Chapter Three #3
“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 absolutely was.
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.”
Marc leaned back in his chair, his brow wrinkling. “Maybe there’s a middle ground. If—and it’s a big if—this young man turns out to be with Ryan and Zane, perhaps they could act as intermediaries. Find out what kind of help he actually needs, rather than what we assume he needs.”
Avery nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “That makes perfect sense. I’ll send Zane a text, then go from there.”
The idea of having a buffer between himself and Eli appealed to him more than he’d expected.
If the young man truly was terrified, having Avery show up at Zane's door would likely send him fleeing again.
But Ryan—with his gentle manner and obvious experience helping people in crisis—might be able to bridge that gap.
“Good plan." Marc lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To finding solutions instead of creating more problems.”
Avery managed a smile as he joined the toast, though the weight in his chest hadn't entirely lifted. If Ryan’s guest wasn’t Eli, then he was right back where he started: agonizing over whether Eli was safe.