Page 38 of Manhattan Heart

He doesn’t say a word and for Cal that’s an achievement itself.

But what he does do is reach across to my lap and enfolds my hand in his.

When my head turns, it’s to see he’s deathly pale and serious as I am.

Perhaps the first time since knowing him, he isn’t wearing his trademark cocky smirk.

“You think I’ll fuck around when my best friend is in surgery? Not today, darling. He’d cut out my guts if I pissed you off right now.” The breath I’m holding shunts out of my lungs and emotion clings to the back of my throat. “You are his beating heart, India. I swear he could write Hallmark cards with the romantic shit he says about you. So don’t you be worrying, he’s gonna be just fine. Gray will fight hell beasts just to be with you.”

I can’t find words to say.

He’s stunned me.

Not only with the nice reassurance, which never comes out of his mouth.

But he’s being positive…supportive even.

It’s like we’ve chewed on shrooms and my former party girl lifestyle knows all about those kinds of psychedelic experiences.

Cal Prince being nice…to me is weird.

We don’t say much after that.

But he does go to get us coffee a bit later and it’s while we’re silently sipping, me watching the clock that he says.

“He tell you how we met?”

“Yeah, briefly. In an open mic night, wasn’t it?”

Cal half smiles, running a hand over his messy blond hair. It’s all different lengths on top and hangs half over his forehead until he shoves it back. Under his long sleeved Henley, I catch glimpses of the tattoos snaked around his forearms. The black ink standing out of his skin.

“That’s the official story. I was there doing a set of my songs. But I was homeless, babe. Living in my car.”

I blink. “Really?”

I never knew this.

“Yeah. I got talking to Gray and we clicked overThe Who. He helped me out as only Gray can. You know how he is.” He sips and smiles to himself, legs out in front of him as he leans back in the soft chair. “I got back on my feet, found three jobs while I earned my teaching degree and the rest is history.”

I knew Cal had a loft over by the meatpacking district, so he wasn’t hurting for money now. I was seeing him in a much brighter… less assholey light all of a sudden for what he’d been through.

“Why were you homeless?”

“I lost everything in one fell swoop. Laid off from a dead end job I hated anyway. Couldn’t pay rent, I’d already sunk all my savings into a recording studio. It all just escalated. I don’t get on with my folks, I don’t have siblings so there was no one I could crash with.”

Wow. So similar to my life when it soared out of control and I asked Gray for help. I never in a million years would think me and Cal would have one thing in common other than Gray.

“You see homeless people on the street and you wonder how they got there. That shit is so easy, babe. Luckily, I never got that desperate, because of your guy in there. I owe him a lot. I owe him my life. I’d do anything for him.”

Gray Ellison, savior of the downtrodden.

God, my man, his layers of wonderful just keep peeling back.

Tears prick the back of my eyelids.

I need him.

He can’t die.

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