The Billionaire Next Door

She smiled at the hoarse sound of his voice. “Are you always going to ask that?”

“If things keep up like this, yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Be right back.”

As Sean disappeared into the bathroom, she lost her grin and the bed got cold fast.

What was she doing? This…whatever it was…with him was so awkward. Even though they were great together in bed, she didn’t know whether there could be anything else between them.

She sat up and looked around for her T-shirt. She found it just as he came in.

“Can I stay?” he asked as she pulled the thing over her head.

Yanking her hair free of the collar, she said, “Sean…I don’t know. What just happened was probably a mistake.”

As he put his hands on his hips, she had to fight to ignore how astoundingly beautiful he was naked.

She cleared her throat. “I think you should go.”

Because given that she was conflicted, if he stuck around, she was liable to be swayed by his proximity.

Good Lord, who wouldn’t be swayed by a man like this?

For a moment, she thought he was going to argue, but then he nodded and bent down to the floor. He pulled his trousers on commando, picked up his boxers and his shirt and jacket and went to the door.

“Mind if I call you?”

“Don’t ask me that, Sean. Do it or don’t.”

His brows dropped down low. “Fair enough.”

He turned away and didn’t look back.

As his footsteps went down the hall, her heart felt like a lead ball in her chest.

Just as she heard the front door open, something made her spring out of bed and run for the living room. She stopped herself in the hall, though.

Desperation was not good in situations like this.

Keeping herself in check, she watched him shut her door then listened to him go up the stairs and settle directly above her.

He was sleeping on the couch again.

As she went back to her bed, she wondered why he did that. And was reminded of why a relationship would be so difficult with him.

It was hard to fall in love with someone who couldn’t share himself with you.

***

In Sean’s dream, the one that really got to him, the one that was the worst of the bunch, he was ten years old and coming home from dinner at a friend’s house. It was winter and the snow was falling. His too-small boots were squeezing his toes until they were numb. His mittens had holes at the tips of the fingers and the pads of the thumbs. His jacket was thin and dirty.

But his stomach was full and that made all the difference. His school buddy, Butch O’Neal, had a mother who was a cook and a half. And as the O’Neals had five kids, one more mouth was no big deal.

Sean went over to their house a lot.

As he walked along in the dark, the snowbanks came up to his shoulders and he imagined himself on the ice planet Hoth from theStar Wars movies. He was Han Solo back from rescuing Luke…and Princess Leia was waiting at home for him.

He smiled, picturing himself as a hero.

Except then he came up to his house. All the lights were off on the top floor and the TV was flickering blue and green in the front window.

Lights off was a bad sign.

He looked at the downstairs unit. It was dark, as well, because the tenants had moved out a week ago. That always made things worse.

It happened a lot. Those first-floor people never stayed long. He had a feeling they didn’t like the noises that came from upstairs and he could understand why. He didn’t like the noises, either. He would have moved out if he could have.

Though his teeth were chattering, he hung around outside, packing snowballs and watching the TV do its thing in the living room. He wondered where his brothers were. He figured Mac would be at work still and Billy would be in their room in bed. Billy was always asleep if he was home. Didn’t matter what time of the day it was, if he was there, you’d find him with his head under his pillow and the blankets up to his chin.

When Sean couldn’t stand the cold any longer, he walked up the front steps and went to the door. He had to turn the knob a couple of times because his mittens were slippery from the snow and his hands were stiff.

And maybe because he would have given anything to have somewhere else to go.

He stepped into the foyer and was careful to be very quiet as he went up to his apartment. The higher he got on the stairs, the drier his mouth became until he was swallowing nothing at all and his tongue was like sandpaper.

He took off his right mitten and went for the doorknob. It was locked.

He closed his eyes and shivered. He knew why his father did this and it wasn’t to keep out thieves. It was so Eddie O’Banyon would have to be inconvenienced when his sons came home. So he would have to get out of his chair and weave across the room. So he would be justified in what came next.

Sean lifted his little hand and formed a loose, insubstantial fist. He knocked as quietly as he could, as if maybe it would bother his father less.

Didn’t work.

A monster opened the door. And a monster dragged him inside. And a monster ripped his dirty snow jacket.

But before things got really bad, Mac came bursting into the apartment, home just in time. Sean had some impression of getting thrown in his room, not by his father, but by his brother. And then his door clapped shut.

As he landed in a heap, his face was throbbing to the beat of his heart and his knees were weak and the food that Mrs. O’Neal had made was a lead weight in his gut.

He started in with the dry heaves.

“W-w-wait! D-d-don’t throw up on the r-r-rug!” Billy stammered.

There was a scramble over by the desk and then a wastepaper basket was shoved under Sean’s face. Billy held him off the floor as he threw up Mrs. O’Neal’s dinner and the only good thing about the retching was that it drowned out the noises from the living room.

Except then the nausea passed and they heard everything.

“Oh God…” Sean whispered as a loud thump hit the wall just outside their bedroom.

Billy started to cry.

The two of them ended up in Sean’s bed with the sheets pulled up over their heads. They trembled together as they listened. Eventually, it all went silent.

Sean waited for exactly one hour. He timed it, watching the alarm clock on the bureau, the one that got them up for school.

Then he shifted off the bed.

“Where are you g-g-going?” Billy whispered.

Sean didn’t want his little brother to come. Didn’t want Billy to see. “Go back to sleep.”

“B-b-be careful.”

“Shhh.”

Sean cracked open the door and winced as the thing creaked. Going utterly still, he waited while his heart pounded, and when nothing came at him, he slipped out into the hall. The TV was still on, still flickering, the glow throwing shadows as if things were coming at him.

There was something wet on the floor.

Sean was shaking as he went into his older brother’s bedroom and he was careful as he shut the door behind him. Quiet. Had to stay quiet. He didn’t want to wake the demon, although their father was likely passed out cold.

“Mac?” The room was dark and he couldn’t see much, just the outline of the furniture. “Mac?”

There was a shuffling noise, as if someone had moved a leg or an arm.

With his eyes still adjusting, he went over to his brother’s bed out of memory. But there was no one in it.

“Where are you?”

Another shuffle.

Sean tracked the sound over to the corner.

And that was where he found his fifteen-year-old brother, on the floor in a ball, hidden on the far side of his bureau.

“Mac, are you okay?” He went over and when he reached out, he felt something wet. He knew it wasn’t tears. Mac never cried, no matter how bad it got. “Mac?”

“Go to bed.” The voice was nothing but an exhausted whisper, more hoarse breath than words.