November Rain (2 page)

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.

“Of course.” The words flew out before Elias had time to consider them. There was something about Joe, a calmness and strength Elias wanted to be close to even though he knew he should stay away. Elias couldn't explore his feelings for men while he still lived under his brother's roof. But around Joe he wanted to. “I could come check on you tomorrow. Bring groceries if you need.”

There'd been a pizza box in the refrigerator, but nothing else besides a few bottles of condiments.

“You don't need to take care of me.” Joe pulled a container with some pills in it out of his bag and swallowed them with another sip of tea.

“Oh.” Elias looked at the floor, at Joe's red oriental-design rug. “I suppose your wife can get you the things you need.”

Joe coughed into his hand, his eyes laughing. “Oh, fuck, kid. You thought I was married?”

Elias shrugged. No. He hadn't really thought that, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Assuming Joe
wasn't
married would have been an insult. “I didn't know…”

“I'm gay.” Joe said it matter-of-factly. His eyes were steady on Elias, creating an invisible cage that held Elias in place. “I was under the impression you were too.”

“I…” He'd never said as much to anyone, though Elias had known it in his heart forever. “I am.”

Admitting it didn't make Elias feel any better. Instead, a thousand questions filled his mind about what exactly he planned to do about it.

“Well, good. We're on the same page then.” The smirk in Joe's eyes suggested he and Elias were nowhere near the same page. Possibly not even in the same book. “Wanna trade phone numbers?” Joe glanced to the table where he'd set his phone.

Elias picked it up.

Palm closing over Elias's hand, Joe tugged Elias closer. “Get over here.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Elias's neck. With a quick smile, Joe pulled Elias into a kiss.

Music swelled in Elias's mind, and his chest filled with warmth so strong he could have purred in contentment. Joe's kiss was nothing like those boys in college. No thrusting tongue or awkward teeth. No hands searching for openings on Elias's clothes. Joe kissed with soft pressure, unhurried and sure. His lips tickled with stubble, and he tasted like tea and milk. He was perfect. So much so, Elias felt dazed.

“Sorry I'm not good for anything more today.” The effect of his charisma was so strong Elias didn't worry that he wasn't sure what Joe was talking about.

“Can I come by tomorrow?” Elias's words came out in a whisper, but his need to see Joe again felt too big, too overwhelming to state any louder.

“Oh, honey.” Joe rubbed the back of his knuckles over Elias's cheek. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little laid up. Maybe we can try next week?”

Elias sat back on his heels. “I'll bring you milk. There's only a splash left. Enough for another cup, but not cereal.” His face heated as he thought about Joe in the morning, skin dented from sleep and eating his breakfast. “You don't have to get up. I'll leave it outside.”

Joe cocked his head, brow creasing into a rough landscape as if he didn't understand. “I suppose. If you want.” He chuckled nervously. “Now, give me your number so I can let you know when I'm ready for action.”

“Okay.” Elias gave Joe his phone number and took Joe's in return. Things were moving faster than Elias was ready for, but they'd see each other more and that was all Elias cared about.

“Well, I'll look forward to you calling.” Elias clamored off his knees and backed away. “And milk. Tomorrow. I'll just leave it outside.” He picked up his jacket, embarrassed suddenly about his enthusiasm. Joe might have a boyfriend and probably had several lovers. Most likely he didn't need another friend, especially not one at least ten years younger who worshipped him childishly.

“You don't have to.”

Elias didn't want to argue, so he went to the door and called, “Goodbye, Joe. And thank you again” before he left.

Chapter Four

Even the rain-slick streets couldn't dim Elias's mood. He turned up his radio, singing along with One Direction. He hadn't felt this happy since the first time a boy at a party gave him a come-hither look and slipped into a darkened hallway.

Elias suspected he was happier now, though, because he didn't remember the name of that boy, and his excitement had waned as soon as he'd smelled the beer on the boy's lips and felt the boy's hands groping in places Elias hadn't wanted to be touched. Joe was perfect, all the more so because being injured, he wouldn't want the things boys at college had wanted from Elias. At least not right away. Joe needed help and could offer kisses. He was safe.

Elias's phone beeped to show a text message from his brother, but Elias ignored it as he made his way home. The large, older house had been divided into two. An elderly woman occupied the other side, and though Elias had lived at the address a year, he knew her only from when she picked up her mail by the front door.

He parked behind the shiny Honda his brother had bought to impress his new wife then let himself in the front entry. As Elias jogged up the stairs he called to his sister-in-law in Amharic, “Sara? Are you home?”

She didn't answer, but that wasn't surprising. His brother's wife was so soft-spoken sometimes Elias barely heard her.

The Abrahams' layout wasn't so different from Joe's, except there were two small bedrooms leading off from the combined living room, dining room and kitchen. While Joe's place had white walls and mismatched brown and blue furnishings, Elias's brother's walls were draped in tapestries of cream, brown and gold. The smell was completely unlike Joe's house, though—chicken with paprika and turmeric instead of pizza and tuna fish.

Sara sat at the dining room table, staring out the window at the rain. Despite being indoors and alone, she wore a scarf made of rough-hewn cotton draped over her head and around her neck. She stroked it absentmindedly.

“Sara?” Elias pulled out a chair, frowning at her stricken expression.

She blinked, rubbing the heel of her hand across her face to wipe away tears. “I'm sorry.” Her Amharic sounded different from the version Elias had grown up with. Maybe Elias spoke with an American accent. “Your brother has been trying to reach you. Why haven't you texted him?”

Elias shrugged. He didn't want to speak with his brother until he could clear his mind of Joe. At the very least, he needed to be sure he was no longer giddy. “I'll send an answer.”

His phone showed three text messages, all demanding to know what had happened after the shooting.

I'm fine.
Elias's text response felt like a lie. So many things had happened that day. Elias was a different person than he'd been that morning.

“Would you like some food? Coffee?” Sara asked.

“Yes. That would be nice.”

Sara was usually happier when she was in the kitchen. Though today, Elias heard her drag in a sob as she left the room.

“Are you okay?” Elias asked, though he knew the answer. Sara had tried to put on a good face last winter. She'd spent time in shops, enjoying the bright overhead lighting and Christmas displays downtown.

This winter was different. The sadness that had plagued her the previous year had come back stronger. As soon as the days grew short and clouds blanketed the sky, her depression descended like a phantom.

“I'm fine.” Her voice held no conviction. “Do you think it may stop raining tomorrow?” Sara's voice quivered as she spoke from the kitchen.

“I don't know.” Elias wished he could tell her yes, but it would be a lie. Gray skies were the norm through February. “Sara, don't you think you should go see a doctor?” Plenty of people in Seattle suffered seasonal depression, not just those who'd moved from sunnier climates. “He could give you something to feel better. Or tell you where to buy those special lights.”

“No.” She came out from behind the kitchen wall, her eyes wide and scared. “No doctors.” Her hand was sunk into a mixing bowl, kneading bread by hand. Despite working at a store that sold packs of injera, she still insisted on making her own.

“Well, at least go for a walk after work tomorrow. You'll feel better. I promise.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I'll try.”

He knew she wouldn't. Just like she chose not to learn more than a few words of English. Sara wanted to go home to Africa. Elias saw it in her face and in how she moved. In how she didn't seem to make any friends at her job, even though everyone there spoke her language.

“Please don't tell Solomon I was crying.”

“I won't tell him.” Elias gave her a smile, wishing she could find the joy to echo it back.

Joe washed his face, the reality of spending the day alone and in pain sinking in. His boss had insisted Joe take a two-week leave of absence, so he was doomed to a lot of alone time.

Pain pills. He needed to take some. Joe hobbled out of the bathroom and made his way toward the kitchen. Someone must have been walking past in the hall, because Joe heard footsteps. He paused, listening. Whoever it was had stopped right outside.

“Hello?” Joe wondered if it was the FedEx guy, or maybe Elias from the day before bringing milk like he'd promised.

“You awake? Oh my God, are you okay?”

Joe's chest rumbled in a growl. It was Dan.

“What do you want?” Joe was on okay terms with his ex, but hell if he wanted Dan seeing him limping around in his underwear. “I'm not dressed.”

“Oh, please. I've seen you naked!”

Joe didn't know any of his neighbors, but he still didn't want any of them privy to his personal business. He opened the door. “Fine. Jesus. Come in.”

“Are you okay?” Dan followed Joe to the kitchen. Dan's sandy-blond hair was spiked more than it had been when Joe and Dan had dated, and his clothes looked twice as expensive. Despite his former fervor over supporting independent coffee chains, Dan carried a cup of Starbucks in each hand. “Shouldn't you still be in the hospital?”

At his sink, Joe poured himself a glass of water. He took his handful of pills and washed them down. “I'm fine. The shot was just a graze.”

He accidentally knocked his ankle against a low cabinet, and Joe ground his teeth together to stop from cursing.

“Don't be stupid, sweetie. You know every gunshot wound is a serious injury.”

“Of course it's serious. I can't work for two weeks. Then I'll be laid up at the office. Who the fuck knows when I'll be okayed for fieldwork again.” Doing his best to ignore Dan's presence, Joe grabbed some bread and mustard out of the refrigerator. He checked the freezer—he must have some meat in there somewhere.

“You sure you're not upset about the wedding?”

“Christ, Dan. I got shot. That's what I'm pissed about. Oh, and because you showed up without calling.” Emotion rose in his throat. Joe was pissed about everything—especially the fact that his leg hurt like a motherfucker and Dan was in the way of Joe getting some food in his stomach.

“Well, sorry for caring.” Dan set a coffee on Joe's microwave. “I brought you a latté, by the way. Don't thank me.”

“You know I can't drink coffee.”

“Oh, please.” Dan waved off Joe's aggression, though the tension in his lips said he was more annoyed than he was letting on. “I came to see if you needed any help. I'm still your emergency contact, you know? The hospital called me yesterday.”

Ah. So that was how Dan had heard about this in the first place. Nice that he hadn't bothered to come over last night, when Joe might have liked some groceries or some dinner.

“Can I get you anything?” Dan peered around Joe's kitchen, not hiding the way his nose curled in disgust. Though his income from staging houses wasn't any higher than Joe's, Dan had always had a taste for the finer things in life. “I have to work, but I could stop by later.”

Joe thought through all the things he needed. The list was too long to give Dan. Anyway, he didn't want to deal with his ex again. It was painful enough seeing him now—looking dapper with his new highlights and designer jeans.

“No. I'm good.” Joe could make it another day or two on his own. “Seriously. I need to get dressed…” Joe limped forward. “If you don't mind…”

“Are you kicking me out?” Dan put his hands on his hips. “Seriously, Joe, what is your problem? Look at this place. It's a mess.”

Joe's jaw tightened. “I'm fine.” He hobbled to his secondhand dresser with the Nordstrom bag on top. To hammer home how badly he wanted Dan gone, Joe pulled out the fire-engine-red underwear.

Dan cleared his throat. “Oh, well, I can go if you're busy.”

Just then, footsteps in the hallway stopped in front of Joe's door. Joe groaned—what was his place, the Space Needle? He'd gone nine months without bringing home so much as a trick, and now all manner of people felt welcome.

Unfortunately, Dan had already gone to open it.

“I'm sorry?” The voice behind the door was slightly feminine with a formal edge.

Though Joe was in no shape to be entertaining a twenty-something in his bed, he still smiled to hear Elias's nervousness.

“Oh. I see you
are
feeling better.” Dan made a little snorting noise under his breath.

“I brought milk,” Elias said from the threshold.

“Thanks, hon.” Joe called him a pet name to piss off Dan. “You're a sweetheart.” Joe went to the door.

“Call me if you need anything…from me.” Dan's expression had hardened to a scowl.

Joe smirked, loving how Dan's face had gone red with jealousy. “Thanks. I'll let you know if I do.”
Chapter Five

The man at Joe's apartment was around Joe's age and had broad shoulders and fair hair that had thinned at the temples. Elias wondered if he and Joe were lovers.

“See you next weekend,” the man said once he'd passed Elias and was in the hall.

Joe shrugged. “Yeah, I'll see if I can make it.” He glanced at Elias, eyes heavy lidded and suggestive. “I might be busy.”

Joe's friend snickered. “Asshole.” Then he went down the hallway, leaving Elias unsure what he'd overheard.

“Sorry if I interrupted.” Stupidly, Elias held up the grocery bag filled with milk, cold cuts and a few apples he'd thought might be good for Joe's recovery.

Joe stood framed in the doorway, wearing only sleep shorts. He was naked from the hips up, and his body…

Elias couldn't stop looking at the fur matting Joe's chest and trailing down his stomach. What would it feel like scratching against Elias's skin if they were pressed together?

“Ahem.” Joe coughed into his hand. His eyes sparkled with pride.

“I brought you breakfast.” Elias's voice came out a squeak, and he swallowed to force it lower. “You don't have to eat it. Maybe you already ate?”

“Really?” There was a hint of something in Joe's eyes. Confusion? Surprise? But he seemed genuinely pleased.

“Just some eggs and bread. Oh, and I got you yogurt, since you asked for some yesterday.”

“Thanks.” Joe gave him a smile that was slow and assessing. His lips were luscious and wide, forcing Elias to remember the way they'd felt on his own. “Come on in.” Joe got out of the way.

Joe's bed was unmade, the sheets crumpled. By the edge of his couch, Elias spotted a pile of discarded bandages. Though Elias itched to straighten the bed and throw out reminders of Joe's injury, he went to the kitchen.

“Should I put it on plates? I know you don't have a table.” As Elias searched the cupboards, his hands shook.

“That would be great.” Joe pushed into the kitchen.

Elias kept his attention on the food. “I brought some fit-fit too. It may be too spicy for you, but the smell is nice.”

“Mmmm… Ethiopian? I love it. Never thought to have that kind of thing with scrambled eggs.” Joe brushed up close as he reached across Elias to get a finger full of spiced injera. “Damn, that's good.”

Elias held his breath, unsure whether he was supposed to turn around. “Was that man your boyfriend?”

“Dan?” Joe backed away. “No. Not anymore. Not for a while now.”

“Oh.” Elias smiled. “Okay.”

By the time Elias set up the plates and took them to the living room, Joe had sat on the couch and propped his injured leg on the coffee table. Elias handed him his plate.

“Hmmmm.” Joe shoveled a bite of food in his mouth. He ate the way he'd kissed, with a careful determination. “So, are you Ethiopian? Or do you live near a restaurant?”

“Both. But my sister-in-law made this. I can make fit-fit, but it's not this good.” Elias took the spot farthest from Joe, not wanting to bounce the cushions and hurt Joe's leg. “I hope I didn't offend you…about the man you had over.”

“You didn't.” Joe's eyebrows drew together, but whether it was in frustration or pain, Elias couldn't tell. “Dan was just being an asshole. He brought up this thing I have to go to next weekend.”

Elias nodded.

“He's getting married.” Joe continued eating, but his gaze had clouded over like he wasn't enjoying the food anymore. “Next Sunday.”

“Are you going to be able to go?”

“Oh, I'm going. We were together ten years. We've only been broken up nine months, and he's marrying someone else.” Joe said it with anger, not sadness. Elias would have expected sadness.

“He met someone new fast.” Maybe for men like Joe this was easy. Elias couldn't imagine being so free.

“He met the guy while we were still together.”

Elias's heart dropped. “Oh, no.” Without thinking, he reached for Joe's hand and covered it with his own. They weren't friends yet, but they were close enough to offer comfort.

Joe looked down, blinking at Elias's hand over his own. Elias's fingers were darker and slimmer. Joe's were pale, hairy in small patches. Strong.