Jacy
Carmine had to have everything a certain way. He had to have routines,
schedules and order. It was the only way to keep from having meltdowns. That he
was lonely wasn’t something he could fix, since he couldn’t tolerate the touch
of another.
He’d
been thankful and grateful for his mother’s compassion, if not her
understanding. No one could understand what Jacy went through every day just to
get up each morning and face another eight to twelve hours that might end up
with him curled into a ball, screaming and sobbing.
His
mother had a vague sense of what had happened to him, but the authorities had
been tight-lipped and the media could only speculate. His doctors had been tied
behind HEPA laws, and as Jacy was an adult, there was no telling anyone what
he’d gone through. That was just fine with him, since he relived it every night
when he closed his eyes.
What
he hadn’t expected was for a young, vibrant man to upset his rigid days with
his exuberance, vitality—and attraction. Lonely he might be, but Jacy was in no
condition to accept affection, or—God—sexual advances. But he couldn’t get away
from Michael VanDelling since his mother had hired him to assist Jacy with his
clothing line. Jacy needed the help, but how was he supposed to accept it, not
to mention deal with Michael’s interest in him? Could he even do it?
And
then there was the low burning in his belly whenever Michael was around.
Feelings Jacy thought had been traumatized out of him forever kept trying to
overwhelm him. He was broken, damaged beyond repair, so why would someone as
alive as Michael be interested anyway? Jacy didn’t know and wasn’t sure he
wanted to find out.
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