“Oh, sweetheart,” I whisper, “you really have no idea, do you?”
“My landlord upped my rent,” he blurts, cutting me off before I can confess a single damn thing. I shut my mouth instantly. Fine. He can spill his heart first. I’ll admit mine later.
“He added a hundred a month,” Eli continues, voice thin and tired. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t pay it, I’d be kicked out. It left me broke until my next payday. I didn’t have enough for food or bills.”
My chest tightens.
“With my condition,” he whispers, “I have to have food. At least a little. I have to have air conditioning or at least a fan so I don’t get too hot. So… with no other choice, I found a job at a local club that paid me nightly before I went home.”
A club?
He’s working at afucking club?
“It’s not much, but it’s money,” he says quickly, like he’s bracing for me to yell. “I paid my electric bill, got some food, and I can afford the cabs to get me to the garage. But… I could feel my body slowing down. I was getting maybe two hours of sleep each night before my shift at the garage. Then I’d leave there and go straight to the club. All I have to do is clean the back rooms where the members play.”
Play?My jaw clenches.
“Are you working at a damn nightclub, Eli?” I ask slowly.
He flinches. He still won’t open his eyes.
“I don’t do anything but clean,” he says firmly. “I was told if I cleaned during club hours…kept every room and the equipment ready for the next client…I’d get paid under the table before I left. It wasn’t bad. I never really had to deal with the people.”
My fists curl around his hand. He never had to deal with the people? Yeah, that’s not comforting.
“But last night,” he continues, “I was so tired I could barely stand. My boss told me to leave early, and he’d still pay me. He’s really nice. Always made sure I felt safe.”
If he thinks that statement is calming. He’s dead wrong.
“But considering what I have to clean,” Eli adds with a grimace, “I always shower when I get home. Last night, I was so tired. But I didn’t feel like my body was about to shut down. I just felt… bone-deep exhaustion.”
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.
Fuckingbrokenunder 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. “Youworkedas a janitor at a sex club. Past tense. That stops now. You’re way too fucking precious to be hanging around that lot.”
