Page 78 of Hurricane Love

She was gone, and he had to do this by himself.

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, he imagined his body slowly sinking into the mattress, descending even farther through two levels of concrete and into the earth itself. Decomposing until it became food for the worms. Who might miss him if that happened? How long would it take for someone to find his body? Morbid thoughts, he knew, but such was the power of his loneliness.

He startled from his gloomy reverie a while later to a pounding on his door. A hallucination? He stilled on the bed and waited to see if the noise might repeat itself. Maybe one of his neighbors had locked themselves out and gotten their apartmentsconfused again. That had happened just the other night, but it was daytime still, wasn’t it?

More pounding, louder and more urgent this time, accompanied by someone yelling his name. A voice that he recognized. Diego? That couldn’t be real, could it? Wylie climbed cautiously out of bed and headed toward the apartment’s front door. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole because even a robber would be better than no one at this point, and if he’d only imagined Diego, then he was really going to fall apart.

He caught only the briefest glimpse of him before the man himself had enveloped Wylie fully into a good, strong hug. Warm and slightly damp from sweat and clearly a bit panicked, Diego held him tightly as Wylie was transported home. To late nights at the pit and marathon sex and waking up to find his favorite person sprawled out right there beside him. With Diego’s arms around him and his familiar scent in his nostrils, his nervous system immediately chilled the fuck out.

You’re safe now.

“What are you doing here?” Wylie asked, barely believing his eyes. He had to wipe his face because it seemed he’d been crying in addition to everything else.

“Baby,” Diego said softly, tenderly, as if Wylie might shatter right there in front of him. He held Wylie’s chin in his hand and inspected him all over. Wylie was certain he failed at that too. He looked like shit and probably smelled worse. He hadn’t showered in days or bothered to shave the stubble that grew sporadically on his face. His shirt was probably stained and his pants had seen better days. He thought briefly back to when Diego had said he looked sexy in these sweats. Now, he just looked like a slob.

“You going to let me in?” Diego asked, still standing in the hallway with a duffle bag at his side.

“Yeah.” Wylie backed away from the doorway. His place was a mess, and he felt an immediate hot shame at being found like this–dirty, crying, neglecting himself and his belongings. “I’msorry,” he said as the knot in his throat choked off his ability to speak.

“Don’t be sorry. Is it okay that I’m here?” Diego asked.

Wylie nodded as if his head was being pulled by strings. “More than okay. I wish I was in better shape for you.”

Diego shook his head slowly, still radiating warmth and concern. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just really glad I’m here.”

“Me too.” It wasn’t hope that he felt, not exactly, but a slight lessening of the heaviness, an incremental relief. Diego was here. Whatever happened next, Wylie wouldn’t have to face it alone. “I need some help.” He searched Diego’s face for judgement or disgust, but Diego only smiled. His beautiful, radiant smile.

“That’s why I’m here, boss. To help.”

Diego suggested they take a shower,citing his own sweaty travels as the reason. He was being kind and Wylie knew it. Nodded dumbly, he followed Diego toward the bathroom, grateful to have someone else take charge and tell him what to do.

There was an awkward moment when Diego asked him if he’d prefer to shower alone. Wylie did not want to doanythingalone. In fact, he wanted to be as close to the other man as possible and fuck whatever feelings might come later. He was in survival mode.

During their shower, they fell easily into old patterns, taking turns washing each other as a way to reconnect. For Wylie, he needed to make sure that this was stillhisDiego and that nothing material had changed between them. Same tattoos, same scars, same smooth skin that responded so eagerly to his touch. When it was his turn, Diego took over, showing even more care than usual, knowing how fragile Wylie was right then.

Fragile.That was the word Nancy had used to describe Diego, but look at him now, swooping in to save Wylie from his cripplingdepression, and even before, at the pit, doing everything in his power to protect Wylie from a strung-out, gun-slinging Cody Wallace. Diego had been incredibly brave and self-sacrificing. So, he supposed they were both a little fragile in their own ways.

As Diego washed his hair, digging his fingertips gently into his scalp, Wylie felt a measure of tension release. He took a soul-cleansing breath and some of the stone weighing down his chest began to break apart. Yes, he was behind on his assignments. Yes, he might fail all of his classes and get kicked out of law school, but in that moment, he was cared for. He was seen.

After drying him off, Diego led him to his messy bed, pulled down the bedding and instructed him to climb in. His bed, which had been such a place of contention, where he’d tossed and turned all night, now had a completely different vibe with Diego there with him. They lay facing each other, much as they had so many times in Diego’s apartment.

Diego pressed Wylie’s fingers to his mouth and kissed each knuckle individually, then asked, very carefully, “How are you doing?”

“Not great,” Wylie said. He didn’t need to elaborate much more than that because the evidence of it was all around them, but still, he wanted to explain himself. “I haven’t been sleeping or eating right. I’m stressed about school and money and worried I’m going to fail all my classes. And…” Wylie might start crying again but whatever, he needed to be honest. “I’m really, really lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Diego said and collected one of Wylie’s tears with his finger.

“What are you sorry for?” Wylie asked.

“That I wasn’t here to help you.”

“Guess I’m not as strong as I thought.”

“You’re plenty strong,” Diego said. “But you’re not used to being alone. I thought you’d make friends and get so wrapped up in your life here that you wouldn’t need us anymore.”

“I need you,” Wylie insisted.

“I know. I’m sorry for being an ass.”