The Promise of Hope Shelter

Chapter 1 His shoulders sagged and his head fell forward until his forehead rested on his folded arms. The nearly ancient wooden desk creaked under the added weight, and a vision of himself crashing to the floor flashed through his mind. Any other day he would have pulled himself up and moved away from the rickety piece, but today was definitely not any other day. At least the cold sweats had finally ended, and if he were to open his eyes, he was fairly confident he wouldn’t feel like retching again. Still, knowing the trash can was just under the desk comforted him. How the hell had this happened? The small, portable fan on his desk barely managed to stir up more than a warm breeze as it oscillated, prickling the short hairs on his head. He rubbed his hand back and forth over his skull, letting the weird tickling sensation relax him. It usually took a few days for him to get used to a new haircut, but he was glad he had gone shorter than normal today. Though it certainly didn’t hide his ears, which he always felt stuck out a little too far, the shorter cut kept him cooler. He hid in the darkness behind his closed eyelids, even as he knew wallowing in his misery would never solve anything. He tried to focus on his breathing and did his best to ignore the racing thoughts tearing through his brain. “Jacob? You in there?” Shit. So much for being alone. Maybe if I stay completely still… “Jacob?” A rap on the door told him the voice’s owner wasn’t going away. He sighed and dragged himself up, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in through the bare window. He really needed to hang curtains or blinds soon. “Yeah. I’m here,” he called, attempting to sound chipper. “It’s not locked. Come on in.” The newly stained door opened into the office and Peter stepped inside. “Dude, what’s going on with you?” His pale blue eyes widened as he stared at Jacob. “f**k, you look like shit.” “Language, Peter.” The kid rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. “Was there something you needed? Or were you just trying to get out of kitchen duty again?” Peter blanched and gave an exaggerated shudder. “I don’t see why I should have to work in the kitchen. It’s disgusting.” Jacob calmly listened to the daily reasons why Peter felt he shouldn’t have to help in the kitchen until the teen stopped for a breath. “Are you done?” Peter shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess,” he answered pitifully. Jacob bit back another sigh. “You have to work a shift in the kitchen just like everyone else. No exceptions.” Peter huffed but stayed silent. “Was there something else you needed?” Jacob inquired, fighting the desire to begin wallowing again. Peter’s eyes sparked, showing he clearly remembered his original errand. “There’s a guy downstairs. A really, really hot guy, by the way.” He paused for dramatic effect, but getting no reaction from Jacob, he continued. “He said he’s here to meet with you about…crap, what was it again?” Jacob tried to keep his patience. Any other day he would have thought Peter’s forgetfulness sweet, but again, this was not any other day. This was the day he’d been hit with a tidal wave of concern. Hmm, no, “concern” didn’t fit the current circumstance. Dread? Shock. Yes, definitely shock. He shook his head. “Did he give you a name?” Peter’s mouth twisted as he tilted his head to the side, his platinum blond hair falling over his forehead. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment until Jacob cleared his throat. “Sorry. If he did, I just don’t remember.” “Okay. Well, why don’t I run down and meet him and you get back to the kitchen.” He got up, rounded his desk, and clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Fine. I’ll go help, but I’m telling you, this dude is really, really hot.” Jacob tried not to roll his own eyes. Peter thought almost every man he met was “really, really hot,” and Jacob tried to ignore the boy, what with all the craziness going on in his head. He followed Peter into the hallway and down the battered old stairs to the first floor. When Peter stopped abruptly, Jacob chuckled to himself and grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him toward the kitchen. “Go!” he ordered. Peter shuffled off to his assignment before turning toward the entryway, where a man in a well-worn black leather jacket and faded jeans stood watching. Jacob couldn’t have stopped the sharp intake of breath if he had tried. For once, Peter had been right. This man was drop-dead gorgeous and Jacob openly stared, his feet rooted to the floor. He swallowed hard and temporarily forgot his own name. The stranger with skin the color of light caramel had pools of dark chocolate silk for eyes, framed by long, full, black lashes. Mesmerized, Jacob couldn’t look away. How could anyone’s eyes be that beautiful? “Are you Jacob Baumgardner?” the stranger asked, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind his ear with his finger. Jacob’s knees actually wobbled. Had anyone’s voice had that effect on him? Wait, he had asked something, hadn’t he? f**k. He was acting as starry-eyed as Peter. Jacob shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to tear away his gaze. Only then did his brain begin working again. “Hi,” he choked out. Smooth. He cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” The man’s lips twitched as if trying to keep from smiling. “I asked if you were Jacob Baumgardner.” “Oh.” Silence fell between them until Jacob realized he still hadn’t answered. God, he was like a high school boy with his first crush. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. Yes, I’m Jacob,” he managed to say in what he hoped was something comparable to the English language as he offered the man his hand. The stranger’s large hand enveloped his and shook, sending jolts of electricity dancing down Jacob’s spine. Holy s**t. “I’m Luka Smith.” He let go of Jacob’s hand. Jacob raised an eyebrow. Was he supposed to know him? “Thurston Hyatt sent me.” Luka c****d his head. “Said he told you I was coming?” A vague recollection of Thurston calling yesterday niggled at Jacob’s memory. Thurston sat on the Board of Directors and called a lot. A lot. So often that Jacob often failed to fully listen to Thurston when he spoke. To be fair, the man was a bit of a windbag and most of what he said was…well, stupid. But Thurston meant well and he had been a friend of Jacob’s grandparents. He was also the president of the largest bank in Nixon City, so Jacob had put up with him. “Right…he did mention sending someone over to…to….” He looked around for an answer and finally gave up. He turned to Luka and ran his hands over his head, trying to settle his nerves. “Look, I’m sorry.” “Long day, right?” Luka gifted him with a smile, and Jacob’s d**k jumped to attention. “It’s okay. I’m kind of a jack-of-all-trades and after I did some handyman work at the bank, he mentioned you might be needing help here.” Luka scanned the living room that had clearly seen better days. “Looks like he was right, huh?” Jacob couldn’t help but agree. This building still needed a lot of work, but funds were incredibly tight. “It’s been a slow process to get this place up and running. You’re right, though, we need a lot of work done. We need to pass an inspection in just under sixty days and, to be honest, money is scarce.” “Mr. Hyatt mentioned that. Let me take a look around and see what needs to be done. Do you have a list of things that need to be repaired to pass this inspection?” For the first time since receiving the crushing news earlier in the day, Jacob felt something like hope blooming in his chest. Something about this man buoyed his spirit. “Yes, in my office upstairs—second floor. Follow me.” Jacob gestured toward the stairs. A clang rang out from the kitchen, then a string of curse words. “Peter,” he warned, his voice stern. “Sorry,” Peter called, followed by an exaggerated sigh. “Everything okay in there?” “Yes, just dropped the big bowl of salad.” “Yeah, he thought we wanted a tossed salad!” Jimmy said from the kitchen. Jacob smiled, glad to hear the kid joking. Jimmy had been a mess when he’d arrived at The Promise of Hope Shelter a few weeks ago. It was good to see he’d progressed. “Just clean it up and get things ready for dinner,” Jacob said and swiveled his head toward Luka. “Lead the way,” Luka said with a smile that sent a shiver down Jacob’s spine. When they reached the second floor, he led Luka to his office and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the two blue-and-green plaid upholstered chairs, while he sat behind his desk and riffled through a stack of papers, files, and folders in a tray. “I know it’s here somewhere,” he muttered. It was a pink piece of paper, wasn’t it? Maybe yellow…no, definitely pink. He laughed when he finally found what he was looking for—and it was blue. Luka’s brow creased as he watched, but he didn’t ask questions. Jacob handed the list to Luka. “As you can see, there are quite a few things that have to be fixed.” “Mmm-hmm.” Luka perused the list. “I know some of these are going to be pretty costly, but I thought if we could find a way to get things done over time—and I could make payments—it could be manageable.” Luka looked up from the document and held Jacob’s gaze for a moment, sending a thrill through him. He could get lost in those eyes. “So, what exactly is this place?” Luka asked, breaking the moment. Jacob beamed. He loved talking about The Promise of Hope Shelter. It was his passion. Unfortunately, it was almost dinner and he didn’t have a lot of time to go into the whole story. “Short version, okay?” Luka nodded. “I inherited the building when my grandparents passed away about two years ago. This year I turned it into a shelter for gay homeless youth, ages thirteen through eighteen. I created a nonprofit organization and put a board together. We knew the building needed work, but we had no idea how much until we didn’t pass the first inspection. We have less than sixty days to get it up to code.” And we’re almost broke. Luka’s smile stretched across his face. “That’s wonderful. How many live here now?” “Just three teens, but once we’re up and running full time, we’ll have the capacity for thirty.” “Impressive.” Luka dipped his head to review the paper again. “Listen, do you mind if I take this home and do some estimates? I can come back tomorrow when I get off work at three o’clock.” “Sure, that sounds great. Where do you work?” “About four days a week I work at Nixon City Hardware on Main Street.” Jacob nodded. He knew the place well, having made many, many trips there over the last few months for parts and various tools. It was curious he had never seen Luka; he would’ve definitely remembered him if he had. “I can see the wheels spinning,” Luka said with a chuckle. “I just started about two weeks ago. I’m new in town.” “Where did you move from?” “Up north.” Okay. The man didn’t like to talk about himself. Noted. They discussed a few more items on the list before Jacob ushered Luka out the door, trying not to notice the way his well-worn jeans hugged the curve of his muscular ass. The sound of shattering glass cut through his haze of lust. He breathed deeply, telling himself it would all be okay. “Guys, is someone sweeping up the glass?” * * * * Several hours later, once Jacob had made sure the boys were in their rooms, he locked up the place and made his way to his room on the third floor. He was exhausted and emotions were pinging around in his body like one of those old-fashioned arcade games. He entered the attached bathroom and stripped, letting his clothes fall to the floor in a heap. Jacob started the shower and let the water run for a minute to warm up. He looked in the mirror and chuckled. His reddish-blond hair only made his pale skin stand out more, and the smattering of light freckles across his nose made him look like Howdy Doody. He smiled and wondered if any of the teens would even know who Howdy Doody was if he asked them. Jacob was only twenty-six, and most of his friends had probably never heard of the character, either. The only reason he knew was because his grandfather’d had a Howdy Doody collection. Thank God Jacob had green eyes, instead of the blue like the puppet, or his grandfather probably would have nicknamed him “Howdy” or something along that line. He smiled at the memories of his grandfather. Losing his grandparents had been hard, but he hoped he was doing something to honor them. He wanted to live his life in a way that would make them proud. When he’d received that horrible phone call earlier today, that was the first thing he’d thought—letting down his grandparents. He still wasn’t sure how to handle the situation or if he could even come up with twenty-five thousand dollars. Hopefully he would sleep well and things would be clearer in the morning.