Chapter Eight
Sam woke, head fuzzy, his body heavy with the warm weight on top of him. He went from asleep to alert in a matter of seconds at the murmur of a voice a little too close for comfort. He relaxed when he realized it was Drew, laying on top of him and shifting restlessly. His voice grew louder. “No, no…”
Sam tried to settle him, hands stroking along his arms.
Drew jerked awake with a shout, struggling to push away from him. “Russ, stop, please.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s Sam, it’s just me,” he said, tightening his hold on Drew, whose struggles had him falling towards the floor.
“What?” Drew asked, glancing around like he had no clue where he was or what was going on. “Where… Russ?”
Peering down at Sam, there was no sense of recognition in his eyes, not at first.
“No, Drew, it’s Sam. It’s okay. You fell asleep, that’s all. You were sleeping, and you had a dream.”
The younger man’s whole body shuddered against Sam, before going limp and sinking down against him, his face pressed to the curve of Sam’s shoulder. When another full body shiver hit him, Sam set cautious hands on his back, trying again to soothe and settle him.
“Shh, it’s fine, you’re okay. You just came out of a pretty deep sleep, that’s all.”
Was it? There was such fear in Drew’s voice as he woke. He didn’t lift his head and Sam could feel puffs of warm air from Drew’s breath, a little too fast and a little too shallow. His body shivered harder. Whatever the dream had been, it had really spooked him.
Sam’s hands, which were running slowly up and down Drew’s back, didn’t seem to have the desired effect, so he changed tack, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him tightly.
“I’ve got you, okay?”
“Okay,” Drew mumbled back, and some of the tension leeched from his body. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he said, taking the chance to ask a question. “Are you running from someone, Drew? Is that what all this is about?”
Drew went still, the room silent except for each whisper of breath between them.
“Yeah,” he finally murmured. “I had to get away.”
The pieces were falling into place, Drew’s shifting story finally getting somewhere close to the truth.
“This really isn’t about gambling then. It’s something more personal. You were in a relationship?”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s why you couldn’t tell Logan the truth.” It was all starting to make sense. He felt bad for taking advantage of Drew’s confused state but if that was what was going on, he needed to know more.
“Those bruises, the ones you got before you arrived. Was that him?”
Drew seemed a little more awake now, his body tensing against Sam at the question. He wasn’t sure he was going to get an answer, worried he’d pushed too hard, too soon.
“Yeah,” Drew croaked, parroting his words back. “That was him.”
“And the assault last week. Did he do that? Did he track you down?” That was the cop part of his brain getting the priorities straight. Assess the immediate danger.
“No. I told you. Three guys. Strangers.” Drew seemed disgruntled at the question.
“You also told me that was over a gambling debt, which, if what you’ve said since is true, it wasn’t.”
Drew pushed up on his arms, meeting Sam’s eyes for a moment. “You were pushing me to report it. I thought if I told you I’d been gambling, you’d leave it alone.”
He settled his head back down on Sam’s chest. “I didn’t want to lie. I’m sorry.”
“If you didn’t want to lie, then why did you?” He was a little mystified. Drew’s story still wasn’t adding up.
“I’d only been here a week, I didn’t want all that trouble.”
Sam didn’t see how lying about it was any less trouble, but he let it go, hearing how defensive Drew was getting.
Twisting his wrist to see his watch, he groaned. “I have to get up now, unless I want to be late. Are you working today? It’s still early, you should go back to bed and get some sleep.”
Drew huffed against him. “The diner let me go yesterday. I think the black eye and split lip after only a week was too much for them.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m gonna wait a day or two till the bruising starts to fade and go job hunting again.”
His fingers trailed along Sam’s collar bone. “I should probably let you get up, huh?”
“That might be an idea,” Sam replied, squeezing Drew’s arm gently. “Thanks for keeping me company last night.”
He’d needed that, much more than he’d needed another beer or three, which was the only way his evening was going until Drew showed up.
“Anytime. You make a very comfortable pillow,” Drew joked, pushing himself up and off Sam to stand on the floor next to the couch.
Sam felt a momentary pang of loss as Drew moved away, taking in the other man’s ruffled appearance, from his rumpled shirt to his hair standing up on end. As if reading his thoughts, Drew combed fingers through his hair.
Despite his disheveled appearance, Sam had a near irresistible urge to kiss him, to feel Drew’s lips yield under his, to run his own hands through that messy hair. Shaking off his distraction, he got to his feet, his back protesting the night spent on the couch.
“I’ll see you this evening, okay? We should talk more, if you’re up for that.”
Drew shrugged, shuffling backward a step. “Might depend on the topic of conversation.”
“Hey, look, you’re here. You did what you had to do and got out. That’s the hardest part. Most people in bad relationships never get that far.”
That earned him an awkward smile. It would have to do.
Drew felt bad and he wasn’t sure why. Sure, he hadn’t told Sam the full story, but he hadn’t planned on telling him any of it. Logan wasn’t the only person he needed to protect now.
He didn’t let himself spend the morning moping around feeling sorry for himself. Instead, he went to the nearby library and copied another bunch of résumés, handing them out anywhere he thought they might be looking for staff. Unlike his first week, where he’d hung around to talk to the managers in person, this time he just dropped them in and left, keeping a note of the places that took them. In a few days’ time, when he didn’t look so bad, he’d call in and speak with them. Unless they called him first. A man could dream, couldn’t he?
He dropped his fifth into an upmarket bistro that seemed to do a brisk breakfast service then went next door to a deli. He was just leaving again when the waitress from the bistro ran out after him, calling.
“Manager wants to see you,” she said, gesturing him back inside.
The manager, a man in his fifties named Harry, looked him up and down. “You got a record?” he asked.
“No,” Drew replied.
“And the eye?”
“Mugged on my way home last week.”
“Damn city’s a death trap at night,” Harry replied. “My barista quit this morning, no notice. Says here you know your way around a coffee machine?” He tapped Drew’s résumé.
“I worked for six months in a place that did specialty coffees. It was a few years ago, but I still remember the important stuff.”
“I’ll give you a week's trial if you can start today. You work seven-thirty to three-thirty. Two thirty-minute breaks at quiet times. I pay a dollar above minimum wage.” He paused, waiting for Drew’s reply.
“Sounds great,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand. “I’m ready right now.”
“Good. That’s the kind of work ethic I like. I’ll show you around.”
He returned home that evening smelling of coffee, with a bag of pastries that had gone uneaten and a small bag of coffee beans that were almost expired.
He had a few hours to himself in the apartment, so he did some cleaning and some thinking. Sam’s reaction to learning the truth about him hadn’t been what he’d expected. Drew being gay didn’t bother him, understandably. Nor the fact that he’d run from a relationship. But he hadn’t bought Drew’s excuse for why he hadn’t reported the assault. And Sam was like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t going to leave it. How much did Drew want to tell him? How much was safe? Cops knew crimes when they heard about them, so the second he started mentioning details about Russell and what Drew knew about him, he was going to want to act. But how would Drew ever be safe or keep the people around him safe, if he went up against Russ? No, there were some things he had to keep to himself and the truth about Russell was one of them.