Page 70 of The Guy in the Alley

“One of the best.” I guessed I’d reached the worst part now. “After that, I…” I exhaled a laugh, even as my stomach churned with unease. “I rebelled again, this time with myself. I got this idea that I needed structure and a good authority figure.”

“Ah. The Army and your attempt to become a cop.”

“Exactly. And then self-defense and some martial arts. I vowed to myself never to look the other way again when a piece of shit should pick on someone their own size.” I shook my head and finished my first piece of toast. My last too. I had no appetite. “I still had a foot in the door of the place I’d left behind. I was trying to get Eric away from drugs and all that shit.”

Back then, I’d had a studio apartment on the edge between the South Side and Evergreen Park, and I’d never forget how Eric played with my hope. He’d made so many empty promises.

“Dad didn’t trust me around the bar yet, but he’d called in a couple favors so I could work elsewhere,” I continued. “I worked part time at Sam’s Club and Mariano’s close to where I lived. Hunting down Eric was also a part-time job, I guess.” I picked up my coffee mug, seeing his intoxicated expression in my mind. How I’d fucking hated it. “Every time I managed to pull him away from one of his parties, he promised to get clean and start fresh. Then when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”

Eventually, he’d stopped making promises.

Eventually, I’d stopped hunting him down.

Eventually, he’d OD’d and died.

I took a swig of my coffee, but it tasted of old memories.

I noticed Ben was no longer interested in his toast either.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m the reason you’re having nightmares,” he said with a sigh. “I take it Eric’s story didn’t end well.”

“I found out he was dead seven months after he’d been buried,” I confirmed. “And before you give yourself a hard time, you weren’t my boyfriend when you walked out without a word, Ben. I didn’t know you leaving that way was gonna stir up old shit. Besides, I’m not actually sure that’s why.”

He furrowed his brow and glanced my way.

It was time for me to be honest.

I swallowed and set down my mug. “My biggest fear is that’s gonna happen again, and everything’s different now. It would hurt way more.”

Right then and there, I realized I was willing to lay it all out. After weeks—fuck, months—of shitty communication on both our parts, he’d taken the first step today. More than that, he’d been very open in that damn letter. So it was my turn to make myself vulnerable, despite that it scared the shit out of me. Because it was so new. Other than Eric, I’d had one brief relationship, and it’d crashed and burned within a few months. I hadn’t been able to commit as much as he’d wanted, so he’d moved on without telling me for a while.

Ben wasn’t like my pathetic pool of exes. I knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere, Trace,” he told me quietly. “I wish you’d told me, though. We should’ve hashed this out weeks ago. You should’ve let me grovel.”

I shook my head tiredly. It was pointless. “In your shoes, I probably woulda done the same thing.”

I knew firsthand how feelings could freak someone out, and he’d hinted at an attachment. That it hurt to borrow a page from my life or whatever. He’d felt the need to leave because he’d crash once the illusion burst.

“Can I share my biggest fear now?” he asked.

I eyed him wearily.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to face me more. “Other than losing what I’m currently trying to create, I’m…” He trailed off and scratched his forehead, seemingly changing his mind. “Maybe it’s not even a fear. I’m more resigned.”

“About what?”

“Never catching up,” he admitted. “Dating and all that shit—it doesn’t exist for me, because it can’t.”

I felt myself go cold at the same time as my heart caught on fire in the worst way. It fucking hurt. It pounded, as if screaming for help, and a cloud of anxiousness billowed up in my chest.

“Alvin will always need me.” He dropped his stare to his food. “The day I manage to get him to move, it has to be a place I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life in. And…” He swallowed. “While I’d never trade being his dad for anything, it’s painful to accept that my inability to be flexible will make sure I’ll always be alone. Most of my money will continue going to his care, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to get to where I once was, work-wise. Having my own company, feeling somewhat secure with my finances, having a buffer. I’ll always worry.”

But I can be there.

Fuck.

“What happens to him when I die?” he asked. “What happens when my mother dies? What happens if, in a year or two, there’re layoffs and I lose my job?”

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