Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Axel rummaged inside his backpack, grabbed a pack of Mucinex and a bottle of water, and shot out of the tent.
He hoped Waylan would be there when he returned. But he probably wouldn’t be.
After he and Clarence were satisfied Ms. Joyce would rest peacefully—well, as peaceful as she could on her stacks of cardboard—they went back to Clarence’s shelter.
Where’d he go, dangit?
“He probably went down to the shore…he usually does that late at night,” Clarence said, as if he’d read his mind.
“That darn kid is something else.” Clearence moaned around the forkful of hot roast beef. “Still won’t tell me why he’s even out here, buddy.”
“Does he have family?”
“Not since he came out. His parents are super religious.”
Axel sighed. Something still seemed off. Waylan had to be in his early thirties. He couldn’t’ve been relying on his parents for shelter.
“I think it had to do with a man.” Clarence downed half a bottle of water. “He’ll stare off into space sometimes with a sad expression, as if he’s remembering a time when he was happy…and loved.”
Luckily, Axel specialized in love.
He grabbed the blanket he’d brought for him, left the tent, and headed down to the shore to find his lost heart.
Axel spotted him down the shoreline, sitting on the damp sand, knees pulled up, staring straight ahead. Axel’s soul called to him, and it wasn’t thirty seconds before Waylan lifted his head, looking back and forth before he turned and locked eyes with him.
He heard me!
Axel could barely breathe as he took cautious steps toward Waylan, the wind biting his cheeks, the blanket heavy in his hands.
“Hey,” Axel whispered as he lowered himself beside him, draping the blanket over their shoulders. “I took this right off my bed. It retains heat like crazy.”
Waylan started before he tried to inch away as though Axel’s nearness burned.
“Good evening,” Axel said, keeping his voice low.
Waylan didn’t respond, staring with those sorrowful eyes.
By the gods, that stare. Axel swallowed hard, again getting caught in the feelings Waylan roused deep in his core.
Next thing he knew, he found himself staring too.
That aura…heavens… A luminous red-violet, a bleeding beauty of passion, determination, and strength.
Axel believed the universe didn’t make accidents. It was telling him loud and clear—Here’s the other half of your light. Hold fast.
Axel wondered if his pink glow was as visible to Waylan. Could his other half feel his empathy, compassion, and tenderness?
Pure-gray eyes, the color of rain clouds, fixed on him, full of suspicion.
“They’re like twilight caught between day and night, holding both promise and ache at once.”
Waylan scoffed. “More babbling. What the hell do you see out here that’s poetic?”
Your eyes.
Axel smiled.
“I brought food for you too,” he said in a low tone.
Waylan didn’t move, his shoulders rigid.
Axel had been told enough times that his voice and words soothed. Waylan might not want to admit it, but the man’s eyes didn’t lie.
Axel chose a poem he loved by an eighteenth-century poet he’d done his dissertation on, about the ocean’s beauty, about tides returning what was lost, about finding pearls hidden under rough water.
He closed his eyes, letting the words drift from him and dissolve into the night air, low and rhythmic, for Waylan.
When he was done, Axel hummed in appreciation. It felt good to remember those words, and even better to give them to Waylan’s light.
Finally, Waylan rasped, “Why do you keep coming here? Wasting time on…on us?”
Axel remembered the cardinal rule—don’t trust anyone.
He remembered predators in nice suits who offered help only to exploit. Waylan’s doubt was understandable.
“Because I know what it’s like,” Axel said softly. “To be here. To think no one sees you. To want someone to just…notice.” His chest ached. “And after a while, someone did. Selflessly saved me. But I swore to never forget where I came from. And maybe…” His voice cracked. “Maybe the same can happen for you too.”
Waylan frowned before he dropped his head in his dirty hands.
“I’m not out here because I’m stupid, y’know?”
“I never thought that for one second.”
Waylan attempted to run his hand through his hair, but his fingers got caught.
He cursed and shoved his hand back in his lap. “I had a life, a good one. But I was an idiot. Conned by fucking love.”
Axel inched closer, and Waylan released a soft breath.
“It was love at first sight—well, for me it was.” Waylan’s laugh was bitter. “He asked to marry me after three months. I should’ve known better. I was in my third year in college, and my trust fund was more than enough to support me. My parents disowned me, took everything from me: my hope, love, trust, but they couldn’t take the money my aunt left for me.”
Axel pulled the blanket tighter around them when Waylan began to shake.
“So when I met Joshua, he told me all the things I’d been longing to hear and feel again.” Waylan shook his head as if, even now, he couldn’t believe he’d ended up here. “He was a successful financial manager. Wore expensive suits, used to pick me up after class in a chauffeured Benz, had a huge office downtown and a penthouse in the Westin hotel. Spending money on me like it was water.”