“Yeah, okay. We’ll head back,” he said. That hammered the nail into the coffin of his botched attempt at a kiss. There were so many -people currently living in the half of the building that hadn’t been damaged that it was nearly impossible to have any privacy. Given how his father had disapproved of his homosexuality, Charlie had to assume the other former military guys might feel the same way. Nick seemed cool with Jeremy’s bisexuality, but then again, Jer was blood. And Charlie certainly didn’t want to do anything to endanger the only safe place to crash that he—-and his sister—-had.
So despite how much Jeremy’s near fall had made Charlie want to act before it was too late, maybe it was better they’d been interrupted after all.
He hung up, then crouched down to retie the shoestrings on his sneaker. The damn things wouldn’t stay tight because his injury made anything that required two--handed dexterity nearly impossible.
“That was Nick,” Jeremy said, walking closer.
Charlie remained focused on his shoestrings, like he had a chance in hell of getting them tied by himself. But it was better than facing Jeremy. “Yeah. It was Becca. For me, I mean. She said we should head back.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, crouching down right in front of Charlie.
Charlie stared at his beat--up blue--and--white Chucks like they were a long string of code that required his utter concentration.
“Charlie,” Jeremy said, the request to look at him clear in his tone. But Charlie couldn’t. He didn’t want to see rejection in the other man’s eyes, or have him make a joke about what almost happened. Between being kidnapped, tortured by a gang for information, and learning that his father wasn’t what he thought he was, little felt real in Charlie’s life right now. Not to mention the fact that the team had asked him to remain “missing,” as far as the authorities and their enemies were concerned. They thought he’d be safer that way.
But the longing Charlie felt for Jeremy? That was real. It felt like the only thing that was real. And right now he wasn’t strong enough to face the fact that it was almost certainly all one--sided.
Jeremy sighed and gently brushed his fingers away from the sneaker. “Let me help.”
Humiliation heated Charlie’s whole body. “It’s just that these bandages—-”
“Dude, I know. No worries at all.” Jeremy made quick work of the laces. “Please look at me,” he finally said.
Everything inside Charlie fought the request until it made him nauseous. Why couldn’t he have been normal like Becca, or Scott, the brother they’d lost years before? Both of them had always been popular and outgoing and confident. They’d had tons of friends and dated and took charge of the world. Whereas everything had made Charlie anxious and jumpy, especially after their mom died when he was only twelve.
“Charlie—-”
Meow.
Slowly, they both gazed toward the sound to find a big orange cat staring at them. A big orange cat with only one functioning eye. The eyelid appeared sunken and sealed shut where the other should’ve been.
Jeremy turned a big grin on Charlie. Despite his discomfort, that smile made Charlie’s skin heat for a whole other reason. Between Jeremy’s chiseled features, messy chocolate hair, full lips, pale green eyes, and multiple piercings, the guy made Charlie feel equal parts hot and unsettled—-especially when he smiled, which he did all the time. At least until the attack yesterday.
“Dude,” Jeremy whispered. “There’s a one--eyed cat staring at us.”
The corners of Charlie’s mouth quirked up at the obviousness of the statement. “I noticed. Do you think he was in the building when it collapsed?” Dust and little bits of debris covered his fur.
Jeremy nodded. “Maybe. I’ve seen him around from time to time. But he’s never come this close before. I didn’t even know he only had one eye. Poor guy.” Slowly, he extended a hand. “C’mere, kitty dude.”
The cat tensed and his ears flattened. Jeremy stretched a little closer, and the cat bolted across the second floor.
“Damn,” Jeremy said.
Charlie rose to his feet. “Probably spooked by the explosion.”
Jeremy stood, nodding. “Yeah, he wouldn’t be the only one. So, about that, thanks. Okay?” Those pale green eyes blazed sincerity.
Charlie frowned and wondered if Jeremy was seeming totally normal because he actually felt normal, or if he was pretending to act normal to ignore the hundred--pound almost--kiss in the room. “Uh, sure,” Charlie finally said. Because he had no clue.
“Guess we better get back,” Jeremy said. “Going down might be slipperier than climbing up, so let’s take it slow.”
Charlie nodded, and they started down the rubble pile. About halfway to street level, the bricks slid out from under his feet, and Charlie almost went down. But Jeremy grabbed his good hand just in time and helped him the rest of the way.
Charlie tried to ignore how damn nice it felt to have someone hold his hand.
It was an unusual reaction for him. After his mother died, he withdrew in lots of ways, including from being touched. His father had never been touchy--feely, but their mother had smothered him with hugs and kisses. And then she’d left him.
Becca had tried to be something of a mother to him. She really had. But their mother’s death made him feel like if she’d leave him, he couldn’t trust anyone else not to do it, too. Computers were much more trustworthy that way.