and once they were outside, Evan carefully helped Jeremy to a nearby bench. “Do you have a car here?”
“Don’t drive. Took MARTA.” He pointed at the bus stop sign near the bench. Evan peered at the sign and realized it would be at least twenty minutes before the next bus came.
“I’ll drive you,” he said firmly, not wanting Jeremy to argue. “Let me run and get my car; it’s a couple blocks away.”
Jeremy grunted in response. Evan took off as if his life depended on it, but despite the running he’d been doing lately, his lungs ached and his legs burned by the time he made it two blocks, up a flight of stairs, and arrived at his car. He panted, leaning against it for a second before he unlocked the door.
When Evan pulled up in front of the restaurant, Jeremy was hunched over, head in his hands. Evan was out of the car and standing in front of him before Jeremy lifted his head.
“Jesus, kid, you didn’t have to kill yourself.” Jeremy’s tone was gruff, but there was something else to it too, as if he was grudgingly thankful, which made Evan feel good.
Getting into the car seemed to cause Jeremy more pain, but he managed to grunt his address at Evan, who put it into his phone. He drove carefully, not wanting to jostle the man any more than he had to. When Evan pulled up to a quiet apartment complex in Bucktown, Jeremy’s eyes were closed. They fluttered open, dazed, bewildered, as if he had no idea who Evan was.
“Is this the right place? I swear everything is called Peachtree something or other in Atlanta.”
Jeremy sat up and looked around, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah, you did good, kid. Sorry I dozed off. The meds make me sleepy, but at least, they’re starting to kick in.” He reached for the door handle. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“Let me help you in,” Evan blurted out.
Jeremy hesitated for a second then nodded. “Okay.”
Evan shut off the engine, got out of the car, and hurried around to the side door. Jeremy stood with a groan, fingers going white where he gripped the top of the door for leverage. He didn’t protest when Evan slipped an arm under his for support.
The apartment complex was nice, with low, two-story buildings that looked freshly painted with the parking spot right in front. Jeremy’s place was on the first floor, so it was an easy walk to get in—Evan wondered if the design was intentional—and once they were inside, Jeremy made a beeline for the sofa. He groaned as he lowered himself onto his right side.
“Thanks for doing this, kid. You can go now.”
Evan paused, unsure if he should leave or not. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Jeremy shoved a pillow under his head and gave Evan a sad smile. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with this on my own for a lot of years. I’ll be fine.”
“But you don’t have to,” Evan protested as he hung Jeremy’s suit jacket on the back of a kitchen chair. “Tell me what you need.”
“Some water and Gatorade would be good—that’s in the fridge—and I’ll need the trash can over there.” He pointed, and Evan scurried to get what he’d asked for before he changed his mind. When he came back, Jeremy had kicked his shoes off and stretched out on the long couch. “I’ll drink a little water now, but leave the rest on the floor by me. Sometimes the meds make me puke.”
Evan did as he asked. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“Nah.” Jeremy wedged a pillow between his thighs and let out a long, shuddering sigh. “I appreciate it though. You’re a sweet kid, Evan. Be patient and you’ll find some nice guy who will treat you right.” By the end, his words had begun to slur, and his eyelids dipped a few times. “Meant what I said. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Wish ... wish I deserved someone like you.”
“You could give it a chance,” Evan whispered, and realized the scarred, hurting man was out completely now. Evan chewed his lip before leaning in. His fingers hovered over Jeremy’s cheek, remembering the feel of the stubbled skin under his fingertips when he’d been brave enough to touch Jeremy at the restaurant. He wanted to feel it again, smooth away the tight lines around his mouth and the furrows between his eyebrows.
He stepped back instead, looking around for a piece of paper. Maybe the night had taken an odd turn, but he liked Jeremy. Liked him a lot. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw him. He fumbled in his pockets, found the receipt for the parking garage, and saw a pen on a table near the door. He scribbled a note and left his phone number, carefully setting it on top of the stack of mail.
As he walked out the door, he glanced back, looking at Jeremy sleeping. It was up to him now; if he wanted to see Evan again, he had the number. Evan tried not to be hopeful—because what had that ever gotten him but disappointment before?—but he felt it anyway, like a tiny bright light in the center of his chest that wouldn’t go away.