Unquiet by Melanie Hansen Page B

to feel right now.”
    The compassion was back in her eyes, chasing away the anger. “Go see him, Loren. Talk to him. Maybe you can help him when nobody else has been able to. Louis and I were very wrong to keep you from him after what happened. Even if we—weren’t around as much as we should have been, we did notice things, and there’s no denying the bond the two of you had.”
    Loren thought of Eliot during that last night they spent together, entwined, words of love gasped into each other’s ears.
    “Get away from me, you crazy son of a bitch.”
    Loren flinched. Eliot, back in his life. A second chance, maybe.
    “I’ll go see him today,” he whispered. Rebecca nodded and stood up, dismissing him.
    “I need to get to work.”
    Loren pulled a card from his wallet and laid it on the gleaming coffee table, next to the coaster that held his cup.
    “My cell number is written on the back. Call me if you ever need anything.”
    “I will. Thank you, Loren.”
    Loren showed himself out.
     
     
    ELIOT PACED his apartment restlessly, from one end of the tiny living room to the other and back again. He’d gotten home from the club and the first thing he did was stash his tip money in the freezer along with the other almost fifteen thousand dollars he kept there, cash he’d rubber-banded into bricks and wrapped in plastic bags. After that he attempted to sleep, but it was no good. He tried to remember the last time he ate, and decided he didn’t care. Maybe some vodka—he was just about to head for the freezer and grab the bottle when he heard a knock on the door.
    Eliot spun on his heel and threw the door open, not expecting anyone, and he paused in even further confusion as he took in the very tall, very muscular dark-haired man standing there. He looked so familiar, but the memory hovered just out of reach—then the man smiled, and Eliot knew.
    “Loren,” he breathed, and then he blinked, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Maybe this wasn’t real but just a cruel illusion; his stupid brain always played tricks on him, and the black demon would laugh and laugh in the background.
    Please let this be real.
    He opened his eyes and the man was still there.
    “Loren?” he whispered again, his voice tentative. The man didn’t answer, just opened his arms, and Eliot stepped into them, the years melting away as Loren gathered him close. For one glorious moment everything went quiet, Eliot’s senses wrapped in warmth and safety and comfort. He slid his arms around Loren’s waist and just hung on.
    Loren kissed the top of his head and then pushed him gently back, holding on to his upper arms and looking down into Eliot’s face. Had he always been so big? Loren was several inches taller than him, his shoulders broad, the fabric of his tight black T-shirt stretched across them. Eliot had forgotten how handsome he was, with his lean, scruffy jaw and full, sensuous lips.
    “It’s so good to see you, El,” Loren murmured, letting go of him with obvious reluctance.
    Eliot stood back and let Loren come inside, watching as he took in the shabby little studio apartment. The futon he slept on was unmade, and there were dirty clothes thrown over the backs of chairs and on the floor. Most times Eliot didn’t give a fuck what his apartment looked like, but now he was a little embarrassed.
    “Do you want coffee, Loren?” he asked, hearing the thread of anxiety in his voice. “Except I don’t have any coffee. The fucking store was out of the brand I like. What kind of coffee do you like? I like this kind of Breakfast Blend, but it has to be the dark roast, the medium roast does nothing because it’s like drinking water. So I found this girl who was stocking the aisles and I asked her about the fucking coffee, and she looked at me like I was crazy because I wanted the dark roast. I almost told her to suck my fucking dick but I—”
    Eliot realized what he was doing and viciously dug the fingernails of one