Bazel began putting away his tools. “I make tea when I done.” He went back to work, and Atlas closed the back door behind them.
“I need to say this before he comes in,” Chris said as soon as the door closed. “You like him, I can tell. And you need to be careful.”
“Chris…,” Atlas growled.
“Don’t give me that. This is a man who has been through hell, and he needs friends and people to be kind to him. The last thing he needs is to be sexed up by the person who is supposed to look after him.”
“I’m not sexing him up,” Atlas hissed. “He’s told me things, and yes, Bazel is gay. But I am not going to do anything with him. He asked me, and I said that he needed to figure out who he was and what he wanted.” He sat at the kitchen table. “He as good as invited me to his bed, and I turned him down. Does that seem like what you’re accusing me of?”
“I’m not making accusations. I saw the way he looked at you and how you got all soft and gooey around him. When you look at me, you’re Atlas the cop, the alpha male who likes to be in charge and in control of everything. But when you look at him….”
“I what?”
“You look like a kid in the candy store, staring at the biggest, best candy bar in the history of mankind. Your eyes light up and you smile. You’re gentle and kind and not at all the asshole you can be if you have to. The one that’s just below the surface right now.” Her features were hard as granite.
“So you want me to be a dick to him?” Atlas asked.
She leaned forward. “No. I want you to be careful. Bazel has really captured your interest in a way I didn’t think was possible, and in most cases I’d say that was an amazing thing. But as you said, he’s in a strange country, figuring things out, and he needs a chance to do that without a bunch of emotional drama coloring everything.”
“It’s not,” Atlas protested.
She held his gaze in a stare-down to rival the ages. “What would you say if I told you that I found a more permanent location for Bazel and that he was going to leave tomorrow?”
Atlas bit his lower lip, refusing to look away from her.
“Just what I thought. The first words that came to your mind were ‘over my dead body.’ Weren’t they?” She sat back. “I know you, Atlas. You’re one hell of a man, but you’ve kept parts of yourself locked away for a long time, and I think Bazel has slipped under those defenses of yours with the ease of a thief in the night. And while I’m not saying that’s bad, you need to be careful. Him having someone who cares is a tremendous thing. But don’t delude yourself into thinking that this is the right kind of atmosphere for the two of you to meet, fall in love, and find some sort of happy ever after. This isn’t a romance novel. His lifehas been a whirlwind, and the churning isn’t going to stop. So just give him and you a break.”
“I think I just said the exact same thing but with fewer words. He already asked, and I said what you just did.”
Chris nodded. “And what will you do when he asks a second or a third time? Because he will. You represent safety to him. You care, and he can feel it. That isn’t going to stop for him. Are you strong enough to tell that beautiful man, with eyes as dark as the night and sparkling like stars whenever he sees you, no?”
Atlas took a deep breath and then sighed softly. “What I think is that I will do what is best for him. That’s my job. So what I want isn’t important. And yes. I do not live my life ruled by my dick, and you know that.” He gave her one of those “so there” looks.
“This is different.”
“How so?”
It was her turn to hesitate. “Because you’re talking about sex, and I’m not just talking about that, but something much more complicated.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know. You think I’m falling in love.” Atlas swallowed hard. “You know me. Sometimes I don’t think I’m capable of that. Not really. If I let myself feel anything for someone, they turn out to be complete assholes and not worth my time. My history in that department is complete crap.”
Chris smiled as she opened the back door. “Maybe. But history isn’t always a good predictor of the future.”
Chapter 8
BAZEL WASgetting used to being alone for the days when Atlas was at work. He spent a lot of his time in the backyard, unless it was raining. Then he watched television… a lot. He liked the shows where people cooked or worked outside. But what he really liked was listening to them talk so he could make his English better. He started repeating what they said on TV the way they said it. He hoped it would help.
“You are home,” he began, when he heard Atlas’s key in the front door. “Did you have a good day?” He had to think about the words, but he hoped he said it right.
“It was okay,” Atlas told him as he closed the door and took off Evie’s harness. She shook and then hurried through the house. She visited him, and Bazel gave her strokes before following Atlas into the kitchen. The first thing he always did was feed Evie; it was a routine. Bazel figured that she worked hard and deserved it.
“What happened?” he asked. “It was quiet here today. The rain kept me from working in the garden.” He smiled. “I’m watching television to learn English better.”
“You’re doing great,” Atlas told him. It’s really good.” He sat in one of the chairs with a sigh. “The man who broke in, Wendell Horn—we can’t find him. He tried to get treatment at a hospital in Baltimore. They helped him, but he left before the police could get there.”
“I’m sorry. What can we do?”
“The police were able to get his medical records because he’s wanted, and he has a very bad infection.” He shook his head. “Without treatment he’s not going to be doing very well.”
