Page 6 of Splintered
And then, in an empty office, slumped over an empty desk, was Evan. He was facedown, his head buried in his crossed arms. His suit jacket lay in a pile on the floor next to a box with all his personal effects from GLS.
Fired. He must have told them about New York.
So heisgoing.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to run to Evan and grab him, hold him, do whatever he could to fix what had happened. He wanted to cry and rage and beg Evan not to go, not to leave.
For a moment, he wondered.New York… What if I—
No. They’dhadthis argument, endlessly.
They were supposed to build a lifehere. That had been the dream, the plan, everything they’d worked toward. Ben’s house was paid off. Evan lived rent free, making a healthy six-figure salary. They were set. They were building their future together, remaking Ben’s house totheirhouse. They werehappy.
They had been happy.
Evan hadn’t needed to accept the offer to interview. He could have told New York,thanks but no thanks. I have a life here.
But he didn’t.
Slowly, he headed for Evan, reaching for his arm. Evan’s starched button-down was rumpled, the sleeves rolled up, collar undone. His tie was loose and draped around his neck. One of his hands was bruised, the knuckles scraped raw, three of the fingers turning black and blue. A fistfight?
Evan jerked back when Ben touched him. He came up fast, blinking hard, staring wildly around until his gaze landed on Ben.
Ben gasped. Evan’s eyes were bloodshot, so red he looked sick. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, crevasses that hadn’t been there that morning. There was a cut on his temple, dried blood smeared on his skin.
Ben whirled on the guard waiting at the door.
The guard had one hand on the Taser he wore on his belt.
“Did you do this?” Ben jabbed his finger toward the cut. “He wasn’t hurt when he left home this morning!”
The guard gave him a dry stare. “Surprised that’s all he got.”
“You’ll be hearing from us. And our attorney.” Wasn’t that what people always said? Ben huffed and reached for Evan again, sliding his hand up Evan’s arm to his shoulders, trying to wrap him up in a sideways hug. Beneath his touch, Evan trembled, like an ongoing aftershock from some terrible earthquake. “Evan?” he murmured. “You all right?”
“Get me out of here,” he whispered.
Ben helped him up, grabbed his jacket while Evan grabbed his box of belongings, and then they were escorted out of the office and all the way to the street by the hulking security guard. He watched them get into Ben’s car before going back into the building.
Evan slumped in the front passenger seat, a sigh like the bellows of a steam engine pushing out. Exhaustion poured from him, something deeper than a sleepless night.
Ben stared. “What happened?”
“Not now,” Evan mumbled. “Just take me home.”
Home. It was ridiculous, but that one word made his heart swell, pushed the anxiety away, at least a bit. Home. Their home.
He shifted into drive and bounced off the curb, cutting into traffic on Spear Street before heading back toward the Bridge.
* * *
Evan didn’t saya word the entire drive. He closed his eyes and slouched, bouncing and rolling in time with the car as if he was boneless. He wasn’t sleeping, though. Ben watched from the corner of his eye, picking out the practiced stillness, the focused intensity Evan was holding onto. He clutched his box of belongings in his lap, his fingertips white where he squeezed the cardboard too tightly. A jumble of framed awards were stuffed inside. A coffee mug, a few desk trinkets. Framed photos of the two of them.
He reached across the car and laid his hand over Evan’s trembling arm.
When they arrived, Evan dumped his box on the couch and headed upstairs, stripping out of his suit and leaving his clothes in a trail through the bedroom. Ben followed, picking up piece after piece, and watched Evan flop face-first onto their bed.
He hovered. Did he go to him? Try to comfort him? If Evan was fired because he was going to New York, then there wasn’t going to be athemmuch longer.
