Page 12 of New Year

“It’s true. I didn’t start traveling a lot until I was in my late thirties. After I left college, I ended up settling down in Wilmington for over fifteen years.”

“North Carolina?”

“Delaware.”

“Oh. And you grew up where?”

“Western New York. Town no one’s ever heard of. And you?”

Nat had kind of fallen into that with his own nosiness. “In and around Louisville.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have picked Kentucky.”

“I learned to drop the accent before I started my freshman year. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was from, and that’s that.”

“Okay. Subject dropped.”

“Thank you.” Nat twirled strands of spaghetti around his fork tines. “You must have liked Wilmington. To stay for so long.”

“I did. It’s a good-sized city without being overwhelmingly large. I had a decent social circle and support system, and it was a great environment to invest in business ventures. I had quite a few successes there, as well as a few spectacular failures. But when we fail, we dust ourselves off and try again.”

“It’s easier to get up when there’s someone to help you.”

“This is very true. I was lucky to have friends around to help me through the tough times. I’m very sorry you don’t have anyone you could have turned to before now.”

Nat flinched. He’d never forget the cruel look on Austin’s face last November, when they’d driven past one of Angelo’s renovation homes and “joked” about setting it on fire if Nat didn’t stay away from Angelo. The danger was seared into his memory. “It’s not safe to ask anyone for help.”

Zack pressed both hands flat to the table and hunched his shoulders. Lowered his head. “Nathaniel, I need you to be honest with me. Are you in trouble with the police?”

“No.” Nat glared at him, angry at the question while also understanding why he’d asked. “I’m not a fugitive, there’s no warrant for my arrest, and I haven’t committed any crimes.” Well, prostitution wasn’t exactly legal, but whatever. “I’m not involved in drugs or theft or anything like that. It’s not a criminal thing, it’s personal.”

“Someone’s trying to find you?”

“I don’t know for sure. Look, things got bad, and I left, and I don’t want him to find me again. If I don’t exist anywhere, then he can’t find me.”

“Ah.” Zack drew that tiny word out into at least four syllables full of sympathy and understanding. Nat wanted to bristle, to chafe against the pity, but there wasn’t any there. “I haven’t dealt with that particular problem personally, but I’ve known a few people who have. It’s tough, and it’s even tougher when you try to do it on your own.”

“Sometimes there’s no choice. I won’t let him hurt anyone else because of me.” Two people he cared about had already been nearly killed when Nat had tried to break up with Austin. He couldn’t risk it again.

“So, you’re going to what? Live in abandoned warehouses for the rest of your life? Spend it completely alone on the streets?”

“No, I’m saving up money. When I have enough, I’m getting a burner phone and a bus ticket out of here. I was almost there, and then I got mugged a few days ago. They took everything I had.” Shame washed over him like ice water. He hadn’t been watchful; he’d tried to trust that the guy wanted to help him.

He’d been wrong, and his ribs were still tender from the encounter.

Nat looked up from his plate in time to see the anger simmering in Zack’s eyes. Eyes that softened immediately when they met Nat’s, and that…felt nice. Someone was angry on his behalf, for a change, instead of angry at him. He missed kind, tender looks and genuine smiles, especially from handsome, older men. Yes, he had a type, but who didn’t? Nat liked older, confident, stable men.

Austin had been different from his usual type, and that had been exciting.

Until it wasn’t.

Then it had been about survival, and eventually, escape.

“I’m sorry you lost everything,” Zack said. “I hate that you think the only way to stay safe is by risking your life on the street.”

“I go to a shelter sometimes, but I get paranoid, like someone there will recognize me and tell him. I don’t want him to find me.”

“I take it you haven’t gone to the police because you don’t have any proof of anything he’s done? Medical records or witnesses, or anything on your phone?” Zack grunted. “Although, you mentioned buying a burner phone.”

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