I couldn’t make sense of it.
The young man was nothing like the teenager I’d helped four years earlier. Yes, that Christopher had been solemn and quiet and rightfully slow. But he’d still been… alive. The young man before me who seemed to struggle to return his uncle’s embrace was just a shell.
“You remember Rush?” King said to Christopher as he released him and then motioned in my direction.
Christopher’s eyes on me had my stomach knotting up. Yes, I’d helped him four years ago, but I was also a reminder of what had happened to him that night. It shouldn’t have mattered either way, but it did.
It really did.
I wanted him to be okay with me. I wanted to know that I wasn’t someone he had to fear. Even worse, I was overcome with the urge to pull him into my arms like I had that night and tell him the words I hadn’t been able to utter at the time because I’d been too overcome with the relief of knowing I’d gotten to him in time.
I’ve got you.
From the moment I’d touched Christopher, I’d felt the weight of possessiveness fall over me like a shroud. It wasn’t something I’d ever felt with any of the men or women I’d dated over the years. Even the few long-term relationships I’d had hadn’t merited that kind of reaction.
Thankfully, time and distance had forced me to get past the strange emotions. Christopher had returned home, and I’d gone back to work, and we hadn’t crossed paths again.
Until now.
And just like that, that mantel was back. I wanted answers. I wanted to fix whatever had broken inside of the young man in the time since I’d last seen him. But it wasn’t just the need to protect… there was something else there too.
Something I’d been ashamed to mentally admit to four years ago.
I’d been painfully attracted to Christopher. It hadn’t mattered that he was trying to deal with nearly being sexually assaulted. It hadn’t mattered that he was young and clearly innocent. It hadn’t even mattered that he was technically my boss’s nephew.
I’d wanted him… badly.
And with the way my heart began racing and my dick began filling, it appeared I still did.
“I can go wait in the car,” I offered when Christopher’s eyes met mine and he didn’t say anything.
The young man didn’t instantly respond. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, but there was nothing intimate in the move. It seemed more like he was looking for danger. He finally shook his head and said, “No, I’m sorry. Please, come in, Rush.”
I gave him a second to change his mind before straightening and grabbing the boxes. As soon as I walked past him, Christopher shut the door and began engaging one lock after another. I followed King, who’d picked up his own box to the kitchen. By the time Christopher joined us, all three boxes were sitting on the table.
“Figured now that you’ve got your own place, you’d want these back,” King said as he patted one of the boxes. Christopher finally seemed to notice the writing on the outside of the boxes and instantly paled.
Instead of just leaving things as they were, King opened one of the boxes. With the movement of every flap of the cardboard, Christopher grew more and more tense.
I knew King could tell what he was doing was bothering Christopher, but it didn’t stop him.
Tough love.
That’s what King had called it.
King opened the box to reveal dozens upon dozens of paperback books. I recognized them instantly because I’d had more than one girlfriend who’d read the very same kind of books. They were romance novels. I couldn’t be sure that all of the books in the box were the same or if the other two boxes also had romances in them, but one thing was clear when I glanced at Christopher.
He loved them.
Stop. Period. End of sentence.
He absolutely loved them.
But instead of reaching for one or expressing his thanks, Christopher wrapped his skinny arms around his body and took several steps back. His eyes grew haunted as he looked at the books, and then, just like that, the love was gone, replaced by sheer contempt.
What the fuck?
“This one’s your favorite, right?” King said as he grabbed one of the books and began flipping through it. “Gio got it on his Kindle, and now he’s hooked on the whole series,” King continued. “He’s not the only one,” he added with a small smile.
It was painful to watch my friend try and draw his nephew out. King had told me about the events of Christopher’s childhood and how their own bond had been established. Christopher’s real uncle, Micah, had raised his nephew pretty much single-handedly in an abusive household. Thankfully, Christopher had escaped the worst of the violence, but only because his uncle had taken it all upon himself. Christopher hadn’t been left unscathed though. A violent encounter in the house had led to Christopher and his younger sister fleeing as Micah had fended off the attacker. Fortunately, King’s brother, Con, had had a history with Micah and had been outside the house, along with King, in his car. As Con had gone to help Micah, King had followed the children.