Page 28 of Joey

Ani wasn’t a touchy-feely person due to problems she had in her past, so she surprised him when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re back.” She stepped away, slipping her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans, which were undoubtedly black, though he couldn’t see for definite in the streetlight. “I’ve locked everything up for the night. I didn’t think you’d want an audience for your arrival.”

He hadn’t. “Thanks.” He opened the back passenger car door and pulled his bag free—the one he hadn’t left at Ethan’s house when he departed without taking anything he had brought with him. It hadn’t been much, but he didn’t need any of it. “I’m going up. Thank you for taking care of Joelle.” He hadn’t realised how much just saying the name would hurt his chest.

“She’s been fine. Wouldn’t come down to the shop, though.”

“Thanks, Ani. Sorry for leaving all this for you.”

Ani shook her head. “You don’t need to be sorry, Joey. You needed space. I get it. We all get it.”

He tried for a smile and stepped around her to the metal staircase leading up his part of the building. He could reach it by going through the tattoo shop as well, but this was closer. As he reached the top, Ani called his name again.

“Call me if you need anything.”

Joey waved a hand and unlocked the door to his apartment. He held his breath again as he stepped over the threshold, waiting for the pain of the memories to tear through him. It took him several seconds to close the door behind him, setting the triple lock into place so people couldn’t get in from the outside. Then he leaned back against the door and stared at the open-plan layout of the home he’d lived in for close to ten years—the first two of which Elliott had lived there with him.

It still held the markings of his best friend. The scratch along the laminate flooring where he’d decided to move the sofa by himself instead of asking for help, not realising until too late that there was a small but mighty stone caught underneath one of the wooden feet. The dent in the corner of the counter in the kitchen where he’d dropped a heavy-based pan as he’d tried to lift it onto the shelf. The faded rectangle by the window where he’d put up a picture he had taken to his new home two years later. Joey had left his own marks, too, but Elliott’s were too close to the surface.

A soft miaow sounded, and Joey dropped his gaze to the floor, smiling as Joelle pushed her head against his calf.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, sliding to sit on the floor. He picked her up, brushing his cheek against her fur. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

Joelle bumped her head against the underside of his chin. She’d always done the same greeting, even when she was a kitten.

More memories invaded. He and Elliott going to a friend’s house because they’d had a litter of kittens, and Elliott wanted to play with them. Neither had expected to go home with one, but Ryan could be persuasive when he wanted to be. Elliott’s apartment didn’t allow pets, but Joey didn’t mind having her at his. When the kittens were old enough to leave, Joey and Elliott had gone to pick her up, arguing for the entire journey about a name for her. In the end, Elliott had crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, “Might as well call her Joelle. Then she’ll belong to both of us.”

At first, Joey hadn’t understood what he’d meant until he’d explained that by mixing Joey and Ell—which was what Joey called him sometimes—they would get Joelle. The name had stuck. And now it was one more reminder of what Elliott had left behind.

“What are we going to do without him, Joelle?”

Joelle miaowed and rested against him as if trying to comfort him. He didn’t move for a long time. It was only when his ass went numb that he realised how cold he was. Ani had turned the heating down to the bare minimum. Enough to keep Joelle from freezing, but not enough to keep a human from becoming a block of ice.

Joey moved to stand, and Joelle jumped off his lap. He stumbled a bit before reaching for the wall to steady himself. Wandering to the wall where the thermostat lived, he twisted it higher, hearing it click on. It would take a while, but he could manage for now.

Heading back for his bag, he kept his gaze lowered, not wanting more images to surface, but he glimpsed a photograph on the side table. It was of him and Elliott decked out in rainbows from when they’d joined a Pride parade several years ago. It was Joey’s favourite photo of them because they both looked so happy.

He pulled his gaze away, grabbed his bag and aimed for the stairs. There were two bedrooms, both with en suite bathrooms on the floor above his living area. When he entered his, there was a slight musty smell from the windows not being opened for a week, so even though it was chilly, he cracked them wide. He dropped his bag onto the floor and sat on the bed.

It was strange to be home. Although he’d only been gone for a short period, in the grand scheme of things, anyway, the place felt like it was waiting for something. Joey shook his head and dropped onto his back, staring at the ceiling, lit only by the shine from the streetlights through his open curtains. Usually, he’d shut them, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

He slid his phone out of his pocket, pausing before unlocking it. He rolled to his stomach when he saw a message, though he hesitated to check who it was. It might be his parents, a friend or a colleague, but he wished it was Ethan, and he wasn’t sure he could take the blow if it wasn’t.

Clicking on it was the hardest thing he’d had to do in a while.

ETHAN: Please let me know when you get home. I want to know you’re safe. x

Joey exhaled, his entire body releasing the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. His shoulders and legs ached, his head pounded, and even his ass hurt. But with that one message, Ethan had helped more than he could know.

JOEY: I’m home. I’m safe. Thank you for everything, and I’m sorry for leaving you to deal with the reporters by yourself. x

That was the message he decided on after writing and deleting several versions of the same “Are you okay?” type question. Ethan would be okay. He had to be. Because Joey couldn’t live with himself if Ethan wasn’t. He hadn’t meant to blast into Ethan’s life and mess it all up. He’d intended to stay alone, moping for as long as he could get away with it. But then Ethan leaned an elbow beside him in that pub that day, and everything changed.

Now, it was all going back to the way it was before. Joey would hook up with random individuals, sleep alone, work too much and play too little. Especially now that Elliott wasn’t there to drag him out with him.

ETHAN: I’m glad. Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t change a minute. x

Neither would Joey. He wished he’d come without celebrity acquaintances. That he lived quietly and out of the spotlight. No one deserved to be thrown into that lifestyle, especially if they hadn’t been prepared for it beforehand. That was why he’d left Ethan. The reporters might bother him for a few days, but then they’d leave for fresh news.

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