Page 49 of Wedge

“Is there a problem here?” Stephen says, low, stepping half in front of me without seeming to notice he’s doing it.

Manuel looks him over, unbothered, like he’s determining exactly how much of a problem Stephen could actually be and deciding the number’s low. “Wasn’t talking to you, butt-fucker.” He takes a last drag, flicks the butt toward the stairwell, and finally steps back toward his own door. “See you around, Adrian. Or maybe I won’t. Guess that depends on your boyfriend here.”

His door clicks shut, the deadbolt sliding home, and the hallway feels larger once he’s gone from it. Somewhere behind the wall, a TV starts up again, too loud, a game show in Spanish.

Stephen’s jaw is tight enough that I can see the muscle working. “That happen a lot?”

“Enough.” I push my door open, pulling him through it, shutting it harder than necessary behind us. The apartment is stuffy and dim, the air smelling faintly of dust and old laundry. “He’s mostly noise.”

“Mostly,” Stephen repeats the word like it tastes bad. “Adrian, he’s tracking when your truck’s gone. Then he tells you things happen to empty apartments. That’s not noise. That’s recon and a threat.”

“I know.” I don’t actually know what to do with that, so I busy myself emptying my duffel bag of dirty clothes instead, trying to make the whole thing smaller than it is. “He’s all talk. He’s never actually done anything.”

“How long have you been living next door to that?”

“Two years. It’s cheap, it’s close to the range, it works.” I stuff shirts into my laundry basket, not looking at him. “I don’t love it either, if that helps. But I can afford it.”

He crosses the room, takes the basket out of my hands, sets it down, and just holds onto my shoulders instead, waiting until I look at him.

“I want you to stay with me,” he says. “Please.”

“Look, you can’t just move me in. I appreciate you’re concerned.” I take hold of his face and stare up into those kind brown eyes, kiss him softly. “No one has ever been concerned for me. But I have dealt with this guy for two years. He is all hot air.”

His eyes cut to my front door, then back to me. “That lock wouldn’t stop a determined twelve-year-old. I won’t sleep knowing he’s one wall away from you.” His voice gentles. “If you don’t want my place, I’ll get you a hotel. Or Ben’s guest house. Just not here.”

“Stephen. I don’t want to spend your money on a hotel, and Ben’s already doing enough.”

“Then we go to a hardware store this afternoon, and I put on every deadbolt they sell. But I’d rather have you home with me. Your choice.”

I gape like a fish. Not a pretty fish, like a Koi. More like a catfish.

“You’d install deadbolts.”

“Baby, I’d lock this place down like an embassy and hate every minute of it.”

I laugh, I can’t help it, and it takes some of the air out of the room. Then the real objection climbs up my throat.

“You’ve only known me for…”

He cuts me off.

“We’ve lived together all summer. Motel after cheap motel. I know your tells better than anyone alive. When you want to be touched, when you need it, and when you absolutely don’t. You know mine now. Kung Pao pork, never beef. Pancakes drowning in syrup. Enough sour cream on a potato to count as a food group. Pineapple on your damned pizza. You like your hugs tight, and your cock warmed.” He steps closer, so I have to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. “And I let you fuck me. And I absolutely loved it.”

Jesus, he really played that card. Well, even. Very. Fucking. Well. I feel the fight drain out of me, and it isn’t because he won. It’s because he’s right, and the real reason I’m arguing has nothing to do with Manuel.

“I don’t want to owe you,” I say, small. “Every time somebody does something for me, I start counting. I don’t know how to stop.”

“Then don’t count.” His hands slide up to frame my face. “This isn’t a favor, Adrian. It’s just where you live. Different math, remember? Pay me a dollar a month if it helps.”

“A dollar.”

“I’ll frame the first one.”

That gets a wet laugh out of me.

“You’re saying you want to be my Daddy, you know,” I whisper.

His eyes flare with a bit of confusion. He doesn’t know what that means.