Page 21 of Sweet T

He’s twenty-one, only four years younger than me.

His thoughts returned to Evan high on the trapeze, doing his flips and catching the return swing. He would land perfectly on the high poled-platform, bowing in his sleeveless unitard, then raising hands above his head, flexing his tattooed biceps in triumph.

“You’re staring at me,” Evan said.

Tucker shook his head a bit, flushing pink as the reverie dissipated. Evan was looking at him curiously, sitting there in his hospital gown, eyebrows raised above those piercing blue eyes, ears jutting from his brown curls. Even with a puffy eye and a split lip, he was adorable.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“You looked pretty intense.”

“I don’t like bullies. Knowing that someone not only beat you up, but took advantage of you before doing so makes me want to—”

He stopped speaking, fists clenched.

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

Tucker smiled. He didn’t think the angelic face before him could ever anger him. Seemed impossible, anyway.

But you’re the angel here, in this case, right? Guardian angel, Tucker thought. It’s your job to take care of him. Other than a friend in Atlanta, sounds like he’s all alone, running down a dream.

Unlike his father, Tucker was not a man of unlimited resources. He owned a business. That was all. His Daddy P had helped him with the startup funding because Titus had been so wound up in the World of Javy. He should probably consult Pedro. Pedro would know what to do.

“You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“Sorry,” said Tucker. “I’m just processing.”

“Look. I don’t want to be a burden. I’ll do whatever I can to make up for all this. Just let me know what.”

Tucker wondered if Evan had said something similar to the man who beat him.

“No. Sorry I blanked out on you. When I get overwhelmed, it helps if I list things and organize. First on that list is getting you better. That’s already in progress. We also have to make at least a small payment to the hospital. My Daddy P will help us with that. Then...”

Keep him here. Don’t let him get away.

Tucker was ashamed of what he was thinking, using the circumstances to delay the man’s inevitable departure.

“When do you need to be in Atlanta?”

Evan shrugged. “Nothing’s pressing. It’s not like I have a job or an acting gig yet. My primary concern was getting out, getting away from my parents and toward something more.”

More?

Tucker nodded.

Evan continued, “I need to let Tyke know I’m alright though, that I’m not dead on the side of the road.”

“Do you know his number?”

“No, it’s in my phone. But I can access it with yours.”

Tucker removed his phone from his pocket and handed it to him. “Here. Do what you need to do.”

Evan punched some stuff in on Tucker’s phone, accessing a cloud-based contacts list, Tucker presumed.

“Here it is. I’ll just text him if that’s OK.”

“You can call him if you like. I have unlimited minutes.”