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“Don’t.” His bottom lip trembles, and his eyes are too wide. My boy looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and I want to kiss them away, but he won’t let me. I’ll let him keep the distance between us for now, but it won’t be forever.
I take a tentative step toward him, and he tries to put more space between us but trips over a table. With quick reflexes, I grab his arms and pull him against me to keep him from crashing to the floor. His breathing is ragged, and his fingers are digging into my skin as he grips onto me. The alcohol on his breath and the faint remnants of his shampoo are intoxicating.
“You okay?” My eyes rake over his face, taking in the dark circles and exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. He’s so far past tired it’s not even funny, but it’s not the kind that sleep fixes.
Eli closes his eyes and sucks in a shaky breath, then shudders. “Please don’t touch me.”
The pain in his voice is a knife to my heart. A boulder drops into my stomach as my hands fall from him, and I step back. I hate that I bring that kind of pain to him just by being here, and I know there’s a ton I still need to tell him, but I can’t tonight. He’s not ready to hear it.
“You should drink some water, take some painkillers, and rest.” I shove my hands in my pockets despite the clawing need to wrap my arms around him and breathe him in. “You’ve only gotten a few hours of shitty sleep. The tub could not have been comfortable the last few days.”
“I don’t want or need you to take care of me.” Eli’s words cut me to the core. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own for years.” He turns his back to me and heads to the bathroom. I force myself to watch him go. Once the door is closed, I drop down onto the bed and drop my head back with a sigh. It’s going to be a long month.
I haven’t gotten any more sleep than Eli, but my head won’t shut down. I turn the TV on and flip through the channels, stopping for a few minutes to catch the highlights from a game from last season.
My body wants to move, buzzes with the urge, so I change into gym shorts and strip off my shirt to start doing push-ups and sit-ups. Even though I worked out a few hours ago, I want to run, but frankly, I can’t trust Eli to stay put. He’s obviously not above getting drunk and doing stupid shit, so now I need to watch him. How quickly I fall back into taking care of him. It’s so easy.
I’ve tried giving him space since we got here, but he obviously can’t take care of himself. Not really.
On instinct, I call the front desk and request an older camera that uses film instead of digital for Eli and some paperback books. I’m sure he can read on his phone, but he used to love to read physical books. He said there was nothing like the smell and feel of the pages. Since I haven’t been around in a while, I have to guess at what books to get him, but I pick a few that I know he used to read over and over.
It takes a while, but I manage to exhaust my mind and my body so I can sleep. I drop face down onto the bed and pass out, but my dreams are haunted by the ghost of my best friend.
A door latching closed wakes me. My eyes pop open, and I sit up automatically. It’s been years since I’ve had to be responsible for anyone, but I guess some instincts never really go away. The toilet flushes and rustling around the room tells me he’s getting dressed. I scrub a hand down my face and stand. I guess he came out here to grab clothes. The boxers I wear to sleep in ride low on my hips as I make my way to my dresser, then call down to the front desk for food.
Crepes, fresh fruit, eggs, bacon, ham, and sausages along with coffee, juice, and milk are set up on the table a few minutes later, thanks to a resort employee. I take a seat and shove some food into my mouth, listening for Eli. He doesn’t take long to finish up, but when he takes too long to come out here to eat, I turn in my seat to find him looking unsure of himself in a white crop top T-shirt and baby blue shorts that stop at mid-thigh.
I drink him in, greedy for every drop of him I can get. His shoulders are rounded, his head bowed, and his fingers are picking at a nail. The poor boy is uncomfortable, but I’m not entirely sure why since I want to strip those clothes off and lose myself in him. Is he embarrassed by what he thinks I will think? That I’ll think less of him for dressing less “masculine”?
“Hey.” I nod toward his seat at the table. Forcing my eyes away from the bared skin of his abdomen is harder than I would like to admit. The urge to drag my lips along the skin right around his waistband is strong. Imagining the breathy moans as I nip and taste his flesh has my dick hard as a fucking rock.
Why didn’t I put pants on?
“Come eat.” I take a drink of my coffee to clear the food from my throat. “How are you feeling today?”
Eli takes his seat and looks over the spread that’s been left for us, picking a few things to put on his plate.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles but doesn’t look at me, which bothers me.Fucking look at me. Give me those eyes, baby.
“What is your plan for the day?” I shove some perfectly ripe mango in my mouth, but Eli just shrugs at me. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to spend time with. I have a lot of explaining to do, a lot to make up for. I know.”
Eli’s lip trembles as he pushes fruit around his plate, and he chews on his lip as he watches the water.
I get up and walk around the table, push his chair back, and hunker down between his feet. As badly as I want to touch him, I don’t. I leave my hands on the arms of the chair.
“What are you doing?” His voice wavers.
“Eli, I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you.” I close my eyes for a minute, sucking in a deep breath before I’m able to meet his eyes again. Tears are welling in his, and I want to cup his cheeks so fucking bad, but I don’t think I can handle him telling me to not touch him right now, so I keep my hands to myself. “I knew Marcus was dead when I sent that text and walked away.”
Eli crumbles before me, his body folding in half while tears stream down his cheeks before his hands cup his face. An agonizing cry leaves his mouth, a long, drawn-out sound that breaks my heart and makes me feel even worse. Guilt and shame eat at me like acid in my stomach.
“You knew, but you left me anyway?” He rocks in his chair. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead too. You were just gone! I searched the internet, called hospitals and morgues looking for you!” he screams at me through the anguish that’s been crushing him since I left. He jerks up out of the chair, sending it crashing to the deck behind him. “You don’t do that to people you love!”
I stand, and he shoves me, his hands pushing and slapping at me.
Tears clog my throat, making it hard to breathe as I watch this beautiful broken boy fall apart before me.
“I hate you!” He shoves me again, his face red and puffy, with tear tracks down his skin.
