Chapter Six #4
He swallows hard.
“So I set my alarm for two in the morning so I could get something to drink. I always have to wake up and drink at least half a bottle of water each night. My body fights me in the morning if I don’t.
Drinking water is vital if I want to stay standing.
Anyway, after setting the alarm and eating a sandwich, I remember walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
There was no warning. My head wasn’t fuzzy, not like that. I was just… sleepy. Really sleepy.”
He lets out a shaky breath.
“I don’t remember it happening,” he whispers. “And then… I woke up here.”
He’s trembling. Exhausted. Ashamed.
Fucking broken under all this weight he’s been carrying alone.
“Open your eyes, baby,” I say softly. “Show me those pretty brown eyes, sweetheart.”
It takes him a minute, but he finally does.
And I can see it all over him. The embarrassment. The shame. The fear he’s trying so damn hard to hide.
He has no reason to feel any of it.
“You look really mad,” he whispers.
“First,” I say gently, “there is nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”
“I work as a janitor at a sex club, Skip,” he murmurs, cheeks flushing bright red.
“Correction,” I frown. “You worked as a janitor at a sex club. Past tense. That stops now. You’re way too fucking precious to be hanging around that lot.”
His eyes drop again.
“And second,” I add, tightening my grip on his hand, “working as a janitor at a sex club is not shameful. Not even a little.”
I cup his jaw, lifting his face so he has to look at me.
“There is nothing shameful about surviving. Nothing shameful about doing what you have to do to keep a roof over your head. Shame doesn’t belong to the person trying to make it through the week.
It belongs to the people who left you with no other choice. ”
His eyes fill, just a little, and he tries to look away, but I don’t let him.
“You hear me?” I whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just did what you could with the hand you were given. And that… baby, that’s nothing but strength.”
“I can’t quit,” he whispers. “I have to make that extra money each month, or I’ll lose my apartment.”
“Don’t worry about that, son,” Spike says from behind me. “We’ll pay you plenty to cover your bills, food, and whatever else you need. And you’re a Shadow now, Eli. Housing comes with the territory.”
“Housing?” he asks, blinking up at Spike, and I can’t help but smirk.
That housing is only for club officers and their families.
“We’ve got several empty homes inside the compound,” I tell him. “Fully furnished. All appliances included in the monthly rent.”
“How much is it?” Eli asks, already looking defeated.
“We don’t actually charge rent,” Spike says. “Officers earn their houses by doing their jobs.”
“But I’m not an officer,” he says. “I don’t… I don’t have a way to earn my keep if I take one of your homes.”
“How about you let us worry about that?” Spike replies, stepping up to Eli’s bedside and patting his shoulder before pulling out his phone. “I need to get in touch with the officer in charge of all this and make sure it’s even feasible before I give you a final answer.”
“Okay,” Eli nods. “I’ve been thinking about moving. I just… can’t afford anything better.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Spike says, lifting his phone to his ear.
Seconds later, my phone rings.
It takes everything in me not to grin like an idiot.
I like this game.
Who knew Spike could be so fun?
“Hey, Prez,” I answer, keeping my face straight even though Eli’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates.
“Skip, I have a man here looking to rent one of the club’s houses,” Spike says, suddenly all business. Not a hint of humor.
“Is he an officer?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Eli.
“No.”
“Is he a patched member?” I press.
“Nope.”
“Well,” I sigh, “not sure I can allow that. Ultimately, it’s your call since you’re the Prez, but I can’t sit back and let an unpatched, unclaimed man have that kind of access to our family.”
Spike doesn’t even blink.
“Hmm,” he says. “No, you’re right. Probably not the smartest idea.” He pauses, then adds, “I guess I’ve only got one more question.”
He looks at me. I look back.
“Is he actually unclaimed?”
Eli tries to pull his hand away again…but I’m in no way letting him go.
I ignore his gasp, keeping my eyes locked on Spike as I shake my head.
He raises a brow. “What’s his patch going to say, brother?”
And suddenly the entire room feels smaller. Hotter. Closer.
I know what Spike’s doing. Once I answer this? There’s no taking it back. Not unless Eli walks away from me.
Am I truly ready?
Ready to settle down?
To choose one person?
To hand over my freedom, my bachelor life, my everything…and give it to him?
I look at Eli.
Exhausted, hurting, scared… and still somehow blushing because he thinks his ‘cute’ isn’t ‘sexy.’
And my heart makes the decision for me.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I know one thing for fucking sure.
Eli is mine.
I want nothing more than to wipe away his fears and uncertainties… to make sure he’s never this exhausted again. To take care of him in ways I never even dreamed of before.
Smiling, I look into Eli’s eyes and say, “Property of Skip, of course.”
Spike smirks and pockets his phone.
“See you both at home,” he says. “Maverick had one of his men bring a car around. He’s gonna take your bike back.”
“What’s happening?” Eli asks as Spike leaves.
“We’re going home,” I say, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Then after you’ve rested until your body is happy, you and I need to have a nice long chat.”
“Sir,” a man says, setting a duffel bag next to the hospital bed, “I’ve taken the liberty of collecting some of your husband's clothes from his apartment. I’m here to take you both home when you’re ready.”
“Let’s get you dressed, baby,” I tell Eli, glancing back at the man dressed in head-to-toe black. “Then this fella can take us home while I grill the life out of him about Maverick.”
“Who is he?” Eli asks, squinting up at him.
“One of Maverick’s people,” I say with a grin.
I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time.
“Maverick has people?” Eli blinks, genuinely shocked.
“That’s the same question I asked when I found out,” I snort. “Maverick’s not officially one of us, but we treat him like he is. He’s the Shadows’ Outlaw.”
“That sounds kind of fun, actually,” Eli mumbles, eyes drifting shut again.
“It does, doesn’t it?” I chuckle, slipping an arm around him to help him sit up. He’s so tired he practically folds into me. “Come on, pretty boy. I need to get you home and into bed.”
***
That fucker didn’t answer a single one of my questions.
Not even when I threatened to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.
“You know,” Eli says as we walk across the quiet yard toward one of the houses, “he might’ve actually talked to you if your first question wasn’t ‘how the heck can I kill your boss without him knowing?’”
“I said, how the fuck, sweetheart,” I correct, guiding him up the porch steps with a hand on his back. “And I don’t actually want to kill Maverick. I just figured if I caught his man off guard, his face might give something away.”
“The only thing it gave away,” Eli mutters, “is that whatever Maverick pays him, he needs to double it.”
He’s walking so damn slowly. Every step looks like it costs him something.
It’s a good thing the door’s unlocked because I’m done wasting time.
I scoop him up without a second thought and make a beeline for the stairs.
“Put me down, you buffoon!” he yelps, struggling weakly. “You can’t just pick someone my size up. Your knees and back will give out, and we’ll both go toppling down the steps!”
I huff a laugh, tightening my hold as I climb.
“Sweetheart,” I say, kissing the top of his head, “I could carry you up five flights of stairs, over two bikes, and climb a damn refrigerator before my knees gave out. I’m very fucking strong.”
He goes quiet for a second.
“You still shouldn’t risk it,” he sighs. “I would’ve made it… eventually.”
But his head drops against my shoulder anyway, like his body trusts me even if his mind doesn’t…yet.
I carry him into the bedroom and lay him gently on the bed. He sinks into the mattress with a sigh.
I move to take off his shoes.
“Oh, I can—”
“Close your eyes, baby,” I cut in before he can finish. “Just let me take care of you. We can argue about it later.”
His lips part like he wants to protest, but exhaustion hits him first. His eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing his cheeks, and he melts back against the pillow with a soft, helpless exhale that punches right through my chest.
“I’m glad these houses come furnished,” he says sleepily. “My bed is nowhere near as comfortable as this one. I might never leave it.”
“I think I’d be okay with that, pretty boy,” I say, pulling the blanket out from beneath him and tucking him in. “Get some sleep. I’ll check on you in a little while.”
“You don’t have to,” he starts. “I’ll be—”
I don’t let him finish.
I lean in and press my lips to his…soft, careful, just enough to stop the words from tumbling out.
He jolts like I shocked him. His eyes fly open.
“You don’t get to brush me off anymore,” I murmur against his lips. “Not when I almost lost you today.”
When I pull back, his eyes are half-open, dazed and warm, the exhaustion cracking just enough to show the emotion underneath.
His throat works around a swallow, and his voice comes out barely a whisper.
“I wouldn’t have died.”
My chest tightens. “You could have,” I say quietly. “If you’d hit your head on the side of the tub, sweetheart? Yeah, you damn well could’ve.”
He looks thrown, confused, searching my face for answers he doesn’t understand.
“Why are you saying stuff like that?” he asks. “Like you… almost lost me? We’re not even…we’re not a couple. We’ve only just met.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing my thumb along his jaw so he has to look at me.
“Eli,” I say, voice low and rough, “I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Why do you think I flirt with you every time we’re in the same room?”
His brows pull together, and his voice comes out tiny.
“But… you flirt with everyone. You could find someone actually… worthy of you. Someone beautiful. Sexy. Confident. Someone who isn’t—”
“Stop.”
The word comes out sharper than I intend, because hearing him talk about himself like that?
Not fucking happening.
“I do flirt with everyone,” I say, “because it means nothing. Noise. Habit. Whatever. I never truly put any thought into it.”
I lean closer, eyes locked on his.
“But you? You make it mean something, pretty boy,” I admit. “I’m always putting thought into what I say to you just to see you blush. It’s quickly becoming my favorite hobby.”
He swallows hard.
“You act like… like I’m special,” he murmurs, almost like he’s afraid to believe it.
“That’s because you are,” I smile, softer this time. “And it pisses me off that you don’t see it. That you think so little of yourself. That you think someone like me wouldn’t want someone like you.”
He looks overwhelmed…breath shaky, eyes too bright, body tired and trembling.
I feel him starting to shut down again. Not the medical kind, the emotional kind.
So I lift my hands, palms open, voice gentling.
“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll slow down. I swear, sweetheart. I’m not trying to push you off a cliff.”
His eyes flick up to mine, uncertain but hopeful.
“But don’t doubt for a second,” I continue, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, “that in the end? You and I will be a thing.”
Eli breathes out, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob, but something in between.
I grip his hands, and for the first time tonight, he doesn’t try pulling away. He just sinks deeper into the pillow, staring at me with so much hope and confusion swirling behind those eyes.
“Go to sleep, baby,” I say, standing and lifting his hand so I can kiss his palm before I let it go. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
This time, as I walk toward the door, the stubborn man doesn’t argue.
“Good boy,” I wink at him over my shoulder and chuckle when he yanks the blanket over his head.
It’s too dark to see, but I know he’s blushing under those blankets.
I can practically feel the heat from over here.