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"You mean the apartment don't come with one?" Lark's
teasing came as a welcome surprise; he'd always seemed
serious before. Jeremy empathized with that too good to
be true feeling. Only time and slowly building trust
would erase years' worth of suspicion.
Fallen Angel 118
They stepped outside, climbing up the flight of stairs
to the apartment. The lower portion of the staircase
flaked white paint chips, the upper portion remained
new and as yet unpainted. Darn. Jeremy forgot he'd
promised to slap on a new coat of paint. He skipped up
the stairs effortlessly, unlike his initial trip up, slung
over Noah's shoulder. If Lark hadn't been present, he'd
fake a limp, hopefully earning a laugh and another
fireman's carry. After the embarrassment died down
with regard to that night, he'd replayed the event in his
mind over and over, getting scolded by a teacher the
next day for not paying attention. He'd never told Noah
about being busted in class.
Lark took one step at a time, clinging to the railing,
winded and tired from the effort. Noah brought up the
rear.
A brand-new door matched the brand-new landing.
Jeremy keyed open the series of locks Noah insisted on,
muttering, "Paranoid." When it'd mattered, all the locks
in the world wouldn't have helped. His former lover and
aspiring pimp, Trent, had sent thugs to collect him. He
recalled his terror when those locks gave way to the
men's pounding. In his memories the door splintered and
two toughs hauled him, kicking and screaming, down
the stairs to throw him into a trunk, trussed up like a
Christmas turkey.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, and when he
reopened them, an intact door stood before him. Over,
it's over. Those guys can't hurt you anymore.
The door opened on a small studio apartment. "It's
not much& " It'd seemed like the Hilton after spending
months living in a flooded basement, not that Jeremy
cared to remind Lark about being homeless.
"It's better than I got now," Lark finished for him.
Okay, no reminders needed, apparently.
The living area held a couch and end table, and the
kitchen contained a mini-fridge and a hotplate. A stack
of folded blankets nestled beneath a window. Jeremy
missed the trunk that used to serve as a coffee table. One
of Trent's cronies had reduced it to matchsticks when
Fallen Angel 119
they'd burst in. A chill ran up Jeremy's spine. That guy
sat in prison now, and Trent was dead. Don't think about
it, don't think about it. Don't see his dead eyes staring at
you! Without consciously making a decision to do so,
Jeremy found himself pressed up against Noah,
shouldering an arm up to wriggle beneath. Much better.
Feeling more at ease after a few moments of
reassuring contact, Jeremy whirled around the room in a
flurry of motion, opening doors and drawers to show
what lay within, wanting to get Lark's job offer over
with and reward himself for a good deed with some
alone time with Noah. Besides, although they hadn't
truly fought today, the tension from earlier deserved
make-up sex, right?
Memories, both bad and good, lurked in every corner
of the apartment, and Jeremy recalled the moment he'd
first seen in the place, hanging upside down over Noah's
shoulder, and how tenderly Noah had treated his
sprained ankle. "The couch folds out into a pretty comfy
bed, and there's plenty of hot water." Another memory
brought a blush. "I'd make sure to prop something
against the bathroom door when anyone else is here if I
were you. It has a tendency to swing open at the worst
possible times."
"Dang, I should fix that," Noah said. "Although the
faulty latch does have advantages." He wiggled his
brows, a hint that he remembered that morning too,
when Jeremy'd accidentally given him a show -- though
not the show Jeremy would have put on if aware of his
audience.
The reminder danced between Jeremy and Noah,
igniting a spark that'd best be kept at a smolder until
they got home.
"I'll take it," Lark said, from a million miles away.
Jeremy hoped Lark didn't take offense at how quickly
they carted him back to the center in their rush to get
home, where he did his damnedest to exhaust Noah into
a good night's sleep. The doubts and fears could wait;
they'd still be hanging around in the morning.
Fallen Angel 120
Chapter Twelve
Doc paused, staring at the papers before him. He
didn't want to do this; he really did not want to do this.
Fear of another attack leaving him prone on the barn
floor where his body might not be discovered for weeks
finally forced his hand. Time to face reality. Gusting out
a resigned sigh, he bowed his head over the documents,
signing away rights to his much loved refuge. Visions of
rabbit hunting, horseback riding, and tending the herb
garden out back flashed before his eyes, disappearing in
an instant.
He glanced around his tiny sitting area, worlds apart [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]