Page 3 of Outside the Veil
Diego could only watch anxiously, praying his guest wouldn’t choke, as the rest disappeared in three bites. With a contented sigh, Finn handed the peel back, gathered the covers into a circle in the center of the mattress and curled into a tight ball inside his nest. By the time Diego brought an extra comforter to cover him, Finn was fast asleep.
Clean and at rest, his face had a childlike quality, with his hair tucked behind one finely curved ear. Diego wasn’t certain it was a handsome face, almost unearthly in its delicacy, and though Finn stood six inches taller, he had the odd feeling he could scoop that long frame up in his arms without much effort.
He backed out and closed the door as quietly as he could, confident Finn wouldn’t die on him. Tomorrow he would see about finding the right agency to take his guest, preferably one that wouldn’t hand him right over to immigration.
A few hours of peace while Finn slept should let him at least get through the current chapter he was writing.
The moment he sat ready at his desk, fingers poised over the keys, the phone rang.
Chapter two
Mitch
“Hey.”
Diego felt as if a tourniquet had tightened around his throat. “Mitch…how are you?”
“Good.”
In the long silence, he thought of dozens of things he should say. None of them made it out.
“Look.” Mitch’s voice edged toward annoyance. “I’m coming over to get the rest of my stuff. I don’t want any scenes. No drama. Okay?”
“All right.” Diego heard himself speaking from far away. “Could we maybe talk about this?”
“Stop it. We had fun. It’s over.”
“Not for me it’s not,” Diego whispered, resting his forehead on the desk.
“I’m on my way. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Jesus, Diego. You have somewhere important you have to be?” The note of contempt stung more than harsh words ever could.
“I’ll be here.”
The last straw, two weeks before, had been so petty but everything had been too far gone by then. Diego had pulled a four-week-old kitten out of a dumpster. Normally Mitch would have rolled his eyes or offered some caustic remark and let it go at that, but they had been dressed to the nines, on the way to a party given by one of Mitch’s business associates.
“Shit, Diego! It’s filthy. Put it back.” Even in the dim alley, he had seen Mitch’s face turn crimson.
“She needs help,” Diego had pleaded. “I’ll take her to rescue, go change and meet you there. I won’t be long.”
“You come with me now or don’t bother showing up.” Mitch had spoken in a calm, reasonable tone.
It wasn’t until the next morning when Mitch still hadn’t come home that Diego realized he’d received an ultimatum for more than just the evening. He’d chosen a skinny, flea-ridden castoff over his handsome lover for the last time.
He wandered out into the hall to run his fingertips over the stacked boxes. All so lovingly packed. Why had he bothered? What was he expecting Mitch to say? “Oh, Diego, thank you for going to all this trouble. I’m sorry I ever left you. I’ll be home tonight.”
Mitch’s hands sliding down his ribs, full lips tracing patterns along his throat…
Diego shivered and closed his eyes, an endless chasm opening under his feet. “God.” He slapped a hand on the wall to steady himself. Carbamazepine…had he taken it this morning?
Three years and it all came down to a few boxes and a bedroom set. Plans for a life together, the house in Connecticut—all sand through his fingers.
“The whole world comes first for you,” Mitch declared one night during a bitter argument. “The bag lady down the street. The junkie on the corner. Some damn alley cat. Any excuse to shove me to the side.”
Diego could offer no defense to what was only truth. Not that he wanted to shove Mitch aside, but the need to help was a compulsion, almost an addiction.
