Page 12 of Sir Avery's Wish
The suggestion hit Avery with unexpected force. He’d considered financial troubles, immigration issues—even minor legal problems. But the idea of Eli fleeing from an abuser made his jaw clench. The memory of Eli’s eyes wide with terror suddenly made more sense.
“Whatever it is, his fear was genuine.” Avery set his glass down with more force than he intended. “I can't stop thinking about him out there, alone and scared.”
Marc studied him with the careful gaze of someone who made his living reading people.
“I can see that,” Marc said gently. “You've mentioned his fear several times in the past five minutes, and your jaw keeps tightening every time you talk about him running away.”
Heat crept up Avery’s neck, and the scotch burned in his stomach as he shifted in his chair. Marc’s perceptive observation made him feel exposed in a way he didn’t appreciate.
“I'm concerned about a member of my staff,” Avery said, his voice coming out more defensive than he intended. “That's what good employers do.”
Foster glanced between them, then reached for his seltzer. The ice clinked against the glass as he took a careful sip, clearly sensing the tension that had settled over their table.
“You're invested in this young man.” Marc smiled, his voice carrying that soft probing tone Avery recognized from their friendship spanning over a decade. “More than you usually are with staff issues.”
The remark settled uncomfortably in Avery’s stomach. He took another sip of scotch, buying himself time to consider Marc’s words. Was he more invested than usual? The answer came swiftly and without his permission—yes, he absolutelywas. But admitting that felt like opening a door he wasn’t sure he cared to walk through.
“He’s just a kid,” Avery said finally, though the words felt insufficient even to his own ears. “Twenty-five, according to his application. Scared out of his mind to the point he chose to sleep on a concrete floor surrounded by dirty laundry.”
Foster winced, nodding. “That's awful. Boston winters kill people who don't have shelter.”
Avery’s gut tightened. The blunt assessment hit him like a physical blow. The temperature had dropped noticeably since he’d left the hotel, even with his wool scarf and leather jacket. The thought of Eli huddled somewhere in the cold made him sick to his stomach.
“I know,” Avery said, his voice rough. “That’s what worries me. If he’s not sleeping at the hotel anymore...”
“You feel responsible,” Marc said, not a question but a statement.
“I should’ve handled it differently.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I cornered him in that laundry room. No wonder he bolted.”
Marc shook his head. “Don’t beat yourself up. You had no way of knowing how he’d react.”
“I should’ve, though.” Avery ran a hand through his hair, unconcerned about messing up his earlier efforts. “I’ve dealt with skittish subs before. I know how to approach someone who’s frightened.”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the ambient sounds of the club washing over them—music pulsing from the dance floor, the clink of glasses, occasional laughter. It all seemed incongruously festive against the gravity of his concerns.
“What if we check the shelters?” Foster asked suddenly. “Maybe we could help you look for him."
Marc squeezed Foster’s shoulder, smiling at his boy. “Absolutely. If he was desperate enough to sleep at work, he might try one now.”
Avery straightened. “That’s an excellent idea." A spark of hope ignited in his chest. “He’s slim, about five-eight, with shoulder-length curly auburn hair, hazel eyes, and freckles. Pale complexion. Looks younger than his age. His name is Eli.”
The description felt inadequate to capture the vulnerability that had struck him so forcefully during their brief encounter.
“You should touch base with Zane,” Marc suggested. “He could have Ryan keep an eye out when he volunteers.”
Avery’s jaw went slack.It couldn’t be.“Funny you should say that…” He rubbed his chin, mentally reminding himself not to get his hopes up. “Zane said the reason he left early was that Ryan brought home a guest from the shelter where he was giving out food tonight.”
Foster and Marc exchanged glances. Marc leaned forward. “You’re not suggesting their guest might be Eli, are you?”
Avery’s excitement dimmed. “It does seem rather unlikely. What are the odds, right?” He shrugged. “But I could still ask just in case.”
Marc nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean you shouldn’t check every lead. Merely that you’re careful to manage your expectations.”
Foster wrapped his hands around his glass. “I was thinking, if he’s running from someone, he might not want to be found. Even by someone neutral.” Foster glanced at Marc as if seeking permission to continue. Marc smiled and nodded. “All I mean is that Eli might see you as an authority figure who could make his situation worse.”
The observation stung, but Avery knew Foster was right. He was the hotel owner who confronted Eli about breaking the rules, not a potential ally. Eli had no reason to trust him.
“Fair enough.” Avery swirled the remaining scotch in his glass. “But I can’t walk away and do nothing.”
