Page 11 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

Elliot remembered Jared Price mentioning some human phenomenon called fight-or-flight. He’d explained that, when faced with terrifying circumstances, people would either stay and fight or run. No matter how many long walks Elliot may have wanted to take in his new life as a free man, he wasn’t much of a runner. He wasn't a fighter, either, but that was to be expected. Mother had programmed him with a trusting, docile soul. More often than not, when faced with a traumatic life experience, Elliot tended to freeze. His legs would fail to function, and he’d be unable to speak.

Elliot froze again. He knew finding his potential safe house would be impossible at night, and Elliot’s body shook as he tried to think of what to do. First and foremost, Elliot needed to find a power supply. After a long day on public transportation, he would require a full charge overnight.

Slowly, he walked around the square, looking for a single wall outlet outside the many stores, only to be met with disappointment.

He placed his suitcase on the curb and opened it. On top was a treat he’d taken from Jared’s home before running away. While he always wanted to try one of Jared’s plum jam cookies, he’d never had the chance. Well, he had plenty of chances when he went to collect them from . . .

Elliot froze, his eyes closing on their own. Where did the cookies come from? Why couldn’t Elliot remember? He knew he got them three days ago. He remembered, because it had been three days since Jared Price kicked his ribs until they cracked.

Elliot’s wrist throbbed beneath the bandage, but he pushed past that pain, taking out the plum jam cookie, closing the suitcase’s lid, and taking a seat. Opening the wrapper around the cookie, Elliot smiled at the purple jam dollop, still intact. He brought the cookie to his face and inhaled deeply. The smell was nice, and he knew he’d smelled it before, but each time he reached for the memory of when he smelled it last, his head throbbed. Like more little holes filled with frosting.

“Are you lost?” a man asked from behind Elliot. He peeked over his shoulder to find a man, perhaps in his early thirties, wearing a pair of khakis like the ones Elliot was wearing. The man also had on a light pink button-down shirt, and a necktie dotted with . . .

“Are those tiaras?” Elliot asked, pointing at the small crowns littering the man’s tie.

He nodded. “Tiaras are my weakness. Well, tiaras, boy bands, and lemon rosewater.” He extended his hand for Elliot to shake, and Elliot, having been trained in etiquette all his life, lifted his hand in return and provided a shake. The man stared at Elliot’s face and frowned. “Are you okay?”

Elliot tensed. Why did the man frown at him? “Yes, sir. I’m quite alright.”

The man reached down and touched Elliot’s cheek, making Elliot’s body shake and his eyes slam shut. The mental picture of the man’s finger touching his cheek reminded him of the way Jared . . .

“What’s your name?” the man asked, his voice warm and welcoming, pulling Elliot out of his troubled headspace. When he opened his eyes, the man was smiling warmly at him. Nervous orange light flickered through Elliot’s eyes and he scolded himself for letting his colors show. Most people weren’t fond of automatons, and Mother always told them it was best to hide their colors. It was usually easy for Elliot to mask them, which was good, because Jared Price didn’t care for the flashing lights in the corner of Elliot’s eyes. This man didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he seemed quite spellbound by them, which calmed his racing heart.

“I’m Elliot,” he finally answered, then, in a much smaller voice, he added, “I believe I’m lost.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because I know this city by heart. It kind of comes with the job.”

“With what job?”

“I’m Genivieve’s mayor,” he clarified, pointing at the courthouse behind him. He reached for Elliot’s hand and squeezed. “Mayor Beau Rivera, at your service. Now, where are you trying to go? I can help you, I just need to know how.”

Elliot swallowed. “I’m looking for the local library. I have a friend in town I was hoping to stay with.”

“A friend at the library?”

Elliot nodded. “Two of them. Periwinkle and Arthur Price. They’re not expecting me, but I think they’ll be happy to see me. I’m hoping they’ll allow me to live with them.”

Beau smiled warmly. “I know Arthur and Peri well. Periwinkle’s always happy to see everyone. Arthur, less so, but still. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. And, if they don’t, we’ll figure something out. Genevieve is a place for hope and change.” He eyed Elliot curiously. “You look like you could use a little bit of change and a whole lot of hope.” He pointed at a small pink golf cart wedged between a dental office and a pharmacist. “I’d be happy to give you a ride. I’m heading home, and it’s on the way.”

Elliot’s eyes bulged as he stared at the golf cart, hopping up, ignoring his sore, swollen ankles. He attempted to grab his suitcase, but his back was aching just as much as his ankles. Beau must have noticed Elliot’s discomfort, because he stood and picked the suitcase up himself. Elliot regretted not placing his plum jam cookie back inside, but it was too late for that, as Beau was already walking toward the cart. Elliot clasped the cookie delicately and took off after Beau.

When he reached the cart, he sucked in a sharp breath, because it was positively stunning. It was the most beautiful shade of pink Elliot had ever seen. “You drive this?”

Beau blushed. “I know it’s not anything fancy, but it’s sassy and cute.”

Elliot quickly shook his head, awestruck. “No! Mayor Rivera, it’s perfect!”

“You can just call me Beau. Mayor Rivera is my dad. You can call him Dad. Everyone else does. I guess if you want to keep it formal, you can call me Mayor Beau. I’m fine either way.”

Elliot blinked at the man, confused. “Anyway.” He turned and beamed at the cart. “This is absolutely divine! Look at the colors! Oh, and tiny tiaras. They’re just like the ones on your tie!” His eyes bulged as he saw the small disco ball hanging from the rearview mirror, sending silver fractals of light dancing against the cart’s interior. A tear trickled down Elliot’s cheek, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. Instead, he ran his fingers down the cart’s hood. “You can just get in this at any time, and drive wherever your heart takes you.”

“Well, technically, I can only drive about thirty miles before the battery dies, but yeah.”

Elliot looked back at Beau and flashed his cheeriest grin, though his heart wasn’t fully invested in the smile. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

Beau’s hand touched Elliot’s shoulder, and when Elliot looked over, the man with golden skin and pretty brown eyes was giving him a look he couldn’t quite interpret. Elliot wondered if Beau found him attractive. And then Elliot wondered if he found Beau attractive. From a purely biological standpoint, the telltale signs were there. Elliot’s heart raced and his stomach fluttered, but something was lacking. Maybe because of his bond with Jared? Any other time he’d scoff at the notion, but right then, beside Beau Rivera’s golf cart, Elliot realized he must have trauma bonded with his master, because he couldn’t bring himself to look upon Beau Rivera lustfully. There was an internal warning bell going off in Elliot’s head, screaming that Elliot did not belong to the mayor, and the mayor did not belong to Elliot. A sad state of affairs, Elliot pondered, that he could be stuck with a man who only ever brought him pain, simply because it was decided on Elliot’s behalf.

Once they were on the cart, Beau drove at a snail’s pace, even though his pedal was touching metal. As they drove past building after building, Elliot pointed at each of them and proudly proclaimed, “That isn’t a library,” as Beau snickered in the seat beside him.

---