“Welcome home.”

Abraham, the tall, older butler stationed at the enormous, Italian-inspired villa, greeted Ian and Eton as they approached the wooden, double doors at the crest of a stone staircase. He bowed his head to both of them, his hair beginning to gray and thin. He opened the doors, stepping aside to let Ian, Eton, and the guards that firmly held Eton’s arms into the villa.

Eton’s eyes widened as he looked around the open foyer, staring at the sleek tile flooring and winding staircase that led up to the second floor.

“This is a bit… overly extravagant, don’t you think?” he muttered beneath his breath.

Ian frowned as he glanced over his shoulder at Eton. Eton loved a life of luxury. He started out as a stripper scrounging around for every dollar that he could get so that he could eat that day and not be kicked out of his tiny New York apartment. If he could even call that an apartment. When Ian came into the strip club one day and laid his eyes on Eton, that was when everything changed for both of them.

Ian ran a family business of sorts. It wasn’t a construction company or a local restaurant. He did give back to the local community, though. Whether they were politicians, companies, or other mafia groups throughout the city, Ian funneled them the money that they needed for whatever shady operations they carried out. He didn’t care what these people did once the money was wired into their accounts. He just cared about being paid back and maintaining his and Eton’s lifestyle.

However, telling from Eton’s odd behavior since he woke up from his coma, it seemed like things weren’t going to go back to normal for a little while. It made his heart ache because Eton actually woke up. He was back and awake after two long, excruciating years of Ian hoping that he would wake up one day, but their reunion wasn’t what Ian imagined.

He thought that Eton would be happy to see him, to try to throw himself into Ian’s arms after such a horrifying experience. Ian thought that this experience would bring them closer, that the love that they had developed over months would deepen. The opposite happened.

Now, it was like Eton didn’t even want to touch him, spouting nonsense about sin and being a priest. The coma scrambled his brain, and Ian could only hope that his Eton came back to him soon. The last two years without him had been absolute hell. He didn’t think that he could handle being without the love of his life, who actually acted like the love of his life, for much longer.

“You never complained about it before,” Ian told Eton as he led Eton through the foyer and into the connecting living room. A fireplace complemented the dark red and gold accents and furniture that filled the room. He stopped near the fireplace and turned to Eton, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Any of this look familiar?”

Eton glanced around for a moment before shaking his head.

“No,” he said. It was like he hardly tried. “Rich family?”

Ian narrowed his eyes slightly. He couldn’t believe that Eton didn’t remember a single thing about his own life. They had spent so many days and nights here in this villa, making memories in every inch of this place. He glanced down at the red rug under his black boots, remembering a particular night when their bare bodies had twined together in the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace. He missed those times dearly.

“I fund powerful people so that they can achieve their goals,” Ian replied evenly. He told himself to be patient and kind to Eton, who was probably feeling a way that Ian could never understand. He hadn’t been on the border between life and death for two years, even if he felt like he was dying every single day since Eton was shot.

Eton eyed Ian, seeming suspicious of his words.

“I don’t think I even want to know what that actually means,” he said.

Ian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. It had been a long day. He could only hope that tomorrow would be better. Maybe some traces of Eton’s memory could be recovered from some actual sleep.

“Let’s get you settled,” he replied, motioning for Eton to follow him up the stairs. Typically, he would take his hand and lead him or playfully throw Eton over his shoulder, but Eton made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want Ian to touch him for some reason.

The guards stuck close to Eton as they all headed up the staircase to the second floor where the bedrooms and bathrooms were at. Eton didn’t seem like he was going to make a run for the front door, but he still seemed tense as his eyes flickered back and forth.

Ian opened the door to the master bedroom, flicking on the light to cast a golden glow on the king-sized bed covered by black sheets. A wooden armoire and dresser occupied the far wall, while an oval mirror was situated against the wall in front of the bed. Two large windows with black curtains welcomed a soft glow of moonlight from outside. It was Ian’s bedroom, while Eton had his own down the hall, but they spent more time in here together than anywhere else.

“Leave us,” Ian told the guards, wanting to be alone with Eton. If Eton tried to pull some funny business and run, he would just have to tackle him himself.

Eton glanced around almost warily as the guards left the room and shut the door behind them. He turned back toward Ian, his face settling in a firm expression as he stiffened defensively.

“This isn’t my home,” he said firmly.

Ian ignored Eton’s words as he moved closer to him. When Eton pressed his back against the door, Ian stopped a foot in front of him.

“This is your home. Here with me,” he murmured in a soft voice, trying to show Eton that he wasn’t a threat. He wanted to be there for Eton. When Eton was shot, Ian carried guilt around for years because he couldn’t protect the man that he loved. Now, he had another chance to make things right if Eton would let him.

Eton narrowed his eyes at Ian, quietly warning him.

“I would never in a million years marry a man. Don’t you understand how much that defies God and his expectations for us?” Eton nearly spat the words.

Ian didn’t know where this religious talk was coming from. Eton was never religious, and the thought of Eton being some priest made him want to laugh more than anything. It was completely ridiculous, but he knew how confusing amnesia could be. He just had to remind Eton of who he was and who they were together.

“Maybe you don’t remember yourself or us… but I’m going to do everything that I can to remind you,” Ian replied, reaching out to grab Eton’s hand.

Eton jerked his hand away like Ian’s touch burned him. “Don’t,” he growled.

Ian turned to look at the bed and then back at Eton.

“This is where we connected the most. Where we loved each other,” Ian said, not taking a single step back. If he could just show Eton what he meant and show him how they used to connect, maybe he would be reminded of some of his past memories.

“Love is between a man and a woman. Anything else is a sin,” Eton replied, refusing to back down from his stance.

Ian felt his heart ache as he stared at Eton. His usual bright charm and glow were absent from Eton’s eyes and smile. It was like he was staring at a stranger, and that broke his heart more than he was prepared for. When he met Eton, he thought that he would never get his heart broken. He had finally found happiness. Now, everything was slowly crumbling.

“I won’t touch you. Let’s just go to sleep and start fresh tomorrow,” Ian suggested, figuring he should back off for today and try again harder tomorrow. After such a stressful day, they both needed some rest.

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you!” Eton protested, pushing his back up against the door as much as he possibly could. If he pushed any harder, he would send himself through the wood.