by Con Riley
“Aiden.” Now Marco sounded warmly chiding. “Don’t hide from me like this. You think I judge you for needing a moment to regroup?”
Aiden’s nod was a short, sharp reflex.
“Maybe a while ago I might have. Perhaps, during the first weeks we lived together, I would have seen you at a loss for words as a very good thing—a sign that I was winning, that you were finally giving in.” His lips brushed Aiden’s cheek. “But now? Now I wonder how best to give your words back, even if you use them against me.” He shifted and kissed Aiden’s other cheek, pausing as if his lips felt the increasing heat there. “No need to feel embarrassed. Not with me, Aiden. Never with me. I can almost see now why you tried so hard to keep yourself apart from other people.”
Aiden really hoped that wasn’t true.
He hoped he wasn’t that obvious.
His mom’s questions today made him wonder if now he somehow was.
His hands found their way to Marco’s waist. After years of managing his family and keeping shit to himself, why had things begun to slip? The only new things in his life were Marco and his brother’s boyfriend’s too-intense attention. His grip tightened in agitation. Rock bottom could kiss his ass.
“Hey, take it easy.” Marco’s breath huffed out and he shuffled in even closer, his voice low and husky as he spoke into Aiden’s ear. “See how strong you are? So strong that you steal my breath.”
Aiden didn’t feel strong. If he weren’t sitting down already, he was sure his knees would buckle.
Marco’s quiet words made him shiver. “First, I wanted you because of the way you look. I’m not going to lie about that. I find your size and your pretty eyes very attractive.” Marco’s lips curved around Aiden’s earlobe, his words warm puffs against Aiden’s skin, prompting the spread of goose bumps. “But all your strength is reserved for other people, and that too is appealing. Maybe today is a sign that it’s time to give yourself a break. Take a step back, and let me help you.”
“I can’t.”
There. Words. Two of them. Sounding weird, and somewhat scratchy, but real words all the same. He looked down into Marco’s face.
“I have to keep going.”
Stopping wasn’t an option.
“Maybe that’s how it seems from your perspective, Aiden. I would like it if you shared more. Help me understand your situation.”
Aiden dropped his head, resting his forehead on Marco’s shoulder. More words seemed impossible. Where the hell would he even begin?
“Let me go speak with your mother.”
Aiden looked up, and his grip on Marco tightened.
“Let me help you, Aiden. Show me a little trust.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Aiden scanned the pictures of his dad on the walls. Trusting was pretty difficult.
“Maybe you think it’s too soon for that.”
How did Marco know what he was thinking?
“But you’ve trusted me already, tesoro. Don’t you remember? You told me some things about how your father died. You told me that money was an issue, although you didn’t tell me exactly why. You already started to get all this off your chest. Then we were interrupted. Let me buy you some breathing space. Then we’ll go home, and you can tell me the rest.”
Aiden slowly let him go. Some breathing space would be welcome. He had none at the store, and there was precious little in his old apartment—Joel was always there. Yes. Space, and a chance to figure out where things had started going wrong, was exactly what he needed.
The five minutes Marco was gone stretched out for what seemed like forever. Aiden locked away the papers that had caused him so many problems, then pocketed the spare keys. One close call was enough.
Occasionally he heard bursts of Marco’s laughter from the kitchen and his mom’s amused-sounding responses. That was weird to hear here, like a blast from the past. It was weird too, realizing that he’d willingly let Marco intervene on his behalf, and the world had kept on turning.
Marco came back in, holding his food container, his expression carefully neutral as he placed it on the desk. Aiden spied prosciutto-wrapped melon through its clear sides and, for the first time in a long time, felt some real interest in eating.
“It is done. She thinks you have an urgent issue and have to go back to work right away.”
Aiden’s exhale of relief was short, interrupted by Marco’s following words. “She is insistent about reading those financial-aid forms.” He pulled his shoulders back. “I am sorry if I said the wrong thing when she questioned your decisions. The last thing I want is to make things harder for you, but you looked desperate.” He frowned. “I said the first thing that I thought of. Did I make things much worse?”
“No, no. What you said was perfect.”
Marco’s smile was brilliant.
“Really?” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, lashes casting spiky shadows over his tan cheeks. “Good . . . that is good. I had no clue what I’d walked in on.” He stepped closer, his expression serious again. “You looked terrible—so pale, and shaking like a leaf. I felt like a blind man, leading you away from the edge of a cliff. It was pretty scary.”
Aiden sounded grudging. He could hear it in his own voice. “You didn’t have to get involved.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Marco’s expression shifted back to neutral. “I could have said nothing. I could have stayed at home today, instead of making lunch as an excuse to see you. I could have danced all night yesterday with Jack. At least that way I might have gotten some sleep last night.”
What could Aiden say to that? Marco was right. He sure was no fun to be with. He turned around and stared out the window. The grass outside already looked too long. He still had to fix that stupid fucking mower.
Another thing to deal with.
Another thing on his list.
It was never-ending.
Being with someone else sure seemed like a better option for his housemate. If Marco ended up choosing to spend time with Jack, Aiden really wouldn’t blame him.
Marco sounded miserable. “Aiden. Tesoro mio. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I just meant that things could be easier for you if you’d let me in. You don’t have to handle all this—whatever this is—on your own, not if you let yourself really be with me.”
Aiden scrubbed two-handed at his face. This was where he got lost. If he told Marco every thing he’d done, every plan he’d made in desperate panic and then persisted with for so long, he’d sound completely crazy.
Marco’s arms slipped around him from behind, then tugged up the front of his shirt. His hands smoothed their way to where Aiden felt heartburn begin to smolder, then stroked back down again. Skin on skin, palms pressed to Aiden’s belly, Marco leaned against him.
Aiden closed his eyes, listening when Marco told him that he had him. When he said it again, his voice an accented, warm rumble, Aiden let himself lean back.
They came to an agreement: Aiden would do his best to relax for the afternoon, and Marco wouldn’t bug him with his usual endless questions. That accord lasted for nearly a whole hour. They sat in the truck, in a near-empty parking lot between his mom’s place and Peter’s home. Aiden’s phone ringing made him pull over, but by the time he’d found somewhere to stop, the caller—Theo—had hung up. Aiden’s stomach rumbling loudly had prompted Marco to encourage him to eat right away, feeding him bites of lunch, following the passage of food from his fingers to Aiden’s lips with careful attention.
He kept his voice low and undemanding as he described what he had planned for their dinner later. Simple words and lists of ingredients filled the inside of the cab, leaving no room for worry.
Marco made selections from the container he’d brought from home and leaned close as Aiden opened his mouth. He’d tried to take the box himself, but Marco had resisted.
“Let me, Aiden. I’m enjoying this.” His eyes had been focused on Aiden’s lips, his own opening a little each time Aiden accepted a mouthful. He cau
ght melon juice as it ran down Aiden’s chin, then slowly licked his fingers. Aiden found it hard to swallow. Once he managed to do so, he pulled Marco as close as he could get him, sharing sweet-and-salty kisses between their final bites.
It was easy, sitting there, pretending nothing difficult had happened.
For a few precious minutes, Aiden had almost perfect peace of mind. Marco kissed him again, then sat back and chatted, as if they could make out whenever they wanted. That still seemed unreal, but Aiden was pretty sure he liked it.
He tried to hang on to that feeling when Theo’s voicemail arrived, but his message wiped Aiden’s peace away, replacing it with tension.
“What is it? Is everything okay?”
Aiden held Marco’s gaze as he listened to Theo’s calm and concerned message. Theo explained that he’d reviewed Aiden’s cash-register situation and had some thoughts about Levi’s theft that he wanted to talk over. Aiden briefly spelled that out to Marco, then put the truck in gear, wincing as its old engine stalled and then labored. He didn’t mention that Theo had quietly added that he had other financial concerns too. Aiden could guess what those were.
“Why don’t you call him back now? Maybe he and Morgan can come to dinner.”
Aiden drove away instead, leaving a dark cloud of fumes behind them like the one he pictured above his head. No way did he want Theo discussing his finances at the dinner table. Talk about a downer. He could only imagine that if Theo had reviewed all of his figures, not just those relating to his missing cash, he’d know Aiden was fighting financial forest fires.
Discussing it was pointless.
Admitting that his books wouldn’t ever balance, because he supported his whole family, would require an explanation of shit that really should stay private. If he detailed how he’d come to pay for his mom’s car and living expenses, and his brother’s share of their apartment rent, as well as funding him through high school and college, he’d have to tell Theo why. That might make its way back to Evan.
He’d rather suffer any consequence than let Evan hear the worst about their adoptive father. Evan had paid his dues already. He’d survived an awful childhood that Aiden first learned of after his vocal nightmares. Later, as Evan had settled in his new home, he’d shared his very worst times, staring out the window at the rope swing in the garden instead of looking at Aiden. His words had seeped out at first, like water from a slowly melting ice cube, before finally spilling much faster, flooding the room with memories no kid should have to live with. Aiden had wished so hard he could soak them up so Evan didn’t have to. And to top it all off, Evan had been the one to find their adoptive father’s body after he shot himself.
No.
Aiden would rather look like an ignorant fool when it came to business than ever let Evan feel let down again.
Theo could go ahead and think that he was running his store into the ground. He’d rather look inept than let Evan suffer any further. He couldn’t even think about his mom. If she knew how gambling had fucked up all their futures, it might do worse than set her back.
People took their own lives for much less.
Yeah, he’d rather people think he was incompetent, even though that burned his pride.
He’d worked so hard for so long.
So hard.
He had created a successful business, one most people would be proud of. But it struggled to support three adults, two of whom hadn’t adjusted their lifestyles.
“Shall I call Theo back now, Aiden? We could all play poker after dinner.”
Aiden pulled into their driveway, then stopped the engine and closed his eyes. “Fuck, no.”
“No?” Marco sounded surprised.
“He just wants to talk about Levi,” Aiden lied. “I’ll call him back in a minute.” Aiden got out of the truck quickly and headed for the house. Paul stood up from behind his pile of lumber, scaring Aiden half to death. His greeting and his casual questions only increased Aiden’s tension.
“Howdy, boys. I didn’t expect to see you. Business must be good with the amount of time you two take off.” His tone was gently teasing, and he sorted through his toolbox, sliding nails into his pocket as he got ready to start his afternoon’s work. Paul didn’t even look up, and that should have been a signal that his teasing wasn’t serious.
Aiden bristled all the same.
“Seems like I picked the wrong occupation,” Paul continued. “All these years of getting splinters and putting up shingles in the pouring rain . . . .” He shook his head. “I could have owned a clothing store and taken three-hour lunches.”
Marco put his arm around Aiden, urging him to continue toward the door. Aiden shrugged him off and dug his heels in, feeling his temper spiking.
“Yup.” Paul picked up his hammer, slipping it into its place on his tool belt. “Sure must be nice to leave other fellas to do the real work for you, while you sunbathe in your backyard.” He turned, chuckling, as Aiden’s hands tightened into fists. “All that money rolling in, with zero effort from you . . . .” His words faded as he took in Aiden’s stance.
“Come on inside, tesoro. Let’s go talk in the kitchen.” This time, Marco shoved, and he put some power behind it. Aiden lurched forward. He passed Paul, ignoring his outstretched hand and his puzzled-sounding, “Son?” He headed for the front door with Marco right behind him.
The moment the door closed, Marco started hissing questions. “What was that about? I can’t believe you were going to hit him.”
“I wasn’t going to hit him! What the hell makes you say that?” He followed Marco to the kitchen and watched him brace himself against the sink.
“Look at your hands.”
Aiden did, then slowly uncurled the tight fists he’d made. His breath came out in a quick huff.
“I wasn’t . . . I wouldn’t.” Jesus, he so nearly had. Where the hell had that anger come from? “I’m going to get changed.”
“No, don’t you walk away now. You have to tell me what is going on in your head.”
Aiden was already halfway down the hall. He ignored Marco as he pulled off his work shirt, still damp with drops of melon juice, and hauled on an old T-shirt.
“Aiden, stop now. What has made you this uptight? You were fine. You were perfetto. I thought we had finally made some progress. Tell me, what has brought this on?”
Aiden held his hand up, stopping Marco’s advance across the room. He pretended not to notice the way his hand shook again.
“Look at you. What has put you in this temper? Tell me, and let me help you.” Marco followed him as he walked back through Peter’s house, stopping when Aiden paused by the door to the backyard.
“I just . . . I just need to take a minute.”
Marco nodded, looking confused, his skin ashen beneath his tan. He stepped back as Aiden walked out, giving him some space.
Aiden crossed the backyard to where Paul worked in the far corner, only nodding when he asked if Aiden was okay. Soon the steady sound of his borrowed hammer striking nails was all that filled his head.
Paul had only been kidding. Aiden knew that was the truth. He didn’t see Aiden as lazy, but his words allowed a seed of doubt to quickly take root: perhaps he could try harder. Maybe there was a business avenue he could explore to make up for his recent losses. He added that doubt to the words that thumped inside his head with each blow from the hammer.
Joel already judged him, with all his stories about rock bottom.
Now, after reviewing his accounts, Theo must think he was stupid.
That meant Morgan must think the same thing, and he was friends with Joel.
His mom had found reason to doubt him too.
She’d likely tell Evan.
Jesus.
What a mess.
None of these issues would have come up if he’d paid more attention lately. He’d been distracted and under pressure because of Levi’s theft. Levi—fucking Levi—was the root of all his problems. He swung the hammer harder, pounding nail
s so violently that sweat ran in his eyes, blurring his vision at the edges. Paul’s hand on his shoulder, tugging, pulling, yanking, finally made him quit midstroke.
He turned, blinking his vision clear, as two men walked across the backyard, heading in their direction. Marco’s face came into focus, his expression tight with worry. Aiden’s gaze shifted to the figure walking beside him, and he lurched forward, his arm still raised, when he saw that it was Levi.
Joel was wrong, Aiden thought.
Rock bottom was real easy to recognize when a hammer helped you hit it.
Chapter Eleven
Later, Paul and Levi dealt with the cops. Aiden watched them from the far end of the backyard, where tools still lay scattered on the ground around him. He’d listened, heart furiously pounding once again, as Levi denied that there had been a problem. He’d looked the cops right in the face as he lied, and he made his fiction sound convincing.
Aiden’s nosy neighbor had been mistaken, Levi said. She must have imagined a disturbance, because no one here had argued. He guessed she must have dreamed it.
Someone sure was dreaming, and Aiden thought it might be him.
This had to be a nightmare, because although he’d dropped the hammer the moment after he saw Levi’s face, he had still lunged toward him.
What the hell had he intended? The thought of hurting anyone was so not Aiden’s style. Imagining lashing out at Levi, who was even smaller than his brother, made his stomach ache. There’s no way he would have done that.
His hand rose to his mouth, and he turned to face the half-built fence. He’d felt sick with himself the moment Paul’s yelling had finally registered. But how long had he struggled to escape the older man’s rough-palmed grip?
He’d struggled hard all right, but Paul had hung on tight—so tight that now Aiden’s wrist was tender. The following moments seemed a dreamlike blur. Paul’s grip had slipped, and Aiden’s forward momentum had sent him staggering in Levi’s direction. Paul’s yelling had increased and had gotten really frantic.
Then Marco had stepped in Levi’s way and stopped Aiden in his tracks.
