Page 52 of The Guy in the Alley

He sniffled and wiped at his cheeks. “I-I got a job. I finally got a job.”

I didn’t know what cracked my chest wide open more, the good news or how emotional it made him.

“That’s…” I had to clear my throat and push back my own emotions. “That’s incredible. What’s the job?”

He sniffled again, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

I didn’t fucking care.

“It, uh…” He took a deep breath, and I dropped my stare. Shit. I couldn’t go lower than his stomach. That’d be weird. So I let my hands go north instead, and I rubbed his neck. “It’s—they… I applied for a job there a while back, but they never gave me an answer,” he croaked. “Then they called me earlier this week and asked if I would be interested in another position.”

“Doing what?”

He seemed to come to; he glanced around us, maybe now acknowledging what I was doing for the first time, and he poured a little bit of body wash into his hand. “Maintenance in residential buildings around the city.”

Well, shit. That was great.

“It’s full time,” he added, making quick work of washing his hair. And beard. “I start on Monday, and I g-get a company car to get around.” The moment the last word left his mouth, he swayed and had to steady himself with a hand on the wall, and it killed my smile before it could break out fully.

“Okay, let’s get you ready for bed.” I grabbed the showerhead and moved it over his head and down his body.

Of course that was the moment he chose to wash his cock, when he could barely stand. But…I’d seen this before. Not…not actually seen it, but I knew getting clean was high up on the list of priorities for people who finally got a night off the streets.

Did he have to be so fucking handsome?

He’d lost some weight, though. That worried me.

Fucking everything about this son of a bitch worried me.

Once he was done, I turned off the water and snatched up two towels, one he could wrap around his hips, and the other for around his shoulders. Then I threw my wet tee over my head, and it landed with a splat in the shower. Christ, my gym shoes too. I’d really come in here without a single functioning brain cell.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing?” he asked, shivering.

“It’s just you.” I unbuttoned my jeans next and pushed them down.

My boxer briefs were still dry, so I had that going for me.

“I gotta get dressed,” I said. “Dry off and go to bed. I’ll bring the food.” I grabbed it on my way out and went straight into the front room, where I unloaded water, pretzel sticks, Nutella, and cold pizza on the coffee table.

I’d see if Petey could put together a soup downstairs for later, though I wasn’t sure. At this hour, and today of all days, nobody ordered fucking soup. They wanted wings, fries, hot dogs, and onion rings.

Back in the hallway, I opened a closet and put on my other pair of jeans—thanks, Ma, for doing my laundry—socks, and one of my countless Clover tees. My gym shoes would have to dry for a day or two, but I had a pair of All Stars in the meantime. Not the best pair of shoes to work in a bar, so I was glad we closed for the night soon.

Ben had sat down on the foot of the bed when I returned to the front room, and I wanted to strangle him as much as I wanted to hug the crap out of him. Nobody had ever forced me into a tailspin of mental gymnastics like this motherfucker. I had no issues with gray areas and nuance, but this was too much. I had at least fourteen different voices shouting an opinion about this man and what we’d gone through together.

Gone through? You fucked. Get over it.

It was more than a fuck. You started caring for him.

You invited someone into your home. You never do that.

Special circumstances. It wasn’t like you met him in a club.

Yeah, but?—

Shut the fuck up.

“I gotta go back downstairs.” I walked over to him and unwrapped the pizza from the foil. “I’ll ask you again—when was the last time you ate? And can you wrap the fucking covers around you? Christ.” Irritated as shit all of a sudden, I snatched up the covers and blanketed them around his shoulders. “When I get back, I want you to have eaten all of this. Don’t forget to drink. I’ll bring more with me later.” Which reminded me… “Hold on. I’mma find some painkillers.”

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