“Fine. I’ll be right back.”
He went into his bedroom to grab a pillow from the pile on his bed and a light blanket from the closet. He returned and set them on the couch where Miguel was already sitting.
“Get some sleep. We’ll figure the rest of this out in the morning.” After Miguel thanked him, Hector turned to go to bed. It had been a long day and he was tired. Before he could close the bedroom door, however, Miguel called out to him.
“Hector.”
Hector looked back over his shoulder at Miguel. He sat on the couch, head ducked, shoulders curled in as though he were protecting himself. So different than the way Hector remembered him. “Yeah?”
“The circumstances suck, but it’s good to see you again.”
Hector smiled at his long-time yet estranged friend. “You too.”
***
Miguel woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming into an unfamiliar room. Confused and disoriented from sleep, he looked around, trying to get his bearings. When he shifted, his ribs pulled and throbbing pain hit him in a rush. That pain brought back the memory of everything that had gone on the day before.
Yesterday afternoon, he’d been bored and decided to go out for lunch and a movie. He’d gone alone because his friends were busy and Santos was off to one of his meetings. When he’d returned home, Santos had met him at the door, yelling and accusing Miguel of cheating on him. He’d tried to laugh it off, thinking he could tease Santos out of his mood like he had many times before. Unfortunately, he’d misjudged how far gone Santos had already been in his temper.
Santos had grabbed him in a painful, bruising grip and pulled him in close to his face, demanding to know who he was fucking. Except he’d said it in a not so nice way, with a few insults thrown in. Offended and getting mad himself, Miguel had snapped back and tried to yank his arm out of Santos’s grip. And that had set Santos off. The fist had come flying at his face too fast for him to even try to dodge. It smashed into his jaw, and the world had spun as he’d crumpled to the white marble floor of the entryway. Trapped between Santos and the door, he’d cried out in pain when Santos kicked him with the hard toe of his dress shoe.
From experience, Miguel knew it could have been a lot worse. Thankfully, they were interrupted. Santos’s assistant had come out of the office, reminding his boss that he had an associate on the line. Santos had glared down at Miguel, then left him lying there while he went back into the office for his phone call.
While Santos was busy, Miguel had run upstairs, grabbed a couple of bags, as many clothes and shoes as would fit in them, a few other basics and raced back downstairs. To his relief, Santos was nowhere to be seen. But the assistant had been at the door. His face stoic, he’d asked Miguel to hand over his credit cards and car keys. Miguel had, knowing the bigger man could easily take them from him if he resisted. He’d been upset but not defeated. He could walk out and call someone to come get him. But the assistant had surprised him with what he said next.
“I called you an Uber and charged it to my card. They’ll pick you up at the coffee shop down the street.”
Holding back tears, Miguel had nodded his thanks and left. He’d had the driver take him to his mom’s house, because with so little money, his options were limited. Unfortunately, if Santos wanted to look for him, that was the first place he would go.
Miguel shifted again, wincing at his tender ribs. And that was how he’d come to be on this couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but considering how frantic everything had been yesterday, it wasn’t the worst place for him to spend a night.
He got up and went into the little half bath to pee and freshen up. He’d grabbed a few toiletries in his rush last night, so thankfully, he could brush his teeth. He started to brush with his usual vigor, but winced as the toothbrush abraded his sore mouth. Miguel stopped, staring at himself with the toothbrush hanging from his swollen bottom lip. This was pathetic. He had to be careful brushing his goddamn teeth because his boyfriend had punched him in the face. He was lucky a sore mouth was all he had to worry about. As big as Santos was, he could have knocked out some of Miguel’s teeth.
With an admittedly pathetic sigh, Miguel resumed brushing, slowly this time, taking care not to unnecessarily aggravate his sore cheek and lip. He rinsed and spit, then went back out to the living room. The door on the other side of the living room opened at the same time. Hector came out, clad in a pair of black drawstring pajama bottoms. He yawned, rubbing a hand across his flat stomach, fingers dancing over the line of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband.
Miguel stopped and stared. Hector had been good-looking in high school. He’d matured into an exceptionally handsome man. Unlike Miguel’s nearly black eyes, Hector’s were a warm brown that almost seemed to glow in the sunlight pouring into the room. He had dark brown hair cut close on the sides and a little longish on top. It looked soft. But his hair and full lips appeared to be the only things soft on him. Hector’s jawline was strong and graced with the barest hint of morning stubble. His shoulders were broad and very well-defined.
The broad expanse of Hector’s chest drew Miguel’s eye and made him want to reach out and touch it. Smooth, golden skin covered thick muscles that tapered down to ridged abs and a tight waist. Hector’s body was hard, everywhere. Well, Miguel refused to let his eyes drop below Hector’s waist to see if he was hard everywhere. He didn’t need to see if his friend sported morning wood. And no doubt, Hector wouldn’t appreciate him staring at his groin like a pervert.
He looked back up to see Hector watching him. When he raised an eyebrow, Miguel glanced down at himself. He was standing there in nothing but a pair of tight red briefs. An embarrassed flush scorched his face, and he jerked forward to grab his jeans from last night off the floor.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he tugged them on. “I was still half asleep when I got up to brush my teeth and didn’t even think.” He pulled on his jeans, grimacing at their cold, wrinkled feel as he slid them up his legs.
Hector shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He stretched and yawned again as he headed into the kitchen. “You want breakfast? I have cereal and bread for toast. That’s about it.”
His jeans on, Miguel pulled a T-shirt over his head for good measure. “Cereal is fine.” Miguel hid a grin as Hector got out a box of Froot Loops. It looked like some things were still the same from when they were kids. Whenever he’d been at the Castillo house on Saturday mornings, Hector had always had a giant bowl of cereal in front of him. They each poured a bowl of the colorful cereal and sat down at the kitchen table to eat.
The hum of the fridge and what filtered in from outside the window were the only sounds in the quiet kitchen. Hector seemed content to eat in silence, and Miguel didn’t want to be a pest and disturb him. When he was finished, Hector poured himself another bowl before pushing the box toward Miguel.
“More?”
Miguel shook his head and carried his empty bowl to the sink to rinse out. When he was finished, he lingered there, unsure what to do next.
“Sit down.”
Miguel sat.
“Are we going down to the station to fill out a police report today?” Hector asked after swallowing another bite of cereal.