Page 24 of New Year

“Bingo. Zack was bugging me earlier today about looking at applicants for daytime help. He knows how much I abhor the idea of allowing a stranger into my home, but I also understand his point of view. He worries, and it’s my fault he worries.”

“Having ALS isn’t your fault. It’s not like you could have done anything to prevent it.”

“No, but I could have handled this by myself, instead of dragging Zack into it. Without oversharing, we were very close once, and then we lost contact for a long time. We hadn’t spoken in at least a decade when I decided to make him part of my problems, and he came to help. He always does.”

Nat didn’t need stick figure drawings to understand what Chase was telling him. Chase and Zack had once been intimate, had gone their separate ways, but there was obviously still love there for Zack to move into the (technically) same house. “So you’re going to hire daytime help because you feel guilty for basically making Zack responsible for your care until…um.”

“Until I die? Exactly. Calling him was selfish.”

“Considering the future you’re facing, Mr. S—Chase, I think you’re entitled to be a little selfish. It’s okay to put yourself first sometimes.” Something Nat was still learning to apply to his own life. But he’d done it by leaving Austin and disappearing.

“I’ve put myself first for my entire adult life. How else do you think I’ve made it to forty-five and am still single? Never married. Never even engaged. I’m pretty sure my time with Zack was the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Being single doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you smart.” Nat could have kicked himself for saying that out loud.

Chase watched him with an unwavering gaze that seemed to see right inside Nat’s soul, to identify his worst secrets. Nat sat still, trying his best not to squirm under the direct scrutiny, ready to jump out of his own skin and—an old-fashioned bell clanged. Chase dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Alarm. Time to head to my appointment.”

“Right, yeah.” The serious discussion was over for now.

The swap from slippers to laced loafers took a bit of negotiating, but Chase did allow Nat to assist him in the task with a minimum of grumbling. Nat took a moment to properly adjust the seat and mirrors of Chase’s car. The absolute last thing he wanted was to get into an accident while driving someone else’s car

Their conversation stopped once they were on the road. Chase cranked up an 80s playlist while also providing clear directions for Nat to the other side of town. Almost better than his GPS could have done, which suggested Chase had made this drive a lot. Their route ended in the parking lot of a professional center, all various offices and slightly confusing entrances. Chase directed him to the right entrance and told him to park. Nat found a space.

“Do you need help getting to the office?” Nat asked.

“No, I can manage the walk and all that jazz. You don’t have to sit here for the full time, just be back by two o’clock.”

Afternoon doctor appointments were notorious for running late. “How do you know you’ll be done by two?”

Chase winked. “Because therapy appointments are fifty minutes, and Dr. Crain is very good at time management. See you in an hour, Nathaniel.”

“Yeah.”

Nat watched Chase get out of the car and begin his slow shuffle up the sidewalk, toward the entrance. He didn’t stop watching until the building swallowed Chase up, and then he began tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. Nat had roughly an hour to kill and hadn’t even considered what to do. Driving around was not an option. He didn’t have a cell phone, and this was not his car.

Sitting there and listening to the radio was an option, albeit, not an attractive one. Instead, he turned off the car, took the key, and began to walk the property. The professional center was square in the middle of a residential area, with lots of trees, and even a few benches placed at intervals along the sidewalk. He picked a random bench and sat, thankful for the shade in the blazing June heat, and kind of wishing he had a cold drink to sip.

But he’d been in worse situations than slightly thirsty on a shaded bench, surrounded by people going about their business. And to anyone who looked, he was another of those people. His clothes were laundered, he was freshly showered, and he didn’t have to pose himself as someone open for business. He could just…relax.

Nat closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Pretended he was in the middle of the woods someplace peaceful, away from the noise and grime of the city. Not that Reynolds was a dirty place to live, but even a vibrant, fun college town had its dark sides. But he wasn’t in the city today. He was resting near Sparrow Creek, one of his favorite places in the mountains, watching squirrels leap from branch to branch, chasing each other and their desire to hoard acorns for the winter.

For the first time in weeks, he felt safe, and like maybe things would be okay. He liked Zack. A lot. His white knight in shining brown loafers. And he was fond of Chase, who’d been incredibly vulnerable earlier. He’d trusted Nat to bring him to his therapy appointment. Nat could not imagine how traumatic it was to be diagnosed with something like ALS, and he was insanely jealous of Chase for not only having a shrink he could afford, but also having a friend like Zack to support him.

Nat needed some therapy for his own issues, but he couldn’t afford that right now. Maybe one day, when his financial shit was together, and his housing shit was together, he could think about his mental health. Not today. Probably not this year. It took all the mental energy he had not to drown his fears and nightmares in booze or drugs.

“Natty Dog?” a familiar female voice said.

He blinked several times as his head swiveled around, seeking out the voice. Sasha Layton stood a few feet down the cement path. She’d been a bartender at Tim’s for years, was a six-foot-four former college basketball player with as much ink as bare skin, and could bounce someone out of the bar better than the bouncer at the door.

He’d adored her.

They also hadn’t seen each other since their last in-person fundraiser meeting in April.

“Hey, Sasha.” He stood out of habit and braced for her big, warm hug, enjoying the positive physical contact for the few seconds she offered it.

She pulled back and very blatantly stared at his face. “You get into a fight, honey? Where have you been? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts or calls.”

“I’m sorry, my phone broke, and I couldn’t afford a new one.” The truth popped out, because he was too startled seeing her here to construct a good lie. His fingers brushed the mark on his cheek. “It was a scuffle. I’m fine. How are you?”

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