Chapter 18
EVAN
I was in a pissy mood when I met up with the guys. Everyone gave me hell for being in a funk, so I tried to fake it despite doing a terrible job of it.
“Seriously, Paige,” one of my old coworkers said with a frown. “What the hell’s wrong with you tonight? I thought you were cool with going to a club.”
I looked up at the entrance to the dance club they’d chosen.
It was fine. I was happy to help Cody celebrate and catch up with all the guys, but I was having a hard time not worrying about Stevie.
He was killing himself to make enough money to support his family when I was sitting on a fat savings account I’d accumulated after twenty-five years of earning more money than I spent on just myself.
My house had been paid for by an inheritance from my grandfather, and some of my woodworking projects brought in money here and there.
My tastes weren’t extravagant, and I lived in a small town with few temptations for big expenditures.
So why wouldn’t he let me help him? And why did I feel like offering him money again would make him feel like some kind of rent boy?
“Dude, focus. You almost ran into that guy.”
My head came up to see the big bearded man scoff at me over his shoulder as I made my way through the crowd toward a table someone had saved for us. The place was packed, and music thumped hard enough to make me worry for my heart.
Someone pushed a drink into my hand and pointed to the dance number about to start on the main stage.
Within seconds one of the dancers on stage caught my attention.
A small, slender guy with pale skin and natural rhythm.
Each of the featured dancers who emerged from behind a curtain had an elaborate feathered mask, jewels and feathers seemingly glued to their upper chest, and a large plume of feathers attached to the back of a skimpy pair of boy shorts.
It was a riot of color, all of the dancers displaying their individual shade.
But one of the dancers was in all black.
He was the littlest guy up there, and instead of jewels on his chest, he wore black feathered epaulettes.
His mask, shorts, and tail feathers were all the same silky black, strikingly set off by his pale winter skin.
He was stunning.
Even though he was small, his body was curved with defined dancer’s muscles, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
He was transported by the music—almost like he wasn’t actually there with us but on another plane.
He was in his own world, caressed by the rhythm and one with the beat.
He displayed an intoxicating blend of grace and strength.
Every sultry roll of his hips showed off slender abs.
Every deep, open-legged squat showed the power of his quads and calves.
When he spun around, I saw sinewy back muscles over a slim waist, a waist that would feel so fucking amazing between my hands.
A waist that did feel amazing between my hands.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
“You okay, Chief?” someone at my table asked.
“That’s my boyfriend,” I said without thinking. The table of guys hooted and hollered, several of them claiming he was their boyfriend too, assuming I’d been joking.
“No, you assholes. That’s actually my boyfriend.”
Before I decide what to do, my phone buzzed for the third time in as many minutes in my pocket. I wasn’t on call, but as the chief of the Hobie FD, it was part of my job to always be reachable.
The text on the screen was from Sassy.
West found Stevie’s mom on a 72-hour psych hold at hospital. Stevie not answering phone. What do I do? Worried about Willow!
I glanced up at the beautiful man dancing his heart out on stage.
Willow at Dina’s. I know where Stevie is. I’ll get him and bring him to hospital.
Leaning over toward Cody, I apologized for leaving.
“Sorry, but something’s come up. I’ll take you and Eric for dinner soon.
Would love to introduce you to Stevie,” I said, nodding toward the black-feathered dancer.
Cody’s eyes widened in appreciation of my boyfriend’s stunning form shimmying to the beat of the club track, and I had to restrain myself from growling at him to put his damned eyeballs back in their sockets.
As I walked toward the bar to inquire about how to meet up with Stevie after his dance routine, I saw all the patrons in the place salivating over my man. Did it make me jealous? Hell yes. Did I also feel incredibly smug that he was mine and mine alone? Fuck yes.
But now wasn’t the time to strut around like an asshole. I had to find him and tell him the news before taking him to the hospital and most likely staying with him while he had to deal with some tough realities.
“What do you want to drink?” the bartender asked.
“Oh, no. I need to meet one of your dancers after he’s done,” I shouted over the music, thumbing over my shoulder at the stage. The bartender and at least three men around me snorted.
“Don’t we all. Save your breath. Unless you’ve got large bills, you ain’t getting any from those young guys,” one of the men said.
I ground my teeth together before trying again. “The dancer in the black feathers is my boyfriend. There’s been a family emergency. His mom is in the hospital.”
The bartender’s smirk faded, and he nodded. “Let me get Darius. He’ll help.”
I was waiting in the manager’s office when he brought Stevie in. He wore a pink tank over his black boy shorts and looked like a puppy who was getting ready to be bopped on the nose with a newspaper.
“C’mere,” I said gruffly, reaching for him and pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you. You were fucking amazing up there. Stunning. I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you.”
“Really?” he asked in a breathy voice. “You’re not mad at me?”
I put him at arm’s length and held on to his shoulders so I could look into his eyes.
“I wish you’d felt comfortable enough to tell me what you were doing, but no.
I’m not mad at you. I’m upset, but only because you’re trying so hard to support your family that it’s going to break you down one of these days.
I want to help you, baby. Financially, I mean.
I don’t want you killing yourself working three jobs.
If you want to dance here because you love it, then I’ll support you one hundred percent.
If you’re doing it to make more money, though, we’re going to talk, because you’re burning out, sweetheart. But right now, we need to go.”
“What do you mean? I can’t go. I still have several hours left.”
I cupped his face in my hands. “Your mom is in the hospital. Sassy tried to get a hold of you and texted me when she couldn’t get you.”
“Is that how you found me?”
“No, baby. I was here with the guys for Cody’s bachelor party thing. I just so happened to see you up there right before she texted me.”
“Wait, what? Mom’s in the hospital?” My words about the situation seemed to finally sink in. “What the hell happened? Is she okay? Where has she been?”
I ran my hands up and down his arms. “It’s a psychiatric hold. I don’t know the details. That’s why we need to go. Grab your things and I’ll drive us in your car. I rode to town with one of the guys.”
Stevie made his way back to the dancer lounge in a daze, emerging a minute later with a backpack. He still only wore the tank and boy shorts, so I quickly slipped my jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders while taking the backpack from him.
We didn’t talk on the drive back. Stevie tried calling the hospital to get more information, but they were tight-lipped since he couldn’t prove he was related to her until he showed his ID.
When we were only fifteen minutes out from the hospital, we finally got a hold of the doctor in charge of her case.
“Someone found her standing on the edge of an overpass,” he said in a sympathetic voice over speakerphone after asking Stevie if he knew of her drug use history and hearing his emphatic no.
“She wasn’t responsive to law enforcement’s attempts to talk to her, so they involved emergency medical help.
We determined enough risk to her safety to put her on a seventy-two-hour hold.
Jodi asked us not to contact her family members, but it’s my understanding she’s now spoken to Dr. Wilde and rescinded that request.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Stevie asked. I reached over and clasped his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I think so. We’ve gone through some counseling already and done quite a bit of intake information gathering.
Of course we’d love to talk to you as well, Mr. Devore, but as of right now I’d say she’s suffering from severe depression that can most likely be treated successfully with a combination of counseling and medication. ”
Stevie glanced at me before looking out the window again. “I don’t… I mean we don’t…” he exhaled. “She doesn’t have insurance.”
“I’ll cover it,” I said firmly before he could argue. “It’s important, and I have the money.”
“There are some programs that can help also,” the doctor continued. “I’m happy to put you in touch with a community liaison who can steer you in the right direction. In the meantime, why don’t we plan on meeting for a joint counseling session tomorrow at four if that works for you?”
“Yes, sir,” Stevie said, nodding. “We’ll be there. Thank you so much for your help. If you see her before then, please tell her I love her and have everything under control at home.”
“I certainly will.”
We continued the drive to my house without speaking. Stevie held on to my hand with both of his like it was a lifeline. When I pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, Stevie turned to me.
“Evan, I need your help. I don’t think I can do this by myself anymore.”
Hearing him say those words was almost more meaningful than hearing him tell me he loved me. Because I knew he finally trusted me enough to let go. He finally accepted that I was on his side and he didn’t need to be alone anymore.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to do anything by yourself ever again.”