Chapter Sixteen

Vargas installed a safe room for him. Talk about intense.

Seth couldn’t wrap his head around what that implied about Vargas’s motives—or his feelings for him—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to give either of those questions thought right then.

“You don’t like it?” Vargas was studying him with concern.

“No, that’s not—” Seth stopped and tried again. “It must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It wasn’t bad.” Vargas gestured into the opening. “Take a look if you want.”

Seth approached the doorway and peeked inside. From what Vargas had said, the entire interior space was made of steel, but the floor of the narrow room was carpeted and the walls had been covered in drywall and painted like any normal room. Two of the walls featured upholstered bench-style seats that connected in one corner to form an L-shaped seating area. Each bench was lined with plush cushions, blankets, and colorful throw pillows. Seth pictured himself curled up there with a book for a couple of hours.

On the interior wall closest to the bedroom stood a bookcase filled with books. He moved into the safe room and got a better view of the titles on the shelves.

Vargas waited in the doorway and gestured to a second computer panel that hung on the inside wall near the open door. “I can show you how these work. I’ll input your thumbprint and give you the access code. Only the two of us and Carter will ever be able to open this door.” Then he motioned to a storage cabinet positioned along the wall beside the bookcase. “In there are the emergency supplies.” He hesitated as if he didn’t know what else to say. His next words poured out in a rush. “You can come in here anytime. Leave the door open or shut. Use it for any reason. Even if you just want some time to yourself to read or whatever.” He indicated the bookcase. “I got ones by authors I know you like.”

“It’s…” Seth took another look around the room. “This is…”

“What?” There was a nervous hitch in that one word.

Seth turned back to him. “It’s perfect.”

“The books or—”

“All of it. Thank you.”

The tense expression on Vargas’s face eased. “You’re welcome.” He held Seth’s gaze for another few seconds, then went to stand at the foot of the bed, his back to the safe room door. “If there’s anything else you need, you let me know.”

“I will.” Seth stepped into the bedroom. “Can I see the rest of the place?”

“Sure.” Vargas led him down the hall, pointing out a second smaller guest room and then the master bedroom. Vargas’s room was similar to the others but was far less plush and colorful. Tidy. Stark. No extra pillows on the bed, no plants, no trinkets on the dresser or the nightstands. A simple room with a hardwood floor, a black and white bedspread, and a similarly colorless abstract print hanging over the bed.

On one of the nightstands was another pair of reading glasses. They sat perched on a paperback copy of Under the Dome by Stephen King. Seth hadn’t read that one, but he knew it had to do with an entire town being trapped inside an inescapable, invisible dome. The paperback was tattered like it had been read many times over.

“I’m not in here much,” Vargas said softly from behind him as if offering an explanation for something.

Seth pictured sitting on the bed beside Vargas, both of them leaning back against the headboard like they’d done the other night at his place. Then he imagined them doing far more than they had that night, everything he’d been dreaming about. The kissing, the touching, the intimate whispered words, the groans and pleading whimpers pouring out of him that he hadn’t let anyone hear in such a long time. Their clothes off, Vargas’s hands and lips and tongue all over him, fingers stroking up the inside of his thighs, brushing over the flesh of his ass, dipping in between his ass cheeks. His breath caught on that last vision as if he’d actually felt the touch.

Vargas approached behind him. “You okay?”

Seth cleared his throat. “Sure.”

Vargas didn’t press, but he gave Seth a minute, then continued the tour. The last room was his private office.

A wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, covered in a mass of papers and file folders, and beside it was a rolling cart stacked with several boxes containing additional files. A couch was pushed up against one wall. It held a blanket and pillow, both haphazardly tossed in the corner. Did he crash here some nights?

The wall perpendicular to the desk featured a window with curtains on each side that were pulled back. Seth moved in closer and found himself looking out over the first floor of the empty club. From this angle the space appeared smaller, unintimidating, like an architectural model of the building’s interior. He was uncomfortable with that assessment and wasn’t sure why.

He turned back to the rest of the office. The wall opposite the desk was covered floor to ceiling in a series of wall-mounted shelves, each shelf lined with numerous model cars, boats, and planes. Everything from steam-powered vessels to modern sports cars. There were commercial airplanes, sailboats, clipper ships, destroyers, U-boats, helicopters, tanks, and luxury cars. At least a dozen models were on display on each shelf.

“Did you make all these?”

“Yep.” Vargas went to stand before the shelves. He repositioned a replica of a Ford Model T, moving it a fraction of an inch to the right. His fingers lingered on the front fender of the car as if in reverence. “My mom and I started working on them together when I was a kid.”

Seth felt like he was getting insight into Vargas’s personal life in a way he never had before. This office was Vargas’s private refuge, where he told Seth he now worked most days—and maybe where he slept. Where he spent time thinking, planning, and regretting.

Seth spotted an unassembled racing yacht in its sealed box on the bottom shelf near the corner of the room. Was that his next project? How long had it been sitting there waiting for him?

“It’s so neat that you made all these.”

“My dad was really into working on model boats before he died. I think that’s why Mom started the first one with me. As sort of a tribute to him. We had a good time with it, so we kept building them. I still do. I work on maybe half a dozen a year.” He pointed to a car at the far end of the shelf near the window. It was a red and white 1967 Mustang Shelby GT500. “That’s the last one I did.”

Something about the way he said the word last bothered Seth. “When did you finish it?”

“I don’t know. Two years ago, I guess.”

Just as Seth had feared. He was about to press for more when Vargas spoke again.

“It’s remote controlled.”

“It actually works?”

“Yeah, it’s the only one that’s like that. It’s electric, runs off batteries. The motor came with the kit.” Vargas lifted the car, turned on a switch at the bottom, and set the vehicle on the floor. He retrieved a handheld controller from the shelf and turned that on too. Then he pulled the trigger on the remote, and the car lurched forward.

“That’s so cool.”

“You wanna try it?”

“You sure?”

He handed over the controller. “Go for it.”

Seth drew back the trigger the way he’d seen Vargas do it, and the car took off. Using the steering wheel on the remote, he got a feel for the maneuverability before taking it any faster. Then he raced the car around the room, spinning it in circles. He nearly crashed it half a dozen times, laughing with each near miss.

“I suck at this, but man, it’s awesome.” He had no idea driving something that small, that fast could be such a rush.

“You never had anything like this as a kid?”

Seth shook his head as he jerked the controller’s wheel left, then right. “The train set I had barely moved compared to this.” He sped the Mustang up, circling it around one wooden leg of the desk, then the next. On the last turn, the car hit the desk and tipped onto two wheels for a second, then slammed back onto all four. “Sorry.” He eased up.

“It’s fine.” Vargas flipped a hand through the air. “Go to town.”

Seth laughed more as he hit the accelerator again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vargas lean back against the edge of the desk, arms folded, a grin on his lips, his complete focus on Seth, not the remote-controlled car.

Seth slowed the vehicle, worrying his bottom lip as he watched the car return to him. How childish and stupid did he look right then? And here he’d been trying to figure out how to make himself seem sexier.

Once the car came to a complete stop, he switched it off and returned the controller and the car to the shelf. He kept his back to Vargas for a few seconds more before he turned around.

Maybe it didn’t matter how big of a dork he was. What with the way Vargas was taking in the sight of him. The grin was gone, replaced by a penetrating look that could only be described as pure longing.

Seth stared him down in return, mentally scrambling for what to do next, how to make a move, how to get them back to where they’d been headed the morning before when Dylan had interrupted them.

But something inside Seth wouldn’t let him speak. Not about that.

He didn’t want to examine why. He gestured to the window and moved in closer. “It’s so neat that you can see into the club from here.” The first floor was still brightly lit with no one around. “So, do you sit up here and check out which guys are hooking up?”

Vargas snorted out a brief laugh. “Sometimes.” He was still leaning with his ass against the desk. Then he got up and moved in behind him. “Let me close those curtains.”

“No, it’s okay.” Seth studied the empty dining room and the bar. All at once he was back to the first night he’d ever come to the club. He’d felt so free and alive. God, he wished he could walk down there the next time the place was open, and be that man again. “I used to like it when I came here and people would stare at me. I liked the attention. When I was growing up, I was always the freak kid in school. All that time, and then later when I was living on the streets, I just tried to blend in, tried not to stand out. Then when I got my membership here, it felt so liberating, like I could finally be myself. I could finally…” He wasn’t sure what word he was looking for.

“Shine.”

He turned to look up at Vargas. “I hate that I can’t stop being afraid of someone noticing me now. I never thought I’d feel that way again. Never thought I’d be so scared—” He shook his head. He hated those words, hated that he still felt that way after all this time, hated that he’d admitted it aloud. He searched the room for anything else he could focus on.

He settled on a baseball bat that hung prominently behind the desk. “Did you used to play?”

Vargas glanced over his shoulder at the bat. “In college.”

“Really?”

“Find that hard to believe?”

“No. When I first met you, I wondered if you played sports.”

“What else did you wonder about me?”

“Nothing I’m going to tell you.”

“Oh, really?” The grin was back. “I’m sure I could get you to spill.”

Yeah, he could. Vargas had no idea the power he had over him. An odd nervousness Seth never had around Vargas overcame him. He crossed the room and explored more of the collection of ships and vehicles.

Vargas moved in alongside him. “This one is my favorite.” He indicated a long cargo-hauling ship. “It’s a lake freighter. The SS Edmund Fitzgerald. She’s a plain ship—or boat as these freighters are called—but she has an interesting story. You ever heard it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“She sank during a storm on Lake Superior in 1975. The entire crew was lost. They found her submerged below 530 feet of water, only seventeen miles from safe harbor. The hull was broke completely in half. They never recovered a single body.”

“That’s awful.”

“Everyone always talks about the horrendous stories of men trapped on the USS Arizona. Or the Titanic, such a grand ship going down on her maiden voyage and the massive loss of life, but we know why those sank. With the Fitzgerald, there are all these theories on why she went down, but no one knows for sure what happened. There were no witnesses.”

“Maybe there’s no reason, no explanation.”

“There usually is one. Something or someone to blame.”

“But the why doesn’t always matter, does it? The horrible thing already happened.”

“Maybe. Or maybe if we knew why, we could keep it from ever happening again.” Vargas kept his focus on the replica of the massive boat, and the silence stretched on between them.

There was so much Seth wanted to say. He longed to make things better for Vargas but had no idea what would work, what would get him to stop blaming himself.

Vargas suddenly rotated to face him as if he desperately needed to get a look at Seth, like that was all that would keep the dark thoughts at bay. Or maybe would keep them from fading away. Then he moved, crossing the room in a quick stride.

Seth let it go. For now.

Vargas had stopped near the cart overflowing with cardboard file boxes.

Seth approached. “What’s all this?”

“The club’s financial records. I’ve gone back through a couple of months, but so far everything’s checked out. I just can’t figure it out, can’t understand what he’s not telling me.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re not. Now that I’m here, I can take a look.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to. Let me do something for you for a change.”

Vargas seemed to be considering that. “All right.” He pointed a finger at Seth. “But you get your own work done first before you start on any of this.”

“Deal.” Seth moved around the desk, propped his cane against it, and took a seat in the office chair. “Is this everything? Are there electronic files on your computer I can access? An accounting program?”

“Yeah. Here’s the log-in info.” Vargas grabbed a pen and jotted down the information on a notepad.

Seth opened the top file folder on the closest stack.

“You don’t have to do this now.”

“Why not? I have my work done for today.” He grinned up at him and then reached for a receipt in the folder.

Vargas laid a hand on Seth’s. “Not on your first night, all right? Why don’t we have some dinner?”

“Sure.” He returned the folder and got up.

Vargas didn’t move from where he blocked Seth’s path around the desk. He gave him a long look. “Seth, I know it’s hard for you to imagine right now, but you’re going to feel less afraid. You’re going to feel safe again. And…” He caught Seth’s chin in his hand and tipped his head back so they were eye to eye. “You still shine. You may not feel it. You may think you’re hiding it beneath those baggy clothes and the wheelchair, but it’s still there.” He ran the pad of his thumb over Seth’s cheek. “I see it in your eyes every time I look at you.”

Seth drew in a sharp breath. He wanted to grab hold of Vargas and lay the best damn kiss on him he could manage.

Before he could make a move, or even decide for sure that he should try, Vargas dropped his hand and rounded the desk. With his back to Seth, he stood stiff and straight, like he battled some inner war. He threaded an unsteady hand through his hair. “I’m going to have security bring up your bags so you can get settled in while I fix us something to eat.” He snatched the phone off his desk and made a call to the security room. After he hung up, he offered Seth a tentative smile. “How about one of your favorites for dinner? Tacos?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll talk more while we eat, all right?” The way Vargas said the words, it was like there was something particular on his mind. Or maybe something he hoped Seth would bring up.

Then with haste, Vargas rushed out into the hall.

Seth gaped after him, trying to figure out why Vargas was working so hard to avoid a repeat of their kiss. Was he afraid he’d hurt Seth? Either emotionally or physically? Was he afraid Seth would get too attached?

Or maybe…

Was Vargas scared that whatever would happen between them would lead to heartache for himself? Had Dylan been right? Was this about more than sex for Vargas?

Hope welled inside Seth with such force that, for the first time since he’d had the idea to stay with Vargas, he realized he hadn’t come close to understanding how much he could get hurt.

* * * * *

Vargas had the majority of the food ready and was finishing chopping the tomatoes and other vegetables by the time he heard Seth coming down the hall.

At the kitchen doorway, Seth hung back, leaning his weight on his cane.

Vargas asked, “All unpacked?”

“Yeah.”

“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

Seth came forward. “I’ll set the table.”

While Seth quietly moved around the room, Vargas finished the meal prep, pointing Seth to the cabinets that held the plates and glasses, then the drawer with the silverware. Seth’s unsteady stop and start movements seemed less pronounced the longer he was in the apartment. He also favored his left side far less.

The relative silence lingered as they ate, each offering a few words here and there, but for the first time in two years, the quiet between them felt awkward and uncomfortable.

And Vargas hated that.

As Seth set his napkin beside his cleared plate, Vargas fished out the key card from his wallet. He slid it across the table. “This is for you. It opens all the doors in the Haven and the ones here at the apartment. The hallway outside leads to a set of stairs. At the base is a door that goes out into the back parking lot, so you never have to walk through the club if you don’t want to.”

Seth nodded.

“You got your phone with you?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it over.

“This is the number for the main security office.” When Vargas had the number saved, he gave the phone back and added, “Like I said before, if you need anything and I’m not here, you talk to Carter.”

“Okay, thanks.” Seth slipped the key card into his back pocket. “Does your accountant ever come to the club?”

It took Vargas a second to adjust to the shift in conversation. “He usually stops in a few times a week. He’s got an office downstairs. Not that he needs to be here that much, but it gives him a reason to come by sometimes, check out who’s here.”

“He’s gay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is everyone who works here?”

Vargas laughed. Then he sat back and considered that for a minute. “Pretty much. Tucker doesn’t actually work here, but he’s straight.”

Seth seemed to be thinking that over. “When did you know for sure?”

“About Tucker?”

“About yourself. That you were gay.”

“That day by the pool with my mom’s neighbor.”

Seth leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table, propping his chin in one hand. “Did you have a hunch before then?”

“I guess I kept trying to tell myself all the thoughts I’d been having about men were just normal guy stuff. That noticing another guy was just me wanting to be like him, admiring his body and his life, that it wasn’t about attraction. But once I had a taste, once I made that guy come with my mouth, there was no going back.”

Seth grinned. “It’s kind of powerful.”

“Was it like that for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Who was he?”

“A guy who lived down the street from me during my freshman year of high school. One day after school, we both missed the bus home and had to wait until someone could come get us. We ended up hanging out in this alcove at the back of the building near the band room. We talked shit for a while, shared a cigarette. My first one. My first experience in a lot of ways, I guess. He was two years older and started going on about how much it sucked to be hard up all the time and not have a girlfriend.”

Vargas snorted out a laugh. “Smooth.”

“Yeah. It was his idea to jerk off at the same time. He was also the one who touched me first, but I was the one who turned it into a blowjob.”

“Did it freak you out how much you liked it?”

Seth met his stare. “No.” His gaze shifted to the arm Vargas had draped across the empty chair beside him. “It did him, though. He wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t even look my way on the bus. I made myself a promise after that day. I’d never date a guy who thought he was straight or wasn’t out.”

Vargas wondered if that was the reason Seth had joined the club? Especially with his limited financial means. Walter had said once that it had something to do with Seth feeling safe there. The shittiest irony of all ironies.

The silence between them was back.

Vargas cleared the plates and silverware from the table and began loading the dishwasher. He heard Seth approach behind him.

“Vargas… I’m sorry if this is weird.”

“If what is weird?”

“Having me here in your space.”

Vargas closed the dishwasher door. He snatched a towel off the counter and turned to Seth. “It’s not weird at all.”

Seth was intently watching him work the towel between his hands as he asked, “Have you ever lived with someone?”

“No.” Vargas returned the towel to the counter. “Came close once, but it ended before we got that far.”

“Did he end it, or did you?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t love him. I cared about him, but I knew that wasn’t enough.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He hesitated. “Real love? Only once.”

“Do you still think about him?”

“All the time.”

Seth nodded as if that confirmed something for him. “Do you still see him?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“Then maybe you guys could try again someday. Maybe you could work it out.”

Vargas took a step forward, and they spoke at the same time.

“Seth—”

“Could you—”

He gestured for Seth to go ahead.

“Could you show me how the control panel for the safe room works?”

At first Vargas couldn’t find his voice. He didn’t want to push too hard, didn’t want to scare Seth. He had to trust his gut when it came to him. Like he’d always done. He replied simply with, “Sure.”

A minute later they stood at the exterior panel situated on the wall of the guest room, Vargas explaining the various functions on the screen. Seth concentrated on each word as if he’d be tested on it later. Or maybe that serious expression was about something else.

Seth gave a try at opening and shutting the door, then locking it, and when he finished, he moved to sit on the foot of the bed, looking tired and worn out.

“You hurting?”

“No. Which is weird. All the walking with the cane… I thought I’d need a pain pill by now, but I feel pretty good. Just tired.”

“Want to turn in early?”

“I might just read for a bit.”

“All right. I’ll leave you to it.” Vargas started for the door.

“Vargas?”

He halted in the doorway.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, for the safe room, for everything. I couldn’t have faced this without you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll always be here for you. Always. Anything you need.” He almost left, but he stopped short again, his hand on the doorjamb, practically squeezing the wood trim into splinters to keep from marching over there and climbing into the bed with Seth. Not to start something physical, but just to be near him. “I’m glad you’re here, Seth. And not just because I want to help you.” He looked to him again. “But because I want you here with me. I want to be with you.”

Seth’s eyes widened. His lips parted. It took him a moment to respond. “I’m really glad I came.”