by Con Riley
“Your mamma lives in a big house, Aiden. Why are you paying rent on Evan’s apartment? Surely his living at home would save you a substantial amount of money? And your mother’s car is close to brand new, while your own truck is—” He gestured toward the kitchen garbage can.
Aiden couldn’t keep in his chuckle. In fact, once he started laughing, he found it hard to stop. It was bizarrely freeing to get all this stuff out in the open. Marco would either stay with him or he wouldn’t. It was now out of his hands. His head bowed as he wrestled with latent hysteria, but he couldn’t make his shaking shoulders quit.
“I’m not sure this is a laughing matter.”
Aiden tried harder to get a grip.
“Tell me how come your mother lives in that huge house while you live like a pauper.” Marco’s anger was obvious, although he quickly reined it in.
“There’s nothing wrong with the way I live.” Aiden thought he was doing okay. He’d managed to find a way to keep them all financially afloat. So what if that meant there was little left over for luxuries? “I’m a man of simple pleasures.”
“You have no pleasures, Aiden,” Marco fired back. “Do you even have any hobbies? Things you like to do for yourself? How come Evan gets to spend more time at college? He has a degree now. He should be supporting himself and helping out with your mamma.”
“Evan’s not your problem.”
“Oh, I think he is now.” Marco pushed his chair out. “I find it hard to respect a man capable of working who instead takes from other people. That’s how I was when I was a kid, Aiden. A kid! How old is your brother?”
“Twenty-two.”
“And you willingly pay for him to live with the boyfriend you hate? That is a very strange form of masochism.” He got up and paced the kitchen. “I’m not sure that I can stand by and say nothing the next time I see him. Or to your mamma. How can she justify staying in that big house on her own? Why hasn’t she sold it and moved somewhere smaller?”
“No. You can’t say a word to them about this.”
Just like down at the pond, Marco shot out a one-word verbal explosion, his arms flying up in a gesture of pure frustration. “Why?”
Aiden shook his head.
Marco came back to the table and yanked it out of his way one-handed, spilling more coffee. He knelt at Aiden’s feet, shoving his way between his legs. Aiden couldn’t avoid him when he grasped each side of his face. This time Marco’s “Why?” sounded puzzled rather than angry. “Why do you let them take, take, take? Ever since I have known you, you have seemed like Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders. I thought I had guessed why. I thought you were lonely—trapped still in shock after losing your father in such an awful way. But this—” He shook his head. “—this isn’t fair to you.”
He said fair, as if Aiden should expect it from life. Fair didn’t factor into it. Focus, instead—single-minded determination to protect his family—was how he held things together.
“Tell me, how long have you been juggling too little money to support too many people?”
“Five years.”
“Aiden! This is ridiculous.” His hands dropped to Aiden’s knees. “I’m disappointed.”
“I did the best I could.” He looked up at the ceiling. Marco judging him was hard, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t thought about himself. Ridiculous and disappointing weren’t as bad as some of the ways he’d described himself when he’d messed up bill-payment timings.
“I cannot believe you.”
Aiden shook his head, then puffed a huge breath out, still studying the ceiling.
“Look at me, tesoro.”
That word made him look down.
“I cannot believe that you think I’m criticizing you. I don’t understand the ‘why,’ but I understand the ‘how’ completely. You faced a difficult situation, and look what you created.” He glanced at Aiden’s laptop. “How many men would have made a business out of nothing? And for what? There has been no payback for you, no recognition for how hard you must have had to work. I’ve never even heard Evan tell you ‘Thank you,’ and your mamma seems oblivious to the real cost of her lifestyle. How did you even manage to start the business in the first place?”
“Dad set up savings for us.” It was the only cash David Daly had left largely untouched. “I used that and maxed out my credit cards.” That had been Aiden’s biggest gamble, and gambling made him sick.
“I still need to understand why, and you are going to tell me.”
Aiden nodded at that order. He’d started, so he would finish, even if it killed him. He never thought he’d get this far. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he snapped it shut again.
Marco asked simple questions, and they helped Aiden get started.
“Why did your father leave you all with nothing? What happened to his money? After the way you’ve described him, I know he must have had some.”
“He . . . . Uh. He lost it.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“He made bad investments?”
“Not exactly.”
Marco’s hands gripped Aiden’s knees again. “You know I have a vivid imagination, don’t you? Unless you tell me, I’ll only make up my own stories.” He reached up, cupping Aiden’s cheek. “Nothing now can surprise me, and I think you will feel better when you tell me.”
Words wedged in Aiden’s chest. When Marco pressed his palm to where Aiden’s own hand so often rested, they finally started to come out.
“Poker.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Poker was his main thing. At least that’s what it looks like from his computer bookmarks.” He stared over Marco’s head, his gaze following the slightly warped line of the old wooden kitchen counter. Paul had told him all about fixing that up with Peter, a task they’d shared using skills Paul had taught his son in childhood. Aiden looked away. “He didn’t teach me how to fix stuff up like some dads. He taught me how to play poker. I think I was a disappointment. Cards really aren’t my thing.” He’d done his best to see the point, but his lack of intrinsic motivation had frustrated his father.
He cleared his throat, still looking over Marco’s head. “When Evan came to live with us, poker was the very first thing Dad taught him. I didn’t know Dad played outside the house.” He’d had no idea that his dad played poker outside of their attic room where he kept a card table. “Apart from on vacation, that is.”
In hindsight, all those family meetings to decide where they would go had been pointless. “I know my way around Vegas pretty well because we went there so often. Then once, Dad told us we were going on a Mississippi riverboat vacation for a change.” He snorted, looking down at Marco’s puzzled expression.
“He took you on a cruise? That doesn’t sound too awful.”
Aiden pulled Marco up. Marco hesitated for a moment before ignoring his chair and settling instead on Aiden’s lap, one arm wrapped around his shoulder. His warmth made Aiden pull him closer.
“Turned out that gambling’s only legal down there if a boat isn’t moving. All the riverboat casinos kind of looked like floating buildings moored to the dock. We spent a whole week in one spot.”
He took in the way Marco’s brow furrowed before he spoke. “He was gambling here in Seattle during the rest of the year?”
“He must have. I think he gambled every chance he got. He traveled extensively doing audits, so he had plenty of opportunities. Too many. But I think the thing that—” Aiden stopped himself before he blurted, “killed him.” Gambling hadn’t killed his dad. He’d chosen to put a bullet in his head. He’d chosen that rather than facing the mess he’d made for his family.
“The thing that what, Aiden?” Marco asked.
“The thing that lost him the most money was the gambling he did online. He didn’t have to go anywhere special to do that. He didn’t even have to leave the study. But it didn’t matter how much he played; the websites all eventually beat him.”
&nb
sp; Marco’s hand slipped to his nape, its grip comfortable and familiar, calming him down when thinking about the weeks after his father’s death made him want to lose his temper. He’d waded through credit-card statements documenting payments that had grown increasingly larger. When he compared those amounts to the bills he now covered for his mother, his fists clenched. He took a breath when Marco squeezed his nape again.
“I think the online stuff was cumulative. He played on so many sites. Maybe he saw their small stakes as no big deal. But I added up all his payments to them, and some huge cash advances on his credit cards from when he was out of state, and there was no way he could have covered the repayments from his income.”
“So—” Marco frowned. “—he started to use his savings. How come your mamma didn’t notice?”
“He didn’t involve her in anything financial.” Aiden had grown up thinking it was normal to have a mom who stayed home and let her husband run the show. He’d had moments since then when he’d blamed his mom for letting it happen to them. That had left him feeling sick. His head hung. Blaming other people had gotten him absolutely nowhere. “She’d suffered enough. I couldn’t tell her.” He shrugged.
“And Evan? Why have you kept this from your brother?”
“He worshipped Dad.” That came out as a whisper. “You don’t know where Evan came from.” He glanced up, holding Marco’s gaze with something close to desperation. “Don’t ask, because I can’t tell you details. Even his adoption files were closed for his protection. He says that us being a happy family was the thing that saved him. There was no way I was going to shatter his illusions, not after he was the one who found Dad.” That had been his fault too. Aiden’s face creased, crumpling into misery, free for the first time in forever to openly express his guilt and remorse.
“I should have been there. I might have stopped it from happening. At least I should have saved Evan from having to see—” A stark sound ripped out of his chest, surprising him into silence. Marco took up where he left off.
“You blame yourself, and so you see your family as your responsibility? That is unreasonable even for someone as stubborn as you. Keeping this to yourself can’t be healthy.” He used his fingers to wipe a lone tear from Aiden’s face. “For them or for you.”
He stood, pulling Aiden up too.
“You are an amazing person, Aiden. Amazing. This much I knew already. But this level of commitment?” He paused, tilting his head until Aiden kissed him on the lips.
“You know it can’t go on any longer.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marco led him back to the bedroom. “You need to relax.” He issued instructions, guiding Aiden until he first backed into, then sat down on their bed. His voice was a low grumble. “No wonder you have been such a moody shit to live with. You are impossible, Aiden.” He softened his chiding with a quick touch to Aiden’s face. “Impossible and incredible.” He stopped to kneel, pulling off Aiden’s socks before saying, “Take off the rest of your clothes. I will be back in a moment.”
Aiden turned his head in time to glimpse Marco’s expression as he left the room. He looked focused and determined as he headed back out to the hallway. Marco hadn’t smiled once since they’d started talking in the kitchen, and seeing him solemn for such a protracted period was disconcerting.
He returned holding one of the oversized towels he used to sunbathe in the backyard.
“Why are you still dressed?”
A quick flick of his wrists had the towel stretched out diagonally across the bed.
“You deserve some care and attention. I can’t solve your problems, but at least let me help you feel a little better.” Marco smiled at last, even if it was a smaller smile than usual.
Aiden couldn’t help his response, hauling Marco quickly into a rib-squeezing hug, only stopping when Marco’s sudden huff of laughter sounded breathless and delighted.
“Easy, Aiden. Easy. I haven’t even started yet, but anyone would think you were already feeling better.”
He did feel better. That was an understatement. Better, and so thankful to have Marco in his life. Those words slipped out as he pressed his face to Marco’s neck. It seemed as if he’d bared his soul, and instead of judging his made-in-haste decisions about how best to shield his family, Marco was going to stand by him.
“It’s me who feels fortunate,” Marco said, his words sounding fiercely protective. “Your strength . . . .” He shook his head.
Aiden didn’t feel strong, unless he was shifting cartons. Overwhelmed and beaten down by relentless financial pressure was how he usually saw himself. Apparently Marco viewed him differently, and he took the time to tell Aiden in excruciating detail how much he admired him. Marco talked, his unremitting monologue ebbing and flowing like waves meeting a pebbled shoreline—repetitive and soothing as he steadily undressed Aiden.
With his clothes off and stretched facedown on the bed, Aiden had a moment where he felt so exposed—both inside and out—that he shivered violently.
“It is not cold in here, Aiden. Are you feeling nervous?”
He shook his head. He was tired and wrung out. That was all. Who knew that talking about private shit would turn out to be so exhausting? Watching Marco strip naked made him shiver again.
“Relax.” Marco leaned across the bed, dropping a kiss on Aiden’s shoulder. “I only want to make you feel good.” He carefully removed Aiden’s glasses and then walked out of his line of vision.
Listening to Marco continue to talk about him as he paced around the room—placing his glasses on the nightstand before closing the curtains—was incredibly tiring. After speaking for what felt like hours about things he’d kept inside for years, Aiden suddenly felt fatigue that was bone deep. He closed his eyes as the bed dipped to one side. When something cool and wet splashed onto the small of his back, he jumped.
“Sorry, it only takes a minute before the oil warms on your skin.”
The room filled with the scent of vanilla—initially almost overpowering—as Marco kneaded tension from places Aiden hadn’t realized he held it. He closed his eyes again. This wasn’t exactly what he’d expected from the evening, but it felt awesome.
Marco had moved on to recounting the very first week they’d lived together as his fingers sought out knots. “I thought then that you were so repressed. I talked with Paul about you often.”
Aiden snorted.
“He wasn’t much help.”
“What did you ask?”
Marco’s lips were soft on the skin below Aiden’s ear. His words were a warm rush of air that had Aiden squirming. “I asked him how to make you happy. It seemed obvious to me that all of your yelling, locking me out of the house, and your constant heartburn must be due to some long-term problem.”
“I don’t have constant heartburn.”
Marco whispered in his ear. “Liar. It’s getting worse, and that can’t be coincidental. If you won’t look after your health, be warned that I will do it for you.”
His fingers pressed and pushed and probed, digging in when Aiden mumbled, “So bossy.”
Marco kept on talking. “The longer I knew you, the more confused I became. Why did no one but me and one other person ever notice your unhappiness? It isn’t normal to frown from morning through to evening.” He shifted until he straddled the back of Aiden’s thighs. “Then sometimes, it was like you forgot to wear your bad-mood mask. I would catch you smiling with Evan or at a customer in your store. You could relax with him or strangers, but when you came home . . . .” His words trailed off.
Marco’s palms were working some kind of magic, spreading curling licks of warmth through Aiden’s whole body, comforting and relaxing rather than scorching like the inner burn that he’d gotten so used to. Marco dug in harder, forcing Aiden to huff out a huge breath. He was much stronger than he looked.
“It used to make me feel so bad that you only relaxed with your brother or with people who shopped at your store. I wondered why you so rarely
went out in the evening. And if you did, you would come home in a worse mood. Where were all of your friends? That’s what I used to wonder.” He reached over to the nightstand, turning out one of the bedside lights, his hand firmly planted in the center of Aiden’s back for balance. “Then I found out that you had none.”
Aiden didn’t bother to argue. Marco sure had his number.
“What was Paul’s advice?”
Marco burst out laughing as he moved back to his former position. “He said that I should get you laid. I’m not sure he would have approved of how we first nearly went about that.”
Aiden lay in silence. The way they’d gotten it on after he lost his shit at his mom’s house seemed like something he’d imagined. Finding Marco in the garage had made him relive his very worst day, then try to cancel it out by getting off. It seemed so wrong to him that he’d had a chance to have Marco—to have this for himself—but had initially shoved him away.
Marco’s voice was low. “I wish I’d had courage then. The kind of courage that you make look so easy, Aiden. I should have told you ‘No’ right away instead of taking what I could get. If we’d fucked that night, I could have messed up what we have now. I should have stopped you instead of letting you take what you needed, but I thought it might be my only chance to get closer to you.” He paused, hands stopping their soothing movements. “Before then, I had just about decided to give up and go home to Milan. It was obvious that you couldn’t stand me the next morning. I knew I’d made a big mistake.”
Aiden reached back, grasping Marco’s leg.
The heels of Marco’s hands pressed on either side of Aiden’s spine, pushing up until he lay with his cock pressed to Aiden’s ass crack.
“All I did was make you argue with your brother. I lay awake all night thinking about what Joel said after you shut yourself in your room. He told me he’d never met anyone so determined to be lonely. That’s when I decided to back off.” His hands stole into Aiden’s hair. “It was hard, because you are irresistible and annoying, and you needed someone in your corner.” His teeth grazed Aiden’s nape, making him grab at the sheets, distracting him from Marco’s monologue.
