by Lynn Stark
Carla’s laughter brought Hank out of his thoughts. He was relieved until Carla began teasing him. “Boy, you’ve got it bad. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you haven’t heard a word.”
“I don’t have anything bad,” Hank denied, feeling the blood rush into his face. What was up with that? Everything was making him blush these days. “I was just thinking about a guy from my past and what I want to avoid in the future.”
“I hear ya,” Carla said. “I am definitely not hooking up with anyone even remotely like my past mistakes. I’m in therapy for that, too, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I have my own list.”
Hank had hated therapy in the beginning. Shame over his past had made him want to hide away and keep everything locked inside. But he now actually looked forward to going and spilling his guts once a week. It was cathartic, and it was going a long way in helping him fix himself. Then there were the substance abuse meetings. It was all part of a process that would go on for several more months. He would be evaluated from time to time. In order for him to continue in the program, he had to follow the agreed upon requirements, as well as submit to periodic, random drug tests. He was cool with that.
There had been a few close calls in the beginning, both while Hank was still in Buffalo and in the beginning stages of the program, as well as after he had arrived in Silver. He had gotten as far as buying heroin, but Noah had interrupted the sale, scaring off the dealer. Even after he had gotten to his apartment with the drugs, it had been a close thing. Hank had tossed the stuff on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch, staring at them, craving them as he had never done before. It had been the hardest fight up until that time. He had been without the drugs in his system for several weeks. All he wanted to do was end the craving.
A police officer knocking on his apartment’s door to check on him had been what saved Hank. He would never be able to say he had had the inner strength to resist temptation. The officer had taken possession of the heroin, and Hank had requested a trip to the hospital when the man hadn’t slapped cuffs on him.
It had been a pivotal moment. His life had truly changed direction that night, thanks to people who cared. He had the support he needed. He was no longer ashamed of that fact or afraid to tackle problems.
“Let me know if you need me to pick you up,” Carla said as she stopped at the rear of the store.
“Sure thing. Thanks for the ride.”
Hank went to the rear door and pressed his thumb on the pad. It not only let him in, but would also record his time in. It saved a step. He greeted the people he saw as he headed for the private elevator and punched in the code Fallon had given him. The doors slid open. He walked in and turned around, noting the shocked expressions on the faces of his coworkers. It made him a little uncomfortable. Being singled out by Fallon might not be a good thing. As far as Hank was concerned, he was just helping someone. Fallon had asked him if he could do some things for him for a few days. No big deal. Although he didn’t expect it to, he hoped it didn’t turn awkward. Working at the store was important to him. Hank loved working with the public. There was always someone interesting coming in. Helping was second nature to him.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Hank’s first impression of Fallon’s apartment was that it was very bright. There was a wall in front of him covered with tongue-in-groove wood and painted white. Hanging on the wall were several paintings of flowers. They were bright, cheerful varieties of flowers. Below the paintings was a long, narrow table that looked like an antique. It was a warm, mellow color and had a few imperfections. There was a round, opaque, green vase overflowing with daisies. Fallon hadn’t lied about liking flowers. He wondered what other surprises there were about the man.
Poking his head out, Hank looked to the right and then to the left. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on both ends, allowing the light to come into the space that was reflected off the walls. Taking a breath, he stepped out of the elevator and went to the right. How lost could he get?
He couldn’t, of course. Hank walked along the hallway, passing more tall windows set in the whitewashed brick wall, and took a left toward the front of the building. After about forty feet the room opened up. Sucking in his breath, Hank stopped and stared. The remainder of the building’s floor was one huge room with barrel-vaulted ceilings over the living room, dining room, and the kitchen area.
Once Hank saw the man reclining on one of two long, moss-green sofas, he had no interest in anything else. Dressed casually in a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, Fallon appeared rested and free of pain. Hank was grateful that the bandages weren’t exposed this time. He hated to think about Fallon being hurt. The bear could have killed him and that would have been a tragedy.
The grin spreading across Fallon’s face was enough to steal Hank’s breath away. He sucked it in and stared. He had stopped at the edge of the dining area with its long, distressed wood table and ladder-back chairs. There was a chandelier hanging above it. It was an orb made from flat, wrought iron with an old-fashion looking lightbulb in the center. It was pretty cool, but he would look at it more closely later. Right now all he wanted to do was stare at Fallon. Hopefully the man didn’t see any drool dripping off his chin.
“Hi, Hank. You arrived right on time. My dad just left a few minutes ago.” Fallon waved a hand around. “Make yourself at home. Look around. Get familiar with everything. There’s nothing off limits here.”
“This place,” Hank said, waving his own hand around. “Is fabulous. It looks like it should be in a magazine.”
Fallon chuckled. “Thanks, but don’t let any of it scare you. My home is made to be lived in.”
Hank frowned as he walked into the living room area. “If you say so.” Looking around, he asked, “What do you want me to do first?”
“Well, there’s about five days’ worth of cleaning to be done. I like to keep ahead of the dust. I don’t let it build up. You might say I’m a little anal about it.”
A laugh escaped Hank. He smiled. “Hey, I don’t blame you. I don’t much care for it myself. If you tell me where the sweeper and cleaning supplies are, I’ll get to it. Unless you’d like something to eat first?”
Fallon shook his head. “No, I’m good for now. If you can come over to steady me, I’ll head into my bedroom and get out of your way. You can clean in there last.”
“Sure thing.”
Moving quickly across the room, Hank was there as Fallon picked up his crutches and got awkwardly to his feet. Hank steadied him, vividly aware of the heat of the man’s body through the cotton of his shirt. Dropping his hand as soon as he was able, Hank hovered as Fallon maneuvered through the room, around furniture, and along the wall on the opposite side of the building Hank had walked along as he came into the apartment. It didn’t take a genius to see that he could access the rear of the apartment from this side, too. The hallway was a large “U.” This side, however, had doors.
“There are two guest rooms, two baths, the master bedroom with its own bathroom, my office, and a den back here. My bedroom is the last door. You’ll figure out the rest on your own.”
The last door was open, and Hank followed Fallon inside. The master bedroom was huge and fabulous, and there were skylights. “Wow!” Hank breathed, impressed. The man certainly enjoyed white throughout his home, but this room had one wall that was a medium shade of aquamarine. He stared at the bed until Fallon leaned to pull off the decorative pillows. Pulling his wits together, he hurried forward. “Let me do that.”
Fallon waited as Hank took the pillows off the bed and folded back the covers. Hank rubbed the silky, aquamarine sheet between his fingers. He had never slept on silk sheets before and wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in them. Better yet, what it would feel like to be made love to on them. He peered at Fallon through his lashes and felt his skin heat up when their gazes locked. Hank looked away as he helped Fallon sit down on the edge of the bed.
Th
ere was no way the man would ever be attracted to him. Even if he was, nothing could happen. Fallon was his boss. Hank worked for him. Their positions made it impossible. While the two of them might know that it wasn’t a power thing, others might not see it that way. Having sex with Fallon would also make Hank wonder if any promotion he received was due to a sexual relationship between them. He wanted to work his way up to one of the floor managers. He didn’t want to get there because he was a good fuck.
“Damn. I forgot my pain meds. They’re in the bathroom. Could you get them for me? And a glass of water?” Fallon asked, sounding very tired. He looked tired, a bit pale, and his eyes were dark with pain.
Hank felt bad for Fallon. He helped the man lay back on the bed, gently lifting his leg onto the mattress. Reaching for the blankets, he pulled them over Fallon, hiding temptation. He could have stood there and stared all day.
Hank nodded. “Sure. No problem.”
With the door to the bathroom open, Hank didn’t have to open any others to find it. It was big, luxurious, and made Hank want to rip off his clothes so he could take a shower in the stall large enough for six people. It also had several water jets. There wouldn’t be one place on him that wasn’t sparkly clean when he was done, he thought with a grin.
Hank’s grin disappeared when he found Fallon’s pain medication and saw what it was. He had taken the same thing when he had been injured in a car accident, leaving him in a lot of pain for months. It was an opioid, and he had quickly become hooked on them. When he had no longer been given prescriptions for them, he had looked for something else to satisfy the cravings. That choice had been heroin.
Filling the glass sitting there on the counter with cold water, Hank carried it and the medication into the bedroom. The hand holding the pill bottle was shaking by the time he reached the bed. He quickly placed the bottle and the glass of water on the bedside table as Fallon opened his eyes.
“I’ll help you sit up,” he said quickly and did so, just wanting to leave the room before he said something about the medication. It was none of his business. Fallon hadn’t been on it for long and would likely stop using it once the pain was gone. Not everyone got hooked.
“What’s wrong?” Fallon asked as he opened the pill bottle and tipped out the dosage. “You’re shaking.”
Despite the query, Hank would not tell Fallon about the trigger. All he wanted to do was get the man settled in bed so he could go clean the spotless apartment. He forced a laugh. “Just nervous, I guess. It’ll pass.” He withstood Fallon’s probing gaze and waited patiently as Fallon finally put a pill in his mouth and washed it down with water.
Hank couldn’t get out of the room fast enough after that. As he headed for the door, he saw Fallon pick up a remote control from the table. He pushed a button and Hank looked up as the skylights were covered, blocking out most of the light. Another button turned on a stereo Hank couldn’t see. He guessed the music would help mask the noise of the sweeper and Hank moving around the apartment.
“Have a good rest,” Hank told Fallon before quickly backing out of the room and softly closing the solid wood door.
It didn’t take long to find the room where the sweeper and other cleaning supplies were kept. He was pleased to see that they were basic and had a very low environmental impact. But he would sweep first and then dust.
Cleaning the beautiful apartment had a lot of distractions. Hank stopped often to look at the many photographs hanging on the walls, wood carvings, and collections of rocks. Fallon certainly had a lot of interesting things, Hank thought as he caught himself staring at a large, sparkly geode in a display case. Shaking his head at his lack of focus, he finished the dusting and headed to the kitchen.
He was in the process of wiping down the silver and black granite counter when Fallon appeared. He pulled out one of the stools at the island and leaned the crutches against it. Hank hurried around to be sure the stool didn’t slide away on the hardwood floor.
“You look better,” Hank commented as he hurried back around to the opposite side of the island. There was a prep sink in it and plenty of space for either preparing food or serving it. “I was just about to look to see what there was for me to make for lunch.”
Fallon smiled at him, setting his pulse racing. “There should be plenty to choose from. My dad and grandfather went grocery shopping.”
“How hungry are you?”
“I could eat a bear,” Fallon joked, causing Hank to laugh as he opened the concealed refrigerator to take a look through the contents. “My dad said he got some fresh salmon. Why don’t we have that? The stove has a grill.”
The stove was a huge thing that would delight any chef. Hank was no chef, and he had never prepared salmon, but he did have basic skills, and he wasn’t afraid to try something new. “I can do this,” he told himself confidently. There was a chuckle behind him. He turned from staring at the package of fillets he held to Fallon. The man was obviously amused. “I’ve never cooked salmon,” he confessed. “The closest I’ve come is watching my mom do it. What would you like with it?”
“Vegetables. Lots of vegetables. I believe my dad got the brand you only have to toss in the microwave and they steam cook.”
Hank nodded and smiled. “One less thing to worry about.”
Less than a half hour later, Hank was seated beside Fallon at the island and eating the wonderful, tender fish. Sharing a meal with Fallon didn’t seem quite right. It seemed too personal, but he wasn’t going to argue with the man about it. They didn’t talk while they ate. Hank was relieved about that. He didn’t want the conversation heading toward anything he didn’t want to share. Fallon seemed to be a great guy, but Hank was keeping the boundaries in place. Not doing so could prove disastrous. So far, he had a good thing going for him here in Silver. He was making progress and didn’t want to do anything that might derail it.
Once Hank had finished cleaning the bedroom and master bath, he went to tell Fallon that he was finished. He would hang out in town, maybe catch a movie, and then return to make supper. Fallon was seated on the balcony, his leg propped up and a glass of iced tea close by.
“Is there anything I can get for you before I leave?”
Fallon smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thanks for cleaning. The place looks great. And the salmon was cooked perfectly. You shouldn’t have worried. You have a talent for cooking. If you ever want to change careers, I can speak with Gerald over at the Silver Star Hotel. He’s the head chef.”
Tipping his head to the side, Hank studied Fallon for a moment. Was the guy trying to get rid of him? He frowned and nodded. He wouldn’t think about the possibility right now. “Thanks. I don’t know about making cooking a career. Sometimes I watch those cooking shows on TV and wonder why people spaz out so much over food preparation. I guess it’s okay for them.” He laughed. “Maybe that’s a sign that it’s not the right career for me.”
“It seems you might be right,” Fallon agreed, grinning. “Well, the offer will always be there, if you need it.”
“Thanks, Fallon. Well, I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Call if you need anything before then.”
When it was all said and done, Hank didn’t feel right about leaving Fallon alone for long. As soon as the movie ended, Hank headed back to Fallon’s apartment. When Fallon told Hank he wasn’t hungry yet, Hank was at a loss as to what to do next. Because it was his day off, he wasn’t needed in the store. Still, he went down after Fallon reassured him he would be taking another nap.
No one questioned what Hank was doing. It was a relief. He didn’t want to be given any grief over why he was helping Fallon out. Being accused of brown-nosing, or something worse, would not have made for a pleasant atmosphere. Maybe it was because everyone who worked at the store liked and respected their boss. Whatever it was, Hank was grateful.
Fallon was in the kitchen and taking a pan out of the cupboard when Hank came up for the last time. He would call for a ride home soon. Fallon turned and ga
ve Hank a lopsided grin.
“I guess I’m busted.”
Hank laughed and nodded. “I guess you are. Why don’t you go relax while I make your supper?”
“I’ve done nothing but rest all day. You’re not staying?”
The desire to stay was there, but Hank knew that allowing himself to become too accustomed to spending time with Fallon now would only lead to disappointment, and possibly something greater, when his help was no longer needed.
The expression in Fallon’s eyes, however, made Hank capitulate one more time. Geez, was he weak, or what? Hank asked himself as he took the pan from Fallon and shooed the other man out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Two hours later, Hank was waiting on the curb for Noah to come into Silver to pick him up. It was about time he looked for his own car. Although he knew no one minded coming in for him, a car of his own was yet another step in his improving life.
As Hank rode home with Noah, they chatted about nothing in particular. Hank knew he likely owed his life to the other man. If Noah hadn’t taken it upon himself to intervene in Hank’s life by helping prevent him from making a life-altering mistake, Hank might very well have been dead by now instead of entertaining thoughts of a handsome man named Fallon.
Chapter Four
With his leg all but healed, Fallon knew he was now out of reasons for Hank to come over every day to help him around the apartment. He had even added a couple of days to his homebound rehabilitation in order to keep Hank around. Fallon was certain the man suspected what was happening, but said nothing. Hank was a smiling, cheerful companion. Well, most of the time he was, Fallon thought, and he had guessed the reason. It was the drug Fallon was taking for the pain. He had four pills left, and there were no refills for it. Because the pain was manageable now with over the counter painkillers, Fallon hadn’t been taking the prescription. He would be returning them to the pharmacy for disposal. He wouldn’t even keep them in the house. Not just because he no longer needed them, but because he didn’t want them there. Although his medications were kept where his nephews couldn’t access them, he would feel as if he was lying to Hank if he still had them around. He didn’t know why. Hank would probably not ask. Still, he would get rid of them.