Chapter 25

A sudden urgency that hadn’t been there before filled Elliot.

“Everyone, please stand up and walk calmly out the classroom. Wait next door until someone comes for you.” He spoke clearly, trying to put as much authority in his voice as possible, hoping the kids would listen.

Miraculously, they did. The two seated next to the door stood and scurried out. As they opened the door, Elliot could see other people outside.

He wasn’t alone anymore. All he needed to do now was to evacuate the rest of the class before Kenny snapped and decided to use the knife.

Piece of cake.

* * * *

Elliot had no idea what time it was when he finally got home. The afternoon had been an endless stream of one meeting after another, with scared kids and angry parents, security and the school counselor. It had been dark outside a long time when he was finally allowed to leave. His predictions about the snow had come true, and he’d trudged through gray slush to the bus stop.

He’d intended to call Mick while he waited for the bus to arrive, only to notice that the battery on his phone was dead. He’d cursed thoughtless kids, the sluice penetrating his shoes making his feet wet and miserable, short-lived cell phone batteries, and the world in general.

Mick would be worried. They had dinner reservations, and he would know something was wrong when Elliot didn’t show up as agreed. Elliot was the punctual one, always on time or making sure to call if he was unable to keep an appointment.

He’d fidgeted the entire time on the bus, eager to get home to his charger. The lady sitting next to him had glared at him with steely gray eyes, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he was to keep still and stop moving around like he had ants in his pants.

But now that he was finally home, he was too tired to even unlock the door. Instead, he leaned his forehead against it, took a deep breath, and muttered, “What a nightmare.”

With sluggish movements, he put his hand in his pocket and rummaged around for the key. As he closed his fist around it, he heard the lock turn from inside. He straightened just as the door flung open.

Elliot couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Mick look that disheveled before. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and the normally immaculate white fabric was wrinkled and dingy-looking. The conservative tie was crooked and loosened, and his latte-colored hair was in wild disarray, as if he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. The crease between his ocean-colored eyes deepened as he took in Elliot’s appearance.

“I was so worried!” He pulled Elliot inside and enveloped him in a tight embrace.

Elliot let his briefcase fall to the floor and threw his arms around Mick. He buried his nose in the crook of Mick’s neck and inhaled the scent of the aftershave still lingering on his lover’s skin. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on his partner.

“I heard what happened. I was in a meeting with Richard when his wife called.”

Ah. Elliot had forgotten Mick’s boss’s kids attended the school.

“I tried calling, but I guess you were too busy to answer.”

Mick rubbed his hands up and down Elliot’s back. Elliot burrowed closer into Mick’s neck, wishing he could stay there forever.

“Let’s get you out of your coat,” Mick coaxed and slid his hands around to the front, starting to unbutton Elliot’s peacoat from the bottom.

Elliot reluctantly straightened so Mick could reach the top buttons. He kicked off his wet shoes as Mick pulled the coat off his shoulders, and then he let himself be led to the bathroom. Mick started the shower, helped Elliot out of the rest of his clothes, and gave him a gentle nudge, ushering him inside.

Elliot obeyed and shivered as hot water sprayed down on his head, following along the lines of his body, doing its best to rinse away the events of the day. Elliot became aware of Mick’s presence before Mick even touched him. Elliot hummed in contentment as Mick wound both arms around his waist. Elliot leaned his head back and rested it on his lover’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“I’m just happy you’re all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hush.”

Mick rubbed his hands all over Elliot’s torso. He caressed the soft skin on Elliot’s stomach, played with the droplets that clung to his black chest hair, and drew swirly patterns around his nipples. Elliot hummed again, letting Mick’s touch-therapy distract his mind from box cutters and screaming parents. Every touch by smooth fingers on his skin chased away the stress of the day.