The Assistant by John Tristan

Author:John Tristan [Tristan, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, Japanese-American, trans, interracial, BDSM, D/s, power play, slow burn, personal assistant, disability/ chronic illness, depression, age gap
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

CHANGES

A part of Nick, he slowly realized, hadn’t expected things to last, at least not more than a week.

A week had always been the outer limits of his relationships, loosely defined. Either they would shade into friendship, like with Alex, or vanish into thin air, like with Kirby, or the dozen others who’d left their—literal and figurative—marks on him. Umber would get tired of him. Maybe Nick would lose his job along with whatever had burned between them. He would have accepted that. He’d judged it worth the risk.

When the week came and went and Umber kept calling him back to his apartment—when another week followed, and another, and he’d been bent over desk, leather sofa, kitchen island—when Umber showed no sign at all of tiring of Nick’s company…something loosened in him. Some knot of tension in his heart that had been part of him for years relaxed, just a little, and he stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Umber was at home today; he’d judged his energy too low to head out to the shop, so Nick was manning it. Strictly, it wasn’t a PA duty, but Nick had fallen into it easily enough on those days when Umber required it. It wasn’t easy, as it kept him busy when Umber needed silence and solitude to manage his pain. “If all goes well,” Umber had said on the phone that morning, “I may still be able to receive your visit tonight.”

Nick hoped, very much, that all would go well.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out. An e-mail had come in from Umber—the subject line read “Nick.” His heart leapt into his throat.

Before you come to me, I would like you to stop at the grocery store on Whyte Avenue and pick up ingredients for a meal that you can prepare, using the card I gave you. I want you to cook for us tonight, and I’d like to be surprised.

Nick’s heart remained lodged in his throat, now half with nerves rather than with anticipation. He had the feeling this was, somehow, a test—maybe not one he could fail, per se, but a test nonetheless. A meal you can prepare… There was a hell of a backhanded insult hidden in that. Nick snorted a laugh. Was Umber expecting cup ramen and cut-up hot dogs? Well, he could damn well do better than that.

Which was probably what he intended in the first place. Umber was a sneaky bastard, sometimes, but it was one of the things Nick liked about him so much. One of the things that made him so damn appealing to surrender to.

He turned off the lights and pulled down the shutters, then let himself out. The late autumn light was dimming already, the sky a kind of velvety gray with the first touches of sunset pinking its edges. He smelled something like snow behind the scents of the city, the coming of winter. He’d never seen Westerley in the snow before. He was looking forward to it.

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