Page 14 of The Truth of Our Past

I understand why they put a separate entrance in for the living space, especially if a woman ever lives in my apartment, but some days, I wish I didn’t have to go outside. After I clean up my mess, I realize I cannot wait out the storm and take the elevator to the exit.

Even though the awning covers both doors, it does not provide any shelter. The rain is turning to sleet and lashes sideways in heavy sheets as the temperature hovers around freezing.

New Yorkers pretend to be immune to the weather, but every artist who worked today talked at length about the unusual cold and rain. It’s colder here than it is in Sweden, and this storm reminds me of the ones that sweep in from the artic, chilling everyone to the bone.

I can either stand here or brave it. The wind is so strong I have to fight to get the door open, and I can barely see through the dense torrent of rain. My fingers instantly numb and fumble on the keypad.

Movement catches my eye—a shadow of a man huddled against the building. I do not recognize my need to help him. We Swedes keep to ourselves and let everyone handle their own business.

Someone else must take over my body because I take a bill out of my wallet and plod toward the person. It will be enough for him to buy a coffee and get out of the rain. Yelling to get his attention, I approach slowly.

Big brown broken eyes meet mine and they gut me.

Alec. I reach for him, but he is nonresponsive.

Whispers in the Dark by Skillet

Shaking gently to stir him into action does nothing. He collapses against me, and I tuck him into my side. The pieces begin to fit together. Madyson crying and the open front door means he’s been exposed to this weather too long.

It takes coaxing to get him to move. I’m not above throwing him over my shoulder at this point. My fingers ache from the cold and his limbs aren’t working correctly. He might have frostbite.My underwear and shoes are frigid and wet. I might throw them out. His clothes are worse.

The wait for the elevator is eternal, while Alec shivers wordlessly in my arms. That scares me the most. Alec uses humor for everything and talks as much as he breathes.

I maneuver him through my bedroom and into the bathroom. Turning on the walk-in shower, I angle us both in. I’m afraid if I turn the water too hot, I’ll scald him.

Alec is jelly and will fall if I let go. Shivers wrack his body.

I hold him tight, his back against my chest so the warm water can replace the cold. He’s not even wearing a jacket. I slowly peel the Henley over his stomach to expose his skin.

His skin is living artwork that I can’t admire.

“I got you.” I take one of his arms, bending it up and around my neck. “Let me help you.” My mouth is next to his ear, and he lets out an animalistic wail. It’s the sound of a man who’s shattered.

He’s a solid block of ice and he needs all the warmth I can offer.

Getting his shirt over his head is equivalent to wrestling an unruly toddler, and I would tease him if I weren’t so concerned. I wriggle out of my own shirt to give Alec my body heat. We stand silently for a few minutes before I ask if he can stand.

Alec nods and shakes his head at the same time. I turn us sideways so I can prop him against the wall and remove our pants. Alec seems oblivious that we are only wearing underwear—almost naked in my shower. I distract myself from ogling his body and tattoos by adjusting the water temperature to hot, hoping his skin is ready for the heat.

Alec’s head flops back to rest on my shoulder and his hands grip my forearms wrapped around him. I can’t imagine what Madyson said to unhinge Alec.

I’m well acquainted with grief, and he’s drowning in an ocean of it.

All I can do is hold him and take care of him until he works through his pain.

As soon as the water cools, I wrap him in a couple of towels and strip off his boxers. I give myself an extra point for not checking out his dick. Normally, Alec thrives on attention, but he’s not that Alec now. This Alec has vacant eyes, barely a shell of a human. Once he’s dry, I dress him in my thickesttröjaand sweatpants. After pulling back the covers on my bed, I lay him down and climb in behind him once I dry off and dress.

I don’t want to notice how his body melts into mine or how his presence thaws my heart. My thoughts need to stay focused on making sure he’s warm and not suffering any negative effects from the freezing rain.

Alec’s body convulses and I’m not sure if it’s physical or emotional pain. I envelop him, entwining our legs and tucking his head under my chin. His rapid breath saws in and out against the hollow of my throat.

I’m angry for him. At whoever has reduced this fun-loving man to shreds. It’s not even strange that we have not exchanged any words or that he’s here in my bed. That worries me.

Alec lifts his head, and the vulnerability is more than I can take.

“Why are you doing this?”

A million answers flicker through my head before I settle on the truth. “You need me.”

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