Malcolm Aggitson was doing what he loved. Helping other down and out men get back on their feet. Some, like his sister, said he was too generous, too compassionate. But Beth didn’t know what Malcolm had gone through years ago. She didn’t know about the homelessness, the drugs, the prostitution. Didn’t know he was gay.
And now he had a problem. He was at capacity, but Lyman Morowski had brought him another homeless man. One look and no way could Malcolm turn him down. The despair in those impossibly huge green eyes was Malcolm’s undoing. He was professional, keeping a polite distance from the residents of his halfway house. But there was no keeping a distance from this man. Especially since he knew him….from a long time ago.
Arie Rosendin was at the end of his rope. The depression and multiple personality disorders had been too much for even the medication…when he could afford it…could handle. He followed orders from the different organizations that bustled him from one place to another without even realizing where he was. That he’d been found downtown, half naked in the winter, gibbering to himself was just par for the course.
He had retreated into his head, just going through the motions, until he started noticing things. Not so much his surroundings as a voice that seemed familiar. He clung to that voice, a bright light in the darkness of his mind. Every part of him knew that voice. There was no splintering, different personalities weighing in with like and dislike, though they all had something to say to the voice.
When Arie realized the voice was drawing him out, he was torn between wanting to retreat and wanting to burst from the cage his mind had built around him. How was he to battle all the others and get to the voice? Did he have the strength to push them aside? Did he have the courage to fight for what Arie wanted instead of what all the others wanted? Could he win and gain the man behind that familiar voice?