William couldn’t imagine Adathan reacting badly to Oliver’s scars, not with his training. Still, he hoped his intuition was right. Oliver’s support was crucial. It would be a disaster if they didn’t get along.
“Just told Oliver we’re almost there,” William said as he put his phone away. He took the umbrella back from Adathan and held it carefully over them both.
Adathan wore his teal shirt from hell for the occasion, and his only good pair of pants. Soon, he’d have more to choose from—high-quality clothes that no longer fit Oliver. Oliver had always had a great fashion sense. With luck, only a few hems would be needed, and Adathan would have a better wardrobe than William.
“I’m excited to meet him!” Adathan said, hugging a food container to his chest. It held oatmeal raisin cookies he’d made.Oliver’s favorites. William had sampled one and been tempted to keep them all to himself.
“He’s looking forward to it, too,” William said.
Oliver hadn’t exactly said it, but William sensed his anxiety came not only from fearing Adathan’s reaction but also from the desire to make a new friend. Since leaving the hospital, he’d interacted only with William and health care professionals. He’d cut ties with his family long ago, and William doubted he’d bought anything in person since the accident.
William begged the universe for tonight to go smoothly.
He stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the right of way even though there were no cars in sight. If he were alone, he would have crossed the street, but it didn’t feel right to make Adathan break the law—even a small one.
So they waited.
It was almost eerie seeing the city like this, quiet and sinister, as if they were the sole survivors of an apocalypse. William strained to see past the thick curtain of rain, but there was no sign of life in any direction. A chill ran down his spine, and he had the sudden impulse to pull Adathan close.
But Adathan needed no protecting. He was smart, resourceful, and resilient.
A pang of discomfort pierced William’s gut at the thought—one he wasn’t proud of. He should be feeling happy Adathan was adapting so quickly. Not... whatever this was.
“You look tense,” Adathan said.
William forced a smile. “Nah,” he said as they crossed the street. “Just a bit tired.”
“Did you have a bad day?”
Bad was an understatement. They’d had their first company-wide meeting with the new director, during which their fears were confirmed. The company wasn’t profitable.
According to her, it was a productivity issue, andmeasureswould be deployed to remedy the situation. William knew what that meant: budget cuts. And who would pay the price? Those at the bottom.
Even if he wasn’t laid off, William wouldn’t be getting a raise this year.
“I...” William hesitated. He hated lying to Adathan, but he also didn’t have the energy to explain everything that was at stake. He’d only make Adathan feel responsible. “Sort of. I just don’t really like my job.”
“That’s awful.”
William shrugged. “Most people don’t like their jobs.”
“Can you get a new one?”
“Sadly, it’s not that simple.” William looked at him, and his chest squeezed at the deep concern etched across Adathan’s beautiful face. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. It’s just a rough patch.”
“Can I do anything to help?” Adathan asked.
“No—I mean, you’re already helping a lot.”
Adathan’s face lit up. “I am?”
“Yeah,” William said, his smile genuine this time. “Our home is a lot more comfortable now. It helps me relax after work. And you’re a great cook. And great company. And...” Warmth crept up the back of his neck, his pulse quickening as if he were confessing something embarrassing. “Your, uh, emails make me smile. But don’t feel like you have to do any of this,” he added quickly. “It’s not your responsibility.”
Adathan’s eyes crinkled. “But it can be my responsibility if I want, right?”
William huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah. But you’re allowed to change your mind any time if—”
William tensed as headlights blinded him. He tugged on Adathan’s arm and pulled him against his chest, narrowly avoiding a curtain of water thrown up by a roadside puddle.
