CHAPTER 4

Logan whistled softly as he walked down the hall, leafing through the mail as he went. He had spent a very productive afternoon at the library and solved several trivial questions about the next chapter.

"Dal-Nathaniel, I'm home," he called as he opened the door.

Nathaniel, who was sitting in the brown leather recliner with Hinx curled up on his lap, turned the TV off as the older man entered the loft. "Hi, Logan. Did you find what you needed?"

"Yeah, I had a good afternoon," Logan replied. He glanced at the black TV screen. "You don't have to turn that off if you're watching something."

"No, it's all right," Nathaniel told him nonchalantly. "It wasn't anything important."

"All right," Logan shrugged, juggling the mail as he took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. "But don't turn it off on my account. I'll be in the workroom if you need anything." He heard the TV come back on as he went down the short hall to his workroom and smiled.

He continued to whistle to himself as he sorted the mail, set aside the bills to be paid and decided he needed something to drink before he dealt with his notes. "What are you wa--" he began as he entered the main room, then stopped abruptly as the TV screen went black again. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"What were you watching?"

"Nothing."

Intrigued, Logan held out his hand for the remote Nathaniel had stuffed down the side of the chair. "Give it," he ordered, wondering what on earth the younger man could be watching.

For a moment, he thought Nathaniel would refuse, but after a moment's hesitation the younger man sighed and handed it to him, eyes fixed on the darkened TV.

Logan hit the 'on' button, then looked down at Nathaniel with a raised eyebrow, struggling not to smile. "Charmed?"

"Yeah. I like it," Nathaniel said, his tone laced with guilt and tinged with defiance.

"Then watch it. It isn't one of my favorite shows but you don't have to turn it off every

time I walk in the room."

"Sorry," Nathaniel muttered sheepishly. "It's just-- It's about witches…"

"So…?"

"So I guess I feel guilty about watching something that blatantly evil."

"But these are good witches," Logan pointed out. "They fight evil."

"Samantha was a good witch," Nathaniel retorted, "but my father still took a belt to me for watching Bewitched."

"Well, I'm not going to take a belt to you for that or anything else," Logan informed him. "So feel free to watch whatever you want."

He tossed the remote on Nathaniel's lap, narrowly missing Hinx, and went on into the kitchen. Hinx gave an indignant meow and jumped to the floor. Following Logan into the kitchen, he sat down next to his food dish and waited commandingly.

Logan set a carton of juice on the counter and automatically reached for the cat food. Just as his fingers brushed the container, Nathaniel called over the blast of exploding demons, "I already fed him."

"Nice try," Logan told the cat dryly as he put the cat food back and closed the cupboard door. "But no."

Hinx stared up at him in bland innocence, as if he didn't know what the man was talking about. When the cupboard didn't reopen, he turned and stalked into the living room where he pointedly sat down with his back to Nathaniel.

"What's in the box on the counter?" Logan asked as he poured a glass of juice, then picked up the carton wrapped in brown paper and heavily covered in tape.

"I don't know." The show ended and Nathaniel turned off the TV and came over to the island. "It came while you were gone."

Logan read the return address label and his face lit up. "It's a box from my mother. One advantage of being single," he explained with a grin, "is that she thinks I can't possibly take care of myself and sends me a care package every month or so."

"It sure isn't going to come open in the mail," Nathaniel observed as he watched Logan struggle to cut through the tape that crisscrossed the box in every direction.

"She gets a little carried away sometimes," Logan explained with a light chuckle. He succeeded in opening the box at last and removed what had to be the whole Sunday newspaper, crumpled and stuffed in every available corner. "Let's see what she sent this time."

He took out four large plastic bags, followed by three envelopes. "Chocolate chip, oatmeal-raisin, peanut butter and... looks like snickerdoodles," he said as he inspected the last bag. He took out a cookie and then offered the bags to Nathaniel, who chose a plump oatmeal-raisin one. As he opened the first envelope, a cascade of coupons showered the counter, provoking a sigh from Logan and a laugh from Nathaniel. The second held pictures.

"That's my older sister, Kelly," he told Nathaniel, giving him a picture of a pretty woman in a well-tailored Ralph Lauren suit. "She's a CPA. And this is my younger sister, Kimberly and her two kids. She's a stay-at-home mom."

Kimberly smiled at the camera while balancing a child of about four on one knee and holding down another down by sheer force, judging by the toddler’s stiff-legged posture. Kimberly seemed oblivious to the silent screech being caught by the camera as she and the four-year-old beamed at the photographer.

"They look nice. Especially the little one," Nathaniel teased, pointing at the screaming imp.

"Not one of his better moments," Logan agreed. "He has a bit of a temper."

"I see." Nathaniel looked from the pictures to Logan as though comparing his image with that of his siblings. "It’s just the three of you?"

"Yes. There were times my mother said that was at least two too many." Logan laughed. "But she usually retracted it when we stopped fighting."

"I always wanted a brother or sister," Nathaniel said pensively.

"You're an only child?"

"Yeah." A quick frown crossed his face. "Something went wrong when I was born and my mother couldn't have any more kids. Something else my father blamed me for," he added matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry," Logan said softly. He drew back the picture he had been about to hand to Nathaniel and busied himself cleaning up the coupons. The last envelope was a thick letter that he would save to read later.

"What's the other picture?" Nathaniel asked curiously, looking at Logan for permission to pick it up. An older couple sat on a porch swing, the dark-haired man with his arm around the woman. The hair and features of the man were nearly identical to those of Logan. "Are these your parents? They look nice. But--" He paused in confusion and laid the picture down on the bar.

"But what?" Logan prompted.

"I thought you said they don't approve of you or your choices. But your mother sent you all these coupons and cookies and pictures. Does- does your father know about it? Doesn't it make him mad?"

Logan felt a pang of regret for the young man and his dysfunctional childhood. "Yes, he does know and, if anything, he encourages her. They aren't angry at me, Nathaniel, not enough to cause a break in the family. They just worry about me and want what's best for me. It's how they show their love."

"Oh," Nathaniel replied doubtfully.

"Have another cookie," Logan suggested with a smile. "Her chocolate chip cookies are some of the best in the world."

"They’re really good," he agreed as he chose a cookie and bit into it. "If I eat very many I'll have to make an extra trip to the gym. I should go anyway. I haven't been in about three weeks."

"Not until after your doctor's appointment tomorrow," Logan told him as he put the snapshots under magnets on the refrigerator. "Do you have a membership somewhere?"

"Yeah, at Gold’s Gym. I have to be careful not to bulk up but I need to stay toned and limber. You wouldn't believe some of the positions--" He stopped mid-sentence, flushing scarlet.

"That's where I belong. We'll have to go together sometime," Logan said, tactfully ignoring the interrupted comment. "After your doctor's visit."

"I don't really need to go, you know. I've already been once; this is just a re-check and I feel fine."

"Did he tell you to come back?"

"Yes, but--"

"No buts," Logan told him firmly.

"You don't have to go with me, you know," Nathaniel said as they were getting ready to leave the next morning. "I don't want to interrupt your writing time."

"I don't mind driving you," Logan replied easily as he rinsed his cereal bowl. "It's a long trip by bus. I'll drop you off and find a place to have coffee and read the newspaper and you can call me when you're ready to be picked up."

"I can't call you," Nathaniel confessed ruefully. "I-- I lost my cell phone." And that was another thing he was going to have to replace, he thought dismally. The bastard had kept his cell phone along with everything else.

"I'm sure they'll let you use the phone in the doctor's office," Logan told him. "But get some change out of the jar in the workroom in case you need to use a pay phone."

The drive to the doctor's office was a quiet one. Logan seemed preoccupied with traffic and the news on the radio and Nathaniel spent most of the trip brooding. After this doctor's visit, there wouldn't be a reason for him stay with Logan any longer. He would be back in his apartment and on his own again. His mind began what was now a familiar exercise as he totaled his assets in his head again and again and always came up with the same answer. He didn't have enough money to get by. Even if he got the cheapest implements, he couldn't begin to replace everything, especially since he had to replace his phone, too.

He could give up his apartment, he thought reluctantly. He hated the idea of living on the street again but his gym membership was paid up. He could keep a few things in his locker and use the shower there. He could trade his books for credit at the used bookstore. That only left his clothes and computer. He stole a look at Logan. Maybe he could ask to leave a box or two at the loft. Just until he got back on his feet again.

Logan glanced over at him and Nathaniel quickly turned his eyes forward again. "Everything ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," Nathaniel lied. He swallowed, trying to ease his dry throat as the car slowed and Logan signaled for the turn into the parking lot.

"There’s a Starbucks a couple of blocks down the street," Logan said as he stopped to let Nathaniel out. "I’ll be here five minutes after you call."

"All right."

The call came less than 45 minutes later, when Logan was only halfway through his newspaper. He got delayed at the counter on his way out so it was slightly longer than five minutes when Nathaniel opened the car door and got in.

"That was fast," Logan observed as he handed Nathaniel a caffe mocha and blueberry muffin.

"Yeah." Nathaniel took a sip and then set the cup in the cup holder while he pulled the door closed and took a bite out of the muffin. "They took me straight back."

"Seatbelt," Logan ordered as he started to pull away. "So, what did he say? Are you going to live?"

Nathaniel stared out his window as Logan drove down the street. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "He said I’m fine. I can go home now."

"Go home? Already?" Logan slowed and came to a stop as a yellow light turned red. "Are you sure?"

"I know what he said, Logan," Nathaniel said irritably as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I guess you can drop me off now if you want. I can get my stuff later."

Logan turned and studied his face while waiting for the light to change. Faint yellow bruises were still visible around Nathaniel’s left cheek and there was a pale red line etched beneath his lower lip where his teeth had bitten through it. He was going to have a hairline scar there, Logan thought absently, and he was still too thin. "There's no hurry," he said noncommittally.

"Green," Nathaniel pointed out as the cars in front of them started through the intersection. "If you don't mind me staying another night, I’d like to make you dinner," he offered. "To say thank you. If you don’t mind."

"Of course I don't mind." Logan glanced toward him and then back at the road. "Why don't you do it tomorrow night? I've already planned dinner for tonight and that will give you time to prepare. You can go home the day after that."

"Ok," Nathaniel agreed.

Nathaniel stuck his tongue between his teeth as he carefully drizzled caramel over the chilled dessert plates. Once satisfied with the design on each plate, he opened the box from the bakery, placed a serving of crème brûlée in the center of each one and set them in the refrigerator.

What next? The herb-crusted pork tenderloin was almost done. The autumn vegetables he had tossed in olive oil and garlic were roasting next to it. The salad of crisp field greens and its accompanying vinaigrette were chilling in the refrigerator.

He frowned as he inspected the table again. It was far from his usual standard. The cheap cotton tablecloth and stoneware dishes were a lowly rendition of the rich linens and fine china he was used to using. The shallow basket of fall flowers went well with the simple wooden candlesticks and napkin rings he had found at the bargain store but again, they were a far cry from the orchids he was used to. The wine was a domestic label rather than imported and the best thing that could be said about the napkins was that they weren't paper.

Maybe he should have spent a little more money... No. He shook his head. He had already taken an appalling amount of money from the cashbox under the sink. This would just have to be good enough.

He felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach as he checked the entree again.

This was the menu he was least familiar with but it was also the one with the least sensitive timing. It would be so much easier if he could just serve Logan and worry about his own meal afterwards. He sighed at the thought. It was much more difficult to have everything perfect if he had to be at the table as well, and it was even more important than usual to serve a flawless meal.

He shivered at the memory of punishments received for minor imperfections in the past. At least he didn't have to worry about that this time, he assured himself. It still had to be flawless, though. For Logan.

"What do you think, Hinx?" he asked the cat twining around his feet. "Do you think he'll like it?"

The tomcat rubbed his ankles as if in approval and Nathaniel picked him up and rubbed his cheek against the soft fur. "What am I going to do, Hinx?" he asked softly. "I'm going to miss you and Logan so much."

Hinx purred against his cheek for a moment and then struggled to get down. When Nathaniel set him on the floor, he trotted over to his food dish and waited expectantly. "I know," Nathaniel said with a shaky laugh. "Feed the cat."

He took care of that priority, then washed his hands, set the plates of salad and vinaigrette on the table, filled the water goblets and added a twist of lemon to each one. After a final critical inspection, he whipped off his apron, took a deep breath and called, "Logan? It's ready!"

"Very nice," Logan approved as he came to the table. This meal obviously meant a lot to the young man. He had spent the entire day preparing for it and insisted on doing everything by himself. Only Logan's insistence on driving had kept him from trudging to the store through the rain and, once home, the older man had been banished to the workroom while Nathaniel cooked.

Even now, he was as nervous as a cat. More nervous than a cat, Logan amended. Hinx was asleep in a chair by the fire, lying on his back with his hind legs widely splayed and his forepaws dangling in mid-air. As an example of feline jumpiness, he was an abject failure.

"Dal-Nathaniel," Logan began when he had finished his salad and the young man jumped up to take his plate.

"Just a minute," Nathaniel requested apologetically. "I have to get the entree. It will only be a minute."

Logan sighed and waited until Nathaniel placed a dinner plate in front of him, then rested his hand on the young man's arm. "Relax, Nathaniel. You've done a fantastic job. I've never had a better meal. If I had known you could cook this well, I would have had you do more of it."

"Thank you." Nathaniel flushed with pride. "I can only do five dinners, though," he confessed. "After that, I'm helpless without a can opener. Not like you; you're a great cook."

"My mother insisted that I learn to cook when I was in high school," Logan explained. "My sisters and I were each responsible for dinner one night a week. I hated it at the time but I have to admit it has come in handy since I've been on my own. Why five?" he asked curiously.

"That's all my master taught me."

"Your master?" Logan arched one eyebrow and then regretted it as Nathaniel flushed again.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"What did you do to this pork? It's excellent." Logan, outwardly calm, turned the subject while mentally berating himself. The pork might be excellent but at the moment all he could taste was shoe leather.

The flush slowly faded as Nathaniel explained. From there the conversation flowed into other common interests until it ended, as it frequently did, with a discussion of Logan's book. "Why is he attacking male prostitutes?" Nathaniel asked curiously. "The original Jack the Ripper only killed women, right?"

"He sees himself as an avenger," Logan explained. "Because his brother died of AIDS."

"Oh. Then maybe--" his eyes lit up, all self-consciousness forgotten as he shared his thoughts.

He was going to miss Nathaniel, Logan realized as he smiled at the young man's enthusiasm. He was such a paradox. So cocky and independent but with such unexpected insecurities. So well-read but with startling gaps in his education. So street-wise but with so little knowledge about home and family.

"Nathaniel," he interrupted, driven by the need to know what had made him into such a compelling young man. He toyed with his wine glass a moment, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know. Or if he even had the right to ask. He finally continued, "I don't want to pry or violate your privacy in any way, so please feel free to ignore this question..."

"What?"

Logan paused, unsure how to phrase it. "Would you mind telling me a little more about your past?" he finally asked lamely.

Nathaniel bit his lower lip, suddenly unsure again. He hated to talk about the past; he hated to even think about it. But Logan had been so kind to him and so respectful of his feelings. Logan was one of the few people who didn't allow his profession to make a difference in how they treated him. Talking about his past, helping with research for the new book, was a small price to pay for all he had been given. He laid his fork next to his plate and folded his hands in his lap.

"I told you a little about my family," he began softly. "It wasn't the best childhood but it was all right. Then, when I was 13, my father was in a car accident. His back was badly injured and he couldn't work after that. After awhile, he decided that the accident was God's punishment for sinful behavior and since he obviously hadn't done wrong, he decided it must be something my mother or I had done. Things got pretty bad after that, and when he started sending money to all those TV ministers and going to faith healers, it got even worse. His disability check wasn't big enough to cover everything and women aren't supposed to work outside the home, so when I was 14 he pulled me out of school and put me to work in his brother's painting business. My uncle paid him under the table and the money went to finance a miracle that never happened." He paused, searching Logan's face for any signs of shock or condemnation of his insolent attitude. His father had whipped him for it more than once, demanding that he be more respectful to his parent.

Seeing only polite interest, he continued, "I hated working for my uncle. I didn't want to leave school. I wanted to graduate and go to college and make something of my life. But I didn't have any other choice; it was my duty to take care of my father. Then one day my uncle hired a temporary worker. Danny was a lot older than me - 18 or 19 - but he was so easy to talk to. I started to sneak out at night and we would go riding in his car and I'd tell him all my dreams and he taught me all about sex." He flushed a little. "Not anal sex. I wasn't ready for that, but everything else. He made me feel good about myself. Wanted." He paused again, picking up his fork and pushing his vegetables around his plate.

"And then your father found out about him?" Logan guessed after a few moments.

"Not exactly," Nathaniel said wryly. "He caught me sneaking in one night but he thought I had been out with a girl. If he had known it was another guy, he would have killed me. As it was... Funny how his back never hurt when he was beating me.

"Anyway," he shook his head as if he could dislodge the unpleasant memories. "Danny announced that he was moving on. I took the envelope of money I was supposed to give to my father and left with him."

His voice caught and he jumped up. "I should clear this table," he said as he started stacking the plates. "You're probably ready for dessert."

"Nathaniel." Logan reached out to touch his hand. "Stop. We don't have to talk about this if it upsets you. Let's change the subject."

"No, it's all right. I don't mind," Nathaniel assured him. "Just let me get the dessert first, ok?" He set the used plates in the sink and got the dessert plates from the refrigerator. Hinx twined around his ankles comfortingly and he slipped the cat a bite of meat before garnishing the dessert with dollops of whipped cream and carrying it back to the table.

"So anyway," he continued as he sat down and picked up his dessert fork, "New York was nothing like what I had expected. I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to school but I thought we could both get jobs and find a place to live and I could get my GED. I thought--

"We stayed with some friends of his at first. There were already 8 people in a one-bedroom tenement apartment when we moved in. Nobody did any work or cleaned up after themselves and they laughed or got angry when I tried. I hated it. I couldn't wait to find someplace better. I kept telling myself it was only temporary, it would get better." He aimlessly scooped up a forkful of the crème brûlée and put it back down.

"But it didn’t."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I went out every day, trying to find someone who would hire a 14 year old with no id. Did you know that even McDonald's won't hire you if you can't prove you're old enough to work? Then I found out Danny was turning tricks for drug money and he wasn't using protection so I refused to have sex with him anymore. The next thing I knew, I was out of money and he had moved on again.

"Things got a little desperate after that. One of the girls, Barbie, was a year or so older than me and she tried to look out for me. Her pimp didn't leave her enough money to help me much, but she said she knew of a man with a stable of boys and she thought maybe I could work for him." He swallowed hard, lost in his memories. He wondered what had ever happened to Barbie. Would she still be there if he went back to look for her? Would she even remember him?

"I didn't want to do it. I held out for as long as I could. But I couldn't find a job anywhere and I was so tired. I was tired of being hungry and tired of being cold and of sleeping on a floor covered with drug paraphernalia and used condoms."

"Why didn't you go to a shelter?" Logan asked gently.

"I couldn't," Nathaniel said simply. "Everyone told me they would lock me up and call my parents and I wasn't going back. My father would have killed me." He took a deep breath. "I met the man and it was-- rough. He asked me all kinds of questions and he made me strip and he inspected me and touched me and-- I hated it so much. But I didn't know what else to do!

"I didn't think he liked me, though. I was short for my age and thin and not very well-developed. But after he found out I was a virgin ass, he said he thought he could do something for me. He thought he could hook me up with one client exclusively. I thought that was a good thing." He gave a bitter laugh at his naivety. "I met the guy, he liked me - and the pimp sold me to him." He swallowed hard, unable to continue.

"Oh, Nathaniel." Logan said softly. "Wasn't there anyone who could help you? Anywhere you could go?"

Nathaniel shrugged as he rebuilt his emotional walls. "Not that I knew of. And anyway, once I stopped fighting him, once I learned to curb my defiance, it wasn't so bad. I hated acting like a little kid, but I had a good place to live and enough to eat and he taught me a lot of things. He had a lot of books and he gave me my computer and a lot of games for it. After awhile, I got used to 'playtime' and all of the sexual implements that he called my toys."

"And you called him your master?"

"No, I called him my Daddy. My master came later. After I had a growth spurt," Nathaniel continued pragmatically, "when even shaving my body regularly couldn't make me look like a little kid anymore. He didn't just dump me, though. He took the time to ask around and he found me a nice master. He even let me take my computer and toy box with me when I left. That's when I moved here and when I learned to cook."

He smiled pityingly at Logan's expression. "It wasn't that bad, Logan. They both took good care of me and at least when they beat me I knew why. And if I was very good, sometimes they would take me to a movie or bring me presents. That's more than my father ever did." He paused and took a sip of wine to clear his throat. "The worst part was when, after he had me properly trained, he rented me out to his friends. I hated it at first but I eventually got used to that, too. I learned-- I mostly learned to shut it out. To pretend it was happening to someone else."

Logan laid a hand over his restless one. "Nathaniel, you don't have to--"

"No." He shook the hand off, knowing he couldn't accept the sympathy and still finish his story. "I'm almost done. When he got tired of me, he offered to find a new master for me and give me half the money. By then I had a good client base, an excellent repertoire and an impressive collection of implements, so I thought I could do better on my own. I thought I could make enough money to support myself while I got my GED and then I could get scholarships or financial aid and go to college. I thought I finally had a chance.

"He helped me get my apartment and gave me some money to tide me over at first and I did everything I could to protect myself. I only accepted new clients if they were referred by old ones. I wouldn't go with anyone a second time if I felt too uncomfortable with them the first time. I only used my own implements and I insisted that my clients always use protection."

"But the last one wouldn't."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "No. And the bastard not only didn't pay me, he kept my toy bag and I can't work without it." He fought down his feelings of shame and humiliation, the hatred for what he was about to ask. Ask? Hell, beg for. But there just wasn't any other choice.

"Logan, do you think you could loan me some money? It's ok if you don't want to," he hurried to add, "I'll understand. But I have to have my implements to work and I won't use anyone else's. God only knows where they've been or if they've been cleaned properly and I can't take that risk. I've been checking online and even if I get a lower quality than my old ones, I can't replace them and pay my rent and I have to pay my rent or I'll be out on the street and I have to have a decent place to live and keep my things and stay clean or I'll lose my top clients and I can't make it without them. I'll pay you back as soon as I can and you can charge me interest and I'll pay back every penny, I promise!" He finished in a rush, afraid to look at Logan's face or see how he was responding.

"Or you can move in here and work for me," Logan suggested quietly.

Nathaniel swallowed hard, staring down at his plate in despair. He should have known, he thought miserably. He never should have told the man everything. He should have known that once Logan knew what he was really like he wouldn't respect him anymore. That Logan would see him the way every other man in his life had ever seen him.

It was a good offer, though, he thought dully. He liked Logan. It was a nice place to live and Logan was a good man. So why was he so disappointed? Why was he so hurt by the offer? It was just another fucking job. He shook his head despondently. It didn't really matter. He didn't have the luxury of being picky and if he had to be a slave again, he would rather have it be with Logan than anyone else. Swallowing back the tears, swallowing down his pride, he slipped from the chair to his knees and bowed his head. "Yes, master," he accepted softly.

Logan's recoil was so violent that his chair tipped. "No!" he exclaimed as he caught his balance. "I don't want to be your master! When we have sex, it's going to be as equals. I'm offering you a job as a research assistant!"

Part of Nathaniel's mind squirreled away the comment about sex for future examination. The rest scrabbled frantically for a suitable reply and finally came up with a highly intelligent, "Huh?"

"I need a research assistant," Logan repeated. "Look, could you sit back down? It's hard to think when you're on your knees in front of me."

"Oh, sorry." Crimson with shame and embarrassment, Nathaniel stood up. "I'm sorry. I didn't-- I thought-- I shouldn't have--"

"It's all right, Nathaniel. I'm the one who should be apologizing," Logan said ruefully. "I certainly screwed that up, didn't I?"

"Just a little." A smile tugged at Nathaniel's lips. He returned to his place at the table and Logan continued.

"I should be doing the research for my next novel already but I can't do that and work on the current one at the same time. I need a research assistant. I have for a long time but I've never found anyone I could work with long-term."

"What would I have to do?" Nathaniel asked, a twinge of excitement beginning to stir inside him. "Just look things up for you?"

"I would give you a topic or question and you would find all the information and condense it to a form that I could use. You would also direct me toward related areas or points of interest that I might want to explore."

"Don't they have agencies that will do that for you? Better than I could," Nathaniel added in disappointment.

Logan shook his head. "I tried an agency. It was too impersonal. They didn't understand what I wanted and either gave me too much or too little. That's why I think you could do it, Thaniel. You understand the way I think, what I'm looking for. I'll pay you what I paid the agency." The number he gave made Nathaniel blink.

"You can set your own hours and have time to work on your high school courses and get your GED. I'll provide a laptop for you and space in the workroom. If you would rather keep your apartment and come here to work every day, that's fine, but I think it would be easier if you lived here. What do you think? Are you interested?"

"What do I think?" Nathaniel asked disbelievingly. He gave a tremulous smile. "I think I accept. If you really want me."

"I do."

tbc