Page 139 of Rules to Love By

“What’s not okay about it?”

“That you’re so hungry for human touch you let guys use you just to feel the contact.”

Marcus’s gut turned over. Blood drained from his head and heart like dirty water swirling down the drain.

“Come here,” Eli whispered.

“Iris loved me.”

“I have no doubt. She raised an amazing human being. She did the very best she could. She showed you love the only way she knew how. It’s not her fault she didn’t realize you needed something she didn’t have to give. She didn’t recognize it in you because it wasn’t in her. That isn’t anyone’s fault.”

Marcus sighed and flopped over to lie against Eli’s chest, his back warmed by Eli’s comforting bulk. “What if I open that envelope and find out she left me nothing? That Johnathan gets it all?”

Eli resumed running fingers through his curls. “Well, then, good thing you make a decent handyman. And I guess you ask Ozzy for work until you figure out what you want to do. Maybe you save up and go to school. Get a job as a fry cook?” Hehmmmed and scratched lightly at Marcus’s scalp. “Make art. You pretty much do whatever you want. Maybe work at the shelter, if you’re serious about wanting to help kids in trouble.”

“I could make a go of the diner.”

“I believe you could.”

“I’d need a few people. Servers. Cooks.”

“You wouldn’t want to cook yourself?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes. I like it, but it’s not my passion. Not like Tris. And I’m too grumpy to be like Lucky, talking to people all day long, smiling at them and bringing them coffee.”

Eli snorted. “No way.”

Marcus elbowed him lightly in the gut. “Smartass.”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m pretty good with people. I can run around taking orders and serving coffee all day long.”

“How would you write down orders?” Marcus asked, twisting around to look at him. “Not to be a jerk about it, but how would that work?”

“Point-of-sale consoles can be configured all sorts of ways.”

“That’s fancy talk for technology the Egg Basket doesn’t have and can’t afford.”

“I’m sure we could work out a system. I did at the bar, I can at a diner.”

“You’d really come work at the diner?”

“Sure. Slinging drinks, slinging eggs. Same difference.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay rent, so the pay cut won’t hurt too much, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“There is an apartment on the third floor.”

“Your apartment.”

Marcus stilled, held his breath.

Eli stroked his hair in silence.

He focused on the slow slide of fingers through his hair and tried to pretend he hadn’t just accidentally asked Eli to work—and live—with him at the diner. He tried to pretend it didn’t sting that Eli gave no reply to it.

Instead, he focused on the soft glide of Eli’s touch, on the steady rhythm of the movement, and let his eyes drift closed. This wasn’t so bad. By morning, they could both forget he’d even mentioned it.

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