“True.” The humour in Zac’s tone faded. “I quite like my bed, though. It’s the first one I’ve had in a while.”
Liam’s chest tightened. “You didn’t have a bed in London?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t have much of anything. It was a strange time.”
“I’ve had my fair share of those.”
Zac hummed, and Liam sucked in a breath. He gets me. Zac didn’t know him any better than he knew Zac, but the empathy in that low hum said far more than any words ever could.
“So . . .” Liam sat up and looked out of the van’s window, searching for the stars to remind him that the whole world was out there waiting for him. Here goes nothing. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to see you, if you’re not busy.”
Silence, then a barely audible sigh. “I have to go into Norwich in the morning, but I’m free in the afternoon. What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking you could maybe come over? Spend the night if you wanted to?”
“Spend the night? At your house?”
“If you like. I could show you the beach, cook you some dinner, let you catch up on your sleep . . .”
“Are you making fun of me for falling asleep every time I see you?”
“Maybe.” Liam actually found it pretty fucking endearing that Zac had trusted him enough to take a nap in his presence. After all, what would have stopped Liam taking his money back and kicking him to the kerb? Liam didn’t know much about the kind of men who used Zac’s services, but he was willing to bet they cared a hell of lot less about Zac’s welfare than he did.
“Where’s your house?”
Liam caught his imagination before it could conjure up images of Zac being robbed, beaten, and left in a dirty alley by an unscrupulous john. “Holkham.”
“I know that, duh, but where? Is there a bus stop nearby?”
It was on the tip of Liam’s tongue to offer to pick Zac up, but the thought of opening the front door to find him on the doorstep was too tempting to deny.
He gave Zac directions to the house. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow? Come over whenever you like. I’ll be in.”
“See you tomorrow. And, Liam?”
“Yeah?
“I can’t fucking wait.”
Zac woke with a jump, excitement churning in his belly. He felt like a kid at Christmas, and was up and in the shower before he thought to check the time: 6 a.m. Damn. He’d only been asleep a few hours. Though when he’d curled up in bed, clutching his phone, he’d been certain he wouldn’t find sleep at all.
He pressed his hand over his chest and his heart quickened as he recalled Liam’s late-night phone call and how his soft, slightly slurred voice had warmed Zac from the inside out. He’d waited all night for the phone to ring and had almost given up hope when it had finally buzzed under his pillow.
Zac washed himself from head to toe, lingering under the hot water, a luxury he could afford now Liam had paid his bills for the next month, maybe longer if he was careful. After that he’d have to think of something else, because for the first time in as long as he could remember, the numbness he’d carried had faded to nothing, and turning tricks felt like it really would kill him. I only want Liam to touch me.
The notion stayed with Zac as he got out of the shower. Liam’s touch had been indelibly imprinted on his soul from the beginning, but hooking was all he knew, and there probably weren’t many jobs for retired whores—
A noise somewhere in the flat stopped Zac in his tracks, his hand on the bathroom door, his imagination already in Liam’s arms. It sounded like it had come from the living room, but that couldn’t be right. Zac had been alone since Liam had left him on the doorstep, and the landlord wasn’t due to inspect the flat until the end of the month.
So why the fuck could he hear voices?
Zac yanked on a pair of damp trackies and left the bathroom, fists clenched, ready for whatever he found. He’d lived in too many squats to imagine it would be anything pleasant.
He opened the living room door. Jamie was sitting on the couch, grubby shoes still on and his hood up, partially obscuring his face. The scene seemed normal—for them, at least—until Zac sensed they weren’t alone.
