Chapter Three

“You’re just going for the one night?” Vargas asked.

“Yeah,” Dylan said from where he was leaning against the hall wall outside the apartment he shared with Seth. He continued repeatedly tapping the heel of his boot against the wall behind him. “I’ll be back tomorrow. My cousin’s accident wasn’t bad. I just wanna see if he needs anything.”

“Fair enough.” Vargas focused on Toby. He had his long, lean frame propped against the opposite hall wall. “And you’re still working nights?”

“For a little bit longer. I could use a vacation day, but Seth said he didn’t want me taking any extra time off.” He shrugged. “It seemed like he wanted to try staying by himself.”

Which made sense. Seth had been mentioning more and more often that he couldn’t stand inconveniencing people anymore.

Dylan and Seth had first moved in together when it became clear soon after Seth had left the hospital’s inpatient rehab facility that he couldn’t live alone. He and Dylan had decided on a larger two-bedroom apartment in Seth’s same building. In most cases, the arrangement worked out well for both of them.

Except that Dylan had been gone a lot more lately.

Vargas looked to Seth’s friends again, first one, then the other. They were waiting for his input.

When he’d arrived at the apartment a few minutes earlier, the door had flung open before he even had time to knock. Dylan and Toby rushed out, frantically closing the door behind them as if they were being chased. Turns out they’d just wanted to get his thoughts on Seth’s plan.

“Well,” Vargas said as they continued staring at him, “I think if he says he’s ready, then we need to respect that.”

“But what if—” Toby clamped his mouth shut as if he shouldn’t have said anything. Which was bullshit. He had every right to speak up. He was Seth’s oldest friend and had known him longer than anyone. Several years back, when they’d both been homeless teens struggling to survive, they had been each other’s lone support system.

“What is it?” Vargas asked him.

Toby lifted his head. “I just worry about him.”

“Me too. But he wants to move on, and only he knows what he needs and what he’s ready for.”

“Yeah,” Dylan offered. “It’s gotta be his call.”

He got it. Of course he did.

Dylan hadn’t known Seth before their ordeal, but he’d been stubborn about making himself a permanent presence in Seth’s life. The two had become friends despite Seth’s initial inability to speak to anyone but Vargas. It was a testament to Dylan’s determination that he hadn’t given up on Seth.

Vargas moved in to stand before the younger man. “How are you doing?”

Dylan laughed as he shook his head. “Man, you really need to get a new line. I’m fine. I’m not naked and locked in a metal cage, so it’s a good day, yeah?” He laughed more.

“If you need anything—”

Dylan held up a hand. “Give you a call. I got it. It’s your soundtrack.” He glanced to Toby with an exaggerated eye roll. Studying Vargas’s face again, Dylan shook his head and added, “Sorry. I don’t mean to be an ass. I really don’t. I appreciate the concern and everything you’ve done for all of us.”

“It’s okay. I’m a pushy bastard sometimes.” Vargas turned to Toby and gestured to the apartment door with a tip of his head. “So all he said was that he’s okay staying here alone overnight?”

“Yeah. He actually seems excited about it. But he did say something else weird to me when we were alone earlier. He asked if I was mad at him.”

“For what?”

“Because he went to your club when I told him it was a bad idea, that it wasn’t the place for him. I warned him something could happen.”

That hit Vargas square in the chest as if the words had literally been delivered with a punch. Toby had never mentioned that before.

Toby shook his head. “I said that was ridiculous. That none of this was his fault because he went to some club.”

“Why did he bring this up now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do,” Dylan said softly. “Last night he got a call from a reporter. I got the same call. The guy wants to do a follow-up piece about us, show where we are now, how we’ve recovered.” Dylan looked to the closed door of the apartment. “It’s got Seth thinking about what happened, about where he’s at in his life, about whether he’s recovered at all.”

“Dammit!” Vargas spun away from them. He didn’t want to direct his anger their way.

Toby asked, “Why would a reporter contact you now?”

Vargas swung back around. “Because of Prescott’s appeal.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “And…”

“What?”

“He told us about them moving Prescott to the jail here in the city.”

Shit. So much for breaking the news gently.

Dylan continued. “Apparently the appeal’s going to make what happened big news again.”

Exactly what none of them needed. Definitely not Seth.

Two surgeries on his spine, months of physical therapy for his leg and knee, more for his back and to regain his strength after each surgery, week after week of visits to his psychologist, and now… he was so close to ditching the wheelchair for good, so close to being able to stay in the apartment by himself for more than two hours. So close to spending the night on his own. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to leave the apartment alone.

Dylan said, “I told him to ignore any calls he didn’t recognize.”

“Good. Maybe if none of you talk to the press, they won’t latch on to the story.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

They were all quiet for a few breaths. Then Dylan pushed away from the wall. “Well, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Me too,” Toby said. “I’ll walk out with you.” To Vargas he added, “I can come back before work to check on him if you think I should.”

“Nah. He’ll be okay.” Vargas wasn’t about to consider the alternative.

“Okay.” Toby held back while Dylan went to the apartment door and unlocked it for Vargas. Both men offered their goodbyes, but then Toby stopped Dylan with a hand on his arm. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Sure.” Dylan headed down the hall and waited at the far end near the elevator.

Toby kept his voice low as he spoke to Vargas. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Careful?”

Toby hesitated. He wouldn’t make eye contact. Instead he raised a hand and ran the tips of his fingers along the scar on his cheek, the result of a childhood accident. His focus on the scar always seemed an unconscious move. Something he did whenever he felt nervous or insecure. Or maybe in this case, when he didn’t know how to put into words what he wanted to say.

“Just say it, Toby. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“I’ve been worried about something for a while now. About you. I know things are different than before, but Seth was always getting a crush on every guy who was nice to him, everyone who paid him a little attention.” He paused, pointedly staring Vargas down for the first time. “Especially older guys.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“No. I just got to thinking that maybe…” He didn’t finish.

Vargas tried to keep his reaction neutral, but he couldn’t ignore the way his breath caught in his throat at the thought of Seth wanting something to happen between them.

“Toby, I’m just trying to be his friend.”

“I get that, but…” Toby glanced toward the apartment door as if afraid he’d see Seth standing there, listening to them. “Just make sure he knows it.”

“Okay. But I’m pretty sure he’s still not in a place where he’s ready for anything like that. He might not be for a while.”

“I know, but that could change. Maybe before you even realize it, and then it’ll be too late. His heart will get broken again, and maybe this time, with everything he’s been through, it’ll break him.”

Vargas tipped his head back and drew in a deep breath. “Point taken.” He met Toby’s gaze. “I’ll be careful.”

“All right. Oh, and…” Toby grinned and nodded toward the open apartment door. “Don’t get mad at him.”

“Why?”

“He’s working on a project.”

“And I’m not going to like it?”

Toby laughed. Without adding more, he took off for where Dylan waited down the hall.

When the pair were out of sight, Vargas picked up the two bags he’d left sitting on the hall floor earlier. Drawing in another long inhale, he opened the door the rest of the way and headed into the apartment.

Metallic banging came pouring out from the kitchen. He had a hard time picturing what Seth was up to. He wasn’t much of a cook. In fact, there hadn’t been one thing Seth had ever made for him that hadn’t been an effort to chew and swallow and offer a smile throughout.

Vargas dropped the bags by the door. The layout of the apartment was similar to Seth’s old place with one large living room to the right, and to the left: a narrow kitchen with a single point of entry and a hallway that led to the apartment’s two bedrooms and the lone bathroom. He went to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

Seth was lying on his back on the floor, his entire upper body inside the cabinet under the sink as he tinkered with something in there. He was talking to himself. No, repeating something over and over.

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Righty tighty, lefty loosey.”

Vargas couldn’t hold back the grin.

The tiny room looked like a storm had blown through it, leaving behind everything the wind had tossed about in its fury. Tools and other supplies were sprawled all over the floor. Screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, plumber’s tape. An iPad sat propped open, paused on what appeared to be a plumbing how-to video. Seth’s cane was leaning against the stove. His wheelchair sat by the refrigerator, close enough he could access it without too much strain.

Seth was in his usual baggy gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve white T-shirt. The ensemble always left the fading scar above his right eye as the only visible evidence of the numerous cuts and wounds his body had sustained. He had one leg bent, the other leg with the previously broken shin and kneecap out straight. The brace he’d worn for months had been gone for a while now, but it was clear Seth still favored that leg whenever he got in and out of the wheelchair or when he walked with the cane.

Without moving from where he had his torso tucked inside the cabinet, Seth reached alongside his leg, groping for, and completely missing, the screwdriver lying beside him, all the while never letting up on the repetition of the same four words. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey.”

Vargas approached, picked up the screwdriver, and held it inside the cabinet opening. “You looking for this?”

Seth sat up with a start, banging his head on the underside of the sink. “Shit.” He immediately dropped to his back again.

Vargas winced. He should’ve announced himself. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” At that angle they couldn’t see each other, but he could hear Seth furiously rubbing the top of his head. Then he froze. “Uh, Vargas, is that you?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, good.” An energetic laugh burst out of Seth.

Damn, that laugh sounded great. Vargas had been hearing it more and more lately, and the laughter never failed to brighten his day. That, and seeing Seth determined to do things for himself, had all Vargas’s tension fading away in an instant.

He also couldn’t help but picture the man lying before him as naked and vibrant and erotically-charged as he’d been in his recent dreams.

Vargas squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. Toby was right. He had to be careful going forward. Very, very careful.

But not because of what Seth was feeling.