Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,26

to…” His voice wavered. “Make you not hate me.”

“Ay, dios mío.” Silver pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t hate you. But we’re not having any discussions out here on Figueroa. Come with me.”

Silver slipped his hand behind Donovan’s shoulders and encouraged him to slide out from behind the wheel. He gently grasped Donovan’s wrist, careful to avoid the injury on his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Silver. You’re a good man and…” Donovan rose to his full height and wobbled. “Fuck. I’m not sure what I am anymore.”

Silver drew his eyebrows together and released Donovan’s wrist to wrap an arm around his waist instead. He slowly advanced them to the door and across the threshold. Once they were inside, Donovan stopped, and Silver waited to see if he might be about to collapse. Instead, he gazed around the expanse of the warehouse style building as if drinking it all in.

“Jesus, what a set-up.” He regarded Silver. “You work here all alone? That man who pays you isn’t here too, there’re no other mechanics?”

“Just me.” Silver squinted as he examined Donovan’s irises. “Did you drive over here after you got hurt? When did it happen?”

Donovan blinked down at him. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in the daytime. You’re more beautiful than I remembered.”

Silver let out another sigh. He knew a life in crisis when he saw one.

“One thing at a time.” Silver led him to the desk chair. “Let’s get you seated, then we’ll go from there.”

Donovan allowed himself to be led then set himself down with a groan. Silver retrieved one of the plastic patio chairs he kept downstairs for visitors, then set it front of Donovan so he could sit down as well. He lifted Donovan’s hand with care, then slowly peeled back the loose bandage to check how badly he’d been hurt. He didn’t like the look of the long gash and was worried it hadn’t been cleaned properly.

“Let me make sure this is clean, then get a new bandage.” He glanced up at Donovan and was startled at how vulnerable and sad he appeared, his shoulders slumped, eyes trained on the ground. “Hey. Look at me.”

Silver smoothed Donovan’s tangled hair, allowing himself to caress Donovan’s head before tucking the unruly strands behind his ear. In a barely perceptible move, Donovan leaned into Silver’s touch, his eyes drifting closed, lips parting. Silver’s chest tightened and he wished things between them were different.

Donovan lifted his gaze and met Silver’s eyes. “Please don’t make me leave. Not yet.”

All the irritation he’d felt because of Donovan’s unexpected appearance melted away. What is it about this guy? Maybe he wasn’t an entirely lost cause. Silver cleared his throat. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Someone like Donovan who’d had at least forty years to be shaped into the arrogant bastard Silver had first met, would unlikely be able to change much at this stage of his life.

“I wasn’t planning on making you leave.” He held Donovan’s gaze. “For now.”

Donovan’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Thank you.” He offered Silver a weak smile. “I’ll behave.”

Silver gently laid Donovan’s injured hand on the man’s lap then rose. “Can you take ibuprofen without any side effects?”

A slight crease marred Donovan’s brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Silver tugged on his ear. “Lesson One in behaving. Don’t answer my questions in a defensive or snooty manner. Yes or no works just fine unless you genuinely don’t understand what I’m saying.”

Donovan’s brow wrinkled more. “I understood what you said. And I wasn’t being—” Donovan muttered ‘shit’ under his breath. “All right. I suppose I might have been a tad defensive.”

“Good boy.”

Donovan straightened, his eyebrows shooting up. “I swear this isn’t me being snooty right now, but you do realize I’m quite a bit older than you.”

Silver plucked the first aid kit he kept on the shelf above his coffee area. Car restoration provided many opportunities for accidents. “I figured.” He trailed his fingers over the various compartments until he found the antibiotic cream, a packet of ibuprofen and two large bandages. He then retrieved a water bottle from the fridge. “So, how old are you?”

“How old are you?”

Silver shook his head with a chuckle. “Next rule. Don’t ask a question with another question when the meaning is clear.”

Donovan pinched his lips together in a thin line before responding. “What is it with you? You act as if you’re a parent or schoolteacher disciplining a naughty boy.”

“I’m not acting.” Silver handed the water and painkiller