Restaurant owner Sinclair Penn decides to befriend a homeless young man down on his luck and gives him a second chance at life. He never planned to fall in love with someone so young, but fall he did, and hard, for eighteen-year-old Ian Mills, who reminds Sinclair of himself at that age. Exactly twelve years earlier, wealthy mogul Conrad Banks did the same thing for him and all Conrad ever asked was that he pay it forward.
The world was a cold and dark place, and Ian Mills didn’t think he would live to see nineteen at the rate things are going. Not only did his foster parents kick him out of their house with only the clothes on his back, but they cut off all ties with him, leaving him alone and destitute on the streets of Portland. They even took back his cell phone so he had no way to contact anyone for help. When his needed insulin got desperately low, he had no idea where to get a refill.
Then, right before Thanksgiving, an angel of mercy saves him from dying when he passes out in the street after trying to find somewhere to spend the night. When he wakes up safe and sound in a hospital room, Ian promises to repay Sinclair.
Ian was awakened by the sound of something beeping. His mouth was so dry it felt like the Sahara Desert. It took a few seconds to get his bearings. He was in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV, and a machine registering his blood pressure, pulse and oxygen level. He had been hospitalized several times before in his youth until he got his Type 1 diabetes under control. He had run out of insulin. No doubt it was the reason he’d been hospitalized this time. Insulin cost money, and he’d been homeless so long he didn’t know if he was still on Medicaid or not. He didn’t have a permanent address or cell phone to call and find out.
Ian turned his head to the right. A guy he didn’t know slept in a chair. He had great hair, black with sprinklings of gray at the temples. It made him look distinguished. The man’s face was hairless. The watch on his arm looked expensive. It went well with the tailored black suit, which was wrinkling as he slumbered.
Ian used the remote to lift the bed so he could get a better look at him. Ian gulped. The guy was so handsome he looked like he should be in the movies. He had clean, manicured fingernails, no wedding band and long fingers.
“Oh, you’re awake,” a very deep voice asked.
Ian looked back in the direction of the sleeping guy who was now fully awake and smiling at him.
Two things happened. One, Ian’s heart skipped a beat and two, he’d gotten a boner. Poor, homeless and gay. The odds were stacked against him. Ian had no idea who this guy was, but he had a kind smile. “Yes, and you are?”
The door opened before the man could answer. “Hello Ian. My name is Doctor Brown. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Where am I?” Ian asked.
“You’re at OHSU Hospital. Apparently, you passed out on the street and someone called the ambulance.”
“That would be me,” the man Ian didn’t know said.
Ian liked his voice, and he was much younger than Ian thought. Probably late twenties or early to mid-thirties. Ian took a real good look at him. Besides that, deep voice and fantastic hair, the man had fathomless blue eyes and a strong chin.
The man raised an eyebrow when he noticed Ian checking him out. He blushed.
Ian had fantastic gaydar.
“My name is Sinclair Penn. I own the Penn Restaurants and I saw you pass out through my office window. I was the one who called the ambulance.”
Ian recognized the name of the restaurant. “Thank you.” Ian wondered why the guy even bothered.
“How long have you been without your insulin?” Dr. Brown asked.
“A couple of weeks,” Ian answered.
Both older men frowned at him.
“Why?” Dr. Brown asked.
“No job, no money,” Ian answered.
“Your records show that you’re on Medicaid. And you've been hospitalized a few times for the same issue.”
“Is my case still active?” Ian asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Brown answered. “Make sure you call the number on the back of the card to update them on your living conditions.” He paused. “I’ve ordered a supply of insulin, along with needles, alcohol wipes, and a red hazardous box to put your used needles in. You can pick it all up at the hospital drugstore before you leave. We’ve already given you two of your three injections. Make sure you take the last one before you go to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” Ian replied.
“You’re also a bit underweight as well. I’ve prescribed a multivitamin. You need to try to eat at least three meals a day and have two small snacks to manage your sugar levels,” Dr. Brown told him.
“Okay, but it’s kind of hard to do when you’re homeless,” Ian said, trying not to sound embarrassed.
The doctor looked at Sinclair Penn.
Sinclair nodded.
“Why are you homeless?” the doctor asked.
“I turned eighteen and my foster parents kicked me out as soon as the checks they received stopped.”
“Oh,” Dr. Brown said.
“The same thing happened to me,” Sinclair uttered.
Ian looked over at the man again. Apparently, something had gone right in his life after that. That suit he wore looked tailored, not off the rack.
“There are some wonderful soup kitchens around town where you can get food. You have to take care of yourself. You’re young. Why don’t you have a job?”
“It’s hard to get one without a permanent address. I tried getting a job in fast food, but I couldn’t keep the uniform clean or myself without a place to live.”
“You can come live with me,” Sinclair said.
