“Of course,” I agreed, and he smiled lazily, the now-familiar curl of his lip filling me with longing even as he fought the sleep I knew he needed. “You know you can close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t want you to have to leave your dad because of me.”
I took hold of his hand, and he squeezed tight. “My dad is doing great, and my mother’s with him. It’s like having a tiger there to protect him.”
His eyes dipped closed as he breathed deeply. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
I waited until I was sure he was asleep, slipped my hand from his, and got back on my laptop to make more arrangements. The more I thought about it, the more the idea of him ever having to go back to some squalid little space gave me hives. I needed to make certain that was no longer an option. Sending an email to the Rauch Group, I let them know I would be in on Tuesday, as I needed to take a personal day on Monday. Getting Jeremiah fully ensconced in a new life was my first priority.
At around five, the man I’d seen on his way out of Jeremiah’s room as I was on my way in opened the door, which I’d closed, and he met my gaze.
“Oh,” he uttered, “you’re still here.”
I squinted at him.
“I was going to come back in earlier but…” he trailed off.
“You saw us kissing,” I replied with a smile, using those sharp Sherlockian deductive reasoning skills of mine.
“Yeah,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably, and only then did I notice the large duffel bag he was holding. So much for my powers of observation.
“What is that?”
He winced like the answer to my question was painful. “All that’s left from Jeremiah’s apartment.”
“I’m sorry?”
Turning, he placed the duffel on the chair beside him and then came around the end of the bed to offer me his hand. “I’m ADA Evan McCauley.”
Standing, I put my laptop on the tray table and then took his hand. “I’m Cameron Gallagher. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He nodded. “Likewise,” he said, and gestured at the duffel. “So all kinds of exciting things happened at the apartment complex where Jeremiah used to live last night.”
“Used to live?”
“I’m afraid so. There was an electrical fire caused by a short in the wiring in the apartment downstairs from his,” McCauley explained, grimacing. “The people there weren’t home, the smoke detectors weren’t working, and the building itself was not up to code, so from what the firemen said, it went up like a tinder box.”
I was stunned. “You’re telling me Jeremiah’s apartment burned down?”
“No, I’m telling you it was engulfed in fire and that everything inside was destroyed. The walls were scorched, the drapes went up in flames, the carpet melted…you get the idea.”
“And it was an electrical fire?”
“There’s going to be an investigation, but I suspect, from looking at the place, that the wiring, as well as everything else, is substandard.”
I had to take a moment to parse the information. “So, if his apartment was gutted with fire, what’s with the duffel?”
“The only good news I have for him is that the fire was put out before it reached the bathroom, which, oddly enough, is where Jeremiah’s dresser was.”
“Pardon me?”
He snorted. “I know, right? I suppose it could make some sort of sense. You get out of the shower, and boom, there are your clothes, but it’s still weird if you ask me.”
I nodded. I was hoping Jeremiah wasn’t in love with that setup.
“The good news is his clothes, his laptop, and a pretty expensive watch made it out just fine.” He pulled my Seiko from the breast pocket of his blazer. “From the inscription, I’m guessing it’s yours.”
He handed it to me, and I placed it on my wrist, where it belonged, and then met his gaze. “Thank you. It is mine.”
“You’re very welcome,” he returned, and took a few breaths before he went on. “When I was in high school, I was a complete douchebag, because when you’re gay and you don’t want to be gay, you sort of vent on everyone else.”
I nodded. “I recall the type from my own high school experience.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that with guys like me, and”––he pointed at Jeremiah, sleeping in the bed––“I’m sorry he had to go through it with me personally.”
“I see.”
“I’ve been sort of overcompensating, trying to be nice to him and make amends,” he confessed, raking a hand through his thick, almost white-blond hair. “Full disclosure, I had a thing for him in high school, and it’s…lingering.”
“Why wouldn’t you? He’s amazing.”
“Plus, he looks like that,” he quipped, grinning at me. “But for starters, he’s not about to forgive and forget, which I totally understand and deserve. Then I saw that kiss you laid on him, so I get who he’s riding off into the sunset with. I can take a hint.”