Page 24 of Finders Keepers
“Wait. This puts you in danger.” Wesley pulled his cell phone out of a pocket. “God forbid something happens—who should I contact in case of emergency?”
“Start with my agent…Wade Latham.”
Nate pulled out his own cell and read off Wade’s number. “Now, what can I do to help?”
* * * * *
Leaving Nate to haul piles of laminated bulletin board decorations, boxes of printables, and office supplies to his car,Wesley plodded down the wood-paneled hall to his room to pack. The disaster of the day had caught up with him now that the adrenaline had begun to ebb. The ache of every bruise had returned ten-fold. First order of business was tossing back three naproxen.
He came to a halt in the doorway of his room and gasped. His haven looked as though a tornado had blown through. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.
Wesley’s queen bed was a pile of sheets and blankets. His pillows lay scattered across the floor. Drawers hung open and clothes littered the old taupe-colored indoor-outdoor carpet that had seen better days. Even the pictures on the wall hung crookedly.
The storage containers that had lined the shelves of his closet were scattered across the carpet, their contents, shoes mostly, but also underthings... His stomach churned. If Nate saw any of this, he’d re-think his invitation.
The sound of Nate’s firm footsteps ebbed and flowed in the distance via the thin mobile home walls.
Wait—that’s what Wesley wanted, right? He didn’t want to put Nate in harm’s way. More than he already had anyway. Either way, he needed a suitcase and went into the tiny second bedroom to dig his bag out of an equally miniscule closet. That room was a mess, too. He sighed. Another wave of weariness washed over him, and he returned to the master bedroom.
He’d just opened the large bright blue, soft-sided duffle bag on wheels when Nate’s heavy footfalls came to a halt.
“Okay, your school stuff is in my—Jesus. They weren’t messing around, were they?” Shock flickered across Nate’s face—or was that disgust?
Heat crawled up Wesley’s neck. Didn’t matter. Wesley took a breath. Time to warn Nate off once and for all. “No.”
Nate ambled in and bent to pick something up.
“Which means—”
“These yours?” He held up some lacy panties, of all things, and looked at Wesley.
Oh God.
Heat rushed Wesley’s face like a tidal wave, and he scrambled for some sort of denial. But what reason could he possibly offer for having lacy men’s underwear in his possession? Besides, if he wanted to scare Nate off, this was the way to do it.
Wesley nodded, hazarded a look at Nate. No disgust, no repugnance, no shock.
He rubbed his fingers in the soft stretchy fabric. “Nice. You want to pack any of them?”
Wesley stared hard. Who even was this guy that didn’t blink at lace underwear in pastel colors in a single gay man’s bedroom? “No.” Wesley shook his head. He definitely did not want to pack lacy panties.
Something that sounded a lot like “shame” drifted to Wesley’s ears right before Nate asked, “Where do they go?”
“Um, I think I’m gonna have to wash everything before I wear anything again. The thought of them touching all my stuff...” A shiver rolled down his spine. “Just toss them over there, and I’ll sort through all my clothes when I come home.” The thought of how much work awaited him when he returned home for good almost sent him running from his own life and never coming back.
Pastel-colored lace went flying. “Okay, well grab whatever you want for the next week or two. I have a washer and dryer in the condo.”
Wesley followed the garment’s trajectory to the floor and blinked. He turned to Nate, hands on hips, the movement causing twinges and catches throughout his upper body and reminding him he hadn’t taken any naproxen. “Why aren’t yousurprised or repulsed? Don’t you want to know?” He waved in the direction the underwear had flown. Another spasm surged across his chest, and he winced.
Nate tilted his head. “Why should I be? I go to sex clubs for sex. Who am I to judge? I watch porn. I’ve gone to pride parades and all manner of gay clubs. I’ve seen men wear all kinds of clothing. To each his own.” Nate shrugged. “Pack whatever you want.”
Wesley felt almost faint. “You’re serious?”
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.”
Huh. Wesley breathed out and began tossing clothes into his suitcase. Most of what he grabbed was men’s clothing, although some items were in pastels. In went a lot of comfy stuff, but he packed some of his teacher clothes in case he needed to go somewhere and present a more traditional face to the world.
His gaze flitted around the room, looking for his nightie. Where was it hiding? But maybe he shouldn’t... He imagined himself wandering around Nate’s condo in the loose and flowing gown, soft fabric brushing his skin, and feeling utterly himself.
