Page 15 of The Bargain

“No. I—” He stopped himself and turned toward me, but he kept his head lowered, his glare directed at his water glass.

“We’re friends, Byron. You can talk to me. Do I need to take out the egg?”

A half smile curled up one side of his mouth. “You donothave that with you.”

I reached into my pocket, took out the marble egg, and positioned it in front of him, earning me the best surprised laugh.

“The Friend Egg says talk,” I said.

“That’s not always going to work,” he replied as he wiped one corner of his eye. “But yesterday, the topper on my already shit day was a call from Ronnie’s doctor. They needed to increase and adjust his meds because of a violent outburst. No one was hurt, thankfully, but the doctor reminded me that Ronnie needs to be moved to another facility. The current place can manage, but it’s always a strain for them if he has a bad day. Their top answer for problems is to dose him with more drugs, but the doc thinks that this other hospital would help him more because they have more programs that can work with Ronnie.”

“Is the other location full? Can they not take him?”

Byron shook his head. “The other facility is twice as expensive.” When he lifted his lips this time, it was frail and bitter as he tossed his hands up. “You know healthcare in America. It’s always ridiculously expensive.”

I had to bite on my tongue until I could taste blood to keep from blurting out a hundred things I knew were the wrong thing to say.

How much do you need? Let me pay for it. How about I give you a giant raise?

Before any of that could tumble from my mouth, my eye caught on the marble egg resting between us. We were brand-new friends, and throwing money at Byron’s problems was more likely to insult him than make him happy. Right now, I was supposed to be listening and offering emotional support.

“But you know, it’s been almost two years since I went digging through all the databases and websites for grants and subsidies to help pay for care like that. There might be newstuff out there that I’ve overlooked,” Byron continued, seemingly oblivious to my struggles.

“I know some people who are experts in healthcare costs and things like that. I could reach out to them and see if they have any advice or ideas that might help,” I offered.

That was a lie. I didn’t know anyone who was an expert in that tangled mess, but I had lawyers and other teams at my disposal who could wade through that morass and find answers for me and Byron. If I couldn’t give Byron my money, I could at least secretly spend it on him to help him find the answers he needed.

“Really? That-that would be amazing.” Byron stared at me with wide, shining eyes. The relief rising off the younger man was a palpable thing. I hadn’t offered a dime to him, but Byron acted as if I’d taken out an entire army of worries for him and given him his very first taste of hope in years. “Trudging through all those websites and forms can be so soul-sucking at times. And finding anyone who knows this world and has the time to help is just as hard.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make some phone calls on Monday, get some wheels turning for you. I promise. We’ll find some answers.”

Yes. I was going to move this mountain for Byron, and it was only the start.

6

SEBASTIAN COURTLAND

Yesterday was an amazing day!

Books and a late lunch at a great restaurant. By the time we’d walked back to the car, Byron had been laughing and even cracking jokes. I hadn’t wanted it to end, but I’d known better than to press my luck. I’d dropped him off at his apartment after lunch.

So, naturally, I was on his doorstep early Sunday morning with a bag of his favorite bagels and cream cheese.

“What are you doing here?” Byron demanded as soon as he opened the door. Today, he wore a pair of old gray sweat pants that hung so deliciously low on his hips and a baggy T-shirt from the local Labor Day fireworks celebration, except the T-shirt was about eight years old and had a hole at the shoulder seam. But the best part—he was wearing glasses. Thin, gold wire-rimmed glasses that made his eyes appear even bigger. He never wore them to the office. I’d had no idea he needed them.

“You wear glasses.”

The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was lucky I had any filter at all when he was looking so relaxed and adorable. The entire picture made me want to pick him up,carry him to the nearest bed, and cuddle him while stripping off all the worn, slouchy clothes.

“I haven’t bothered to put in my contacts yet. Why are you here?”

“I brought bagels and your suit,” I said, shoving both things toward him. I had debated holding on to his suit and giving it to him in the office, but if someone saw me do that, it would raise questions. Even if no one saw me, it was likely to put Byron in a panic, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.

“Oh.” Byron took the suit and frowned at the bag of bagels as he continued to stand in the doorway, blocking my entrance. In fact, he had the door pulled against his body, keeping me from seeing into his apartment. Was there someone with him he didn’t want me to see?

Fuck…was he seeing someone?

As the thought dug its claws into my brain, I could hardly breathe. He’d never said whether he was dating someone. I’d always assumed he was single based on the ridiculous number of hours he spent at the office. But I could be so fucking wrong.

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