Page 28 of Sweet T

“Good boy.”

Over the pounding of blood in his veins, ears, and head, Evan heard the closing of the SUV’s door. He heard the engine start, the gears shift, and its tires crunching on gravel as it drove away.

Evan’s eyes were open, but blurry from tears. He closed them and when he opened them this time he was in the bathtub in Tucker’s home, staring down at his battered body. A moan escaped him, an involuntary utterance he silenced quickly, gathering his legs to his chest and clenching tight.

Six

Tucker was spreading mayonnaise on bread with a butter knife when he heard the moan. He dropped both items on the plate, rushed to the bathroom door, and opened it. Evan looked up from the tub, eyes red with tears.

Tucker went to him, kneeling, arms extended. “Easy now,” he said, holding him as best he could in the awkward position. He didn’t care that Evan was wet, naked, or that they didn’t know each other. All he knew was that the man was in pain and he wanted to take that pain away from him.

Evan accepted the tenderness, yearned for it. The solace Tucker gave was selfless and comforting and triggered more tears.

“Don’t you worry,” Tucker said, his words soothing. “You let it all out. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Evan held him harder, burying his face in Tucker’s neck, attempting to muffle himself.

His strength surprised Tucker, and for a second he thought he might topple over into the water with him. To counterbalance, he held Evan tighter, pulled him closer, squeezing harder. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position, but he was determined to remain that way for as long as needed.

When Evan’s grip loosened, Tucker mirrored the action, easing back and sitting on his bent legs. His right arm and hand trailed last. Before it was gone, Evan grabbed it with both hands, maintaining a tether.

“Thank you,” Evan said. “I’m not sure where that came from.”

“I am. You’ve been traumatized. I think you’ve been burying it, shock or something. I want to help you, Ev. I think we should call the cops.”

Evan shook his head, releasing Tucker’s hand. “No. Please. I just want to move past it.”

“But what if they caught him? You’d have closure. Maybe even get your money back.”

“I don’t care about the money. I just want it all behind me. It was a stupid mistake I instigated. I just want to forget it, and move on.”

Tucker wanted to argue, but empathy won out. “OK,” he said. “I’ll drop it for now. Just relax. Let’s get you better.”

Evan looked at him, eyes still pleading. “If I have to, I’ll get a job here. I’ll save up again, pay you back. I promise, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Stop it. Money’s not what this is about. You don’t have to pay me back. I just want to help you.”

Tucker thought about it. There was a bill, though, a big one, for someone he just met now sitting in his bathtub. He didn’t dwell on it. If he had to, he’d pay it back himself. Right now, he was more concerned about Evan’s well-being.

Initially, Tucker was drawn to the small man. He told himself he’d do the same for anyone else, anyone hurt and in need, which was true. Pedro had always said he was a generous soul. But now there was something more. His attraction to Evan was growing, which was both motivating and making him feel guilty.

Evan leaned back, raising his hands to his eyes, palming the sockets with a sigh. “I’m not sure this will ever go away.”

“It will. It’ll take some time and you’ll have to heal more than just physically.”

With Evan’s sight of him obscured, Tucker’s eyes went to the bath water. He didn’t want to look, but something deeper within him insisted. Some dominant, primal gene he had no control over was reminding him that there was a good-looking, naked, tattooed man right there in front of him. He felt like he was in one of those old cartoons where the devil was on one shoulder, prompting him to look, and an angel on the other, shaming him.

Thankfully, Mr. Bubble intervened, keeping Tucker’s inner Neanderthal at bay by providing an opaque layer between his eyes and Evan’s submerged body.

Evan lowered his hands with a lighter sigh, allowing his head to relax farther back against the tiled surface of the wall, oblivious to Tucker’s inner conflict.

Tucker reached across to the opposite ledge for a bar of soap. He dipped it in the water and brought it to Evan’s chest, rubbing with a circular motion. He traced it across the cuts and bruises, lathering the hair on Evan’s chest.

“That’s nice,” Evan whispered. His head was still reclined, eyes closed. “Feels good.”

Tucker put the soap down and reached for a sponge. He lifted one of Evan’s arms and sponged beneath it, now using additional water and the lathered suds from his chest to clean. He lowered the arm and then did the same with the other.

Evan kept his eyes closed as Tucker bathed him. Tucker wondered if, by keeping his eyes shut, Evan was giving him permission to study his naked form more, or simply granting him access to further soothe. He convinced himself of the latter, but his inner Cro-Magnon took advantage again, observing the beautiful man’s features as he cleaned.