A loud crash sounded behind him, and he, along with everyone else, looked around to see what happened. That new guy who’d recently moved into his building stood frozen, big green eyes popping wide at the display of refried-beans cans now rolling around his feet. What the hell was his name?
Morgan Cantrell—that was it.
Prior to Cantrell moving in, the real-estate agent had forwarded his information to Leo, who, intrigued by a man who wore a shirt and tie while apartment-hunting, did a little research of his own. The nervous, slightly shy man didn’t fit with the usual type who rented in the building. His marriage at the W in Times Square to some hotshot lawyer had made the New York Times and solidified his opinion. Tenants in his building didn’t normally have that kind of bank, and Cantrell intrigued Leo. Something must’ve happened to make him walk away from the square-jawed, grinning husband and all that money, to end up in this not very desirable part of Brooklyn. Alone.
As a clerk restacked the scattered cans, Cantrell continued to apologize and chase after the ones that rolled away.
“I’m so sorry. I took one, and they all came down…”
Flustered and red-faced, Cantrell crouched, his hands full. Since he’d moved in, Leo had passed him a few times in the hallway, but they never spoke. Cantrell had always stepped aside for him and didn’t meet his eyes, almost as if afraid.
Instead of paying for his groceries and leaving the store, Leo found himself walking toward Cantrell. “Are you okay?”
Big eyes met his, and Cantrell rose to his feet and blinked. He handed the cans to the clerk, who finished stacking them. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Leo raised a brow, his gaze traveling to the beans display. “You sure? Doesn’t look like it.”
“I said I’m fine,” Cantrell snapped, then grew wide-eyed and pale. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Without another word, he ran out of the store.
Leo took in Cantrell’s abandoned cart, which contained a package of ground beef, tortilla chips, and an avocado, and decided he couldn’t leave it there.
He added his own purchases and wheeled the cart toward the checkout.
“Friend of yours, Leo?” Ekaterina, the cashier, rang him up.
“No, a new tenant. He moved in a few weeks ago, and I don’t think he’s lived on his own for a while.”
“Well, you’re sweet to buy his groceries. That’ll be $27.46.”
With a faint smile, he swiped his credit card. He wasn’t sweet, unlike Morgan Cantrell, and Leo couldn’t help wondering what his story was.
* * *
THREE
* * *
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. I wish we could come see you too.”
Morgan paced his apartment, running his fingers through his hair. It had been a lousy day, and he wanted to do nothing except catch up on some reading. But he hadn’t spoken to his parents since he’d moved into his new apartment, and now that they’d called him, he had to come up with an excuse why he couldn’t see them. Again.
“But you always come home to visit over the summer. We’re going to miss seeing you. Dad was looking forward to going fishing and everything.”
God, he hated lying to his parents, but he couldn’t tell them the truth. They were so proud of his accomplishments. He was the first in his family to graduate college, and they’d been bursting with pride when he got his Master’s in Education. His mother had bragged to everyone she met in their small town upstate that Morgan was going to be a teacher. The day he left for his job in New York City, they were concerned but understood.
“We know you’ll be careful, but the city can be dangerous for someone like you.” His father held his shoulder tight. “You’re too kind and trusting.”
“I’ll be all right. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
Fresh-faced and eager, he’d jumped into New York City with open arms. A gay kid who’d never had a real relationship, he couldn’t wait to experience the freedom to be himself. How naïve he’d been. A fool. Sheltered and babied since birth, he’d been the doted on “miracle child” and had only known love.
Jeffrey had taught him about pain and fear.
And now deception.
Morgan had a secret. He hadn’t yet revealed to his parents that he and Jeffrey were divorced. He’d never tell them about the abuse. No one need ever know. The litany of his failures unfolded before his eyes, but there was no yellow brick road rolled out in front of him, leading to the shining city of Oz. And unlike Dorothy, Morgan didn’t want to go home. He had to adjust and pivot and learn to make a new life.
“How’s Jeffrey doing? I swear I’ve never known someone who works so hard.”
Morgan winced at his mother’s sympathy. “Very. Well, that’s him. Nonstop.” He forced out a laugh.
“We were looking forward to seeing our son-in-law again. Meeting him for the first time at the wedding was bad enough, but not seeing him since? Gifts and phone calls are nice and all, but surely he could get at least a few days off to see us?”
Once they’d become serious, Jeffrey had been happy to talk on the phone with his parents every week, and Morgan fell even more in love with him when, for his parents’ wedding anniversary, Jeffrey surprised them with a cruise. They’d had the most wonderful time and couldn’t stop telling their friends how their fabulous son-in-law had given them that gift.
During their marriage, Jeffrey had made zero attempts to join Morgan on his visits upstate, using his brutal work schedule as an excuse. With the wisdom of hindsight, Morgan now knew it was because they were small-town people with small-town values. His parents weren’t rich and had no contacts Jeffrey could use, so as far as he could see, they were merely deadweight.
“He’s in the middle of a big case now, and I-I took on extra administrative work this summer and can’t leave. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’ll miss you, but your careers are important.”
“Thanks. I’m really sorry.” Morgan gulped, feeling like shit.
“Don’t apologize. We understand.” His mother’s considerate reassurance only fueled his guilt. “We love you both. Say hello for us, and we’ll talk to you next week.”
He tossed the phone to the couch and huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The sounds of traffic filtered in through the window, and he fanned his face. That morning he’d bought an AC window unit, and with the super’s permission, had it installed, but the energy-saver, low setting wasn’t providing any relief, and he was hot as hell. He decided to turn it up to full blast, which promised to cool off a space this size in less than five minutes. To hell with the electricity bill.
His stomach growled, and he thought of the shopping cart he’d left behind in the supermarket the day before. He’d been so embarrassed at knocking over the cans display, that when Leo the super approached him, he couldn’t do anything but run. Once home, he took a rare sleeping pill and went straight to bed, even though he hated how groggy and disoriented it left him feeling.
God, you’re a jerk. A jerk and a klutz, and now people in this neighborhood know it.