Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  The officer continued to talk and Lily’s features grew more frustrated. She dug in her purse and produced her wallet, showing him her driver’s license.

  “Let him out,” she said again. “This is my home, my property, he’s my brother-in-law, and I’m not pressing charges.”

  His ten minutes in the back of a police car, hands cuffed behind him, had given him the time he needed to get his head together. He’d messed up; he realized that now. As the officer unlocked his restraints, Lily flung herself at him, wrapping him in a hug which he accepted stiffly.

  “You silly idiot,” she chastised in his ear. She’d never been overly affectionate with him, but she squeezed him tightly now. “Why did you run away in the graveyard?”

  He couldn’t answer.

  “Patrick is worried sick about you. He’s called every five minutes since you bolted. He’s on his way over now.”

  “No,” Aidan murmured weakly. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to see him. Not like this.”

  “Well, not like this,” she agreed. “We’ll get you a shirt.” It was a bad attempt at a joke and did nothing to make him feel better.

  “Lily, you’re supposed to be with Nadia. And Patrick is supposed to be with…” He couldn’t even finish.

  “What are you talking about?” Lily asked, gripping him by the shoulders and pushing him far enough away from her that she could look him right in the eye. “Honey, I’m not with Patrick. Even if I liked men, which I don’t— Did you really break into my house because you thought I was with Patrick?”

  He knew how it looked—like he was crazed with jealousy—a petty madman who’d come to wreck her things for touching “his man.” But it wasn’t that at all. Seeing Patrick’s lips against her cheek had hurt. Badly. But that wasn’t why.

  “I just needed to be close to Nadia,” he whispered. “I needed to be close to her things. I…I…”

  “Come on inside, honey.”

  “Aren’t you angry?”

  “I’m mad as hell,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Let’s go check out the damage and wait for Patrick and you can tell me more about what’s going on.”

  Everything was so scrambled in his head.

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Unpacking

  Patrick stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Aidan, who was so disconnected that he hadn’t even heard the knock at the door, nor noticed Lily rise from the table to leave the room.

  “Would you like a coffee?” she asked.

  “Please,” Aidan answered.

  Patrick nodded silently in response to Lily’s question, for it had been addressed to him. He advanced no further, taking the moment to assess the situation. He leaned on the door jamb, wondering how it could be that Aidan still looked so handsome in the ridiculous oversized shirt, and with such a terrible, ugly sadness clinging like lichen to his very presence. Aidan remained completely still but for the repeated pressing together and pulling apart of his thumbs. It was a gentle, mesmerizing motion, on which he was fixated. Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to watch, while Lily prepared three cups and filled them from the coffee pot.

  “It’s freshly made,” she explained.

  Patrick smiled but still said nothing. He wasn’t sure yet what he should say. Would Aidan still be mad? Did he believe Lily? Patrick wished he’d been honest from the start. They wouldn’t be in this predicament now if he’d just thrown it out there—I met your sister-in-law, she seems lovely—because he’d made Aidan suffer unnecessarily, as if he hadn’t already suffered enough. It was no wonder the poor guy was all over the place. He didn’t know his up from his down just now.

  But, hell, was he a sight for sore eyes. Even with his hair sticking up like he’d just got out of bed—or maybe because of it—and smudges of dirt on his face, Patrick wanted Aidan like he’d never wanted anyone. Too many wounds to mend, scars to fade. Rushing into anything would probably make it worse.

  But it might not.

  Patrick took a slow, deep breath. It was getting harder to ignore the angel-devil chatter in his head—take him, don’t take him, make mad, passionate love to him, just be his friend… Why not both?

  Why not?

  Perhaps he was being over-protective. Aidan wasn’t a child; he was a twenty-seven-year-old man, with a good education behind him, or at least the start of one, and a job, for what it was worth. He fed and dressed himself, owned a car. Wasn’t it doing him a disservice, mollycoddling him the way Patrick had been?

  “Milk and sugar?” Lily asked. Patrick cleared his throat. Aidan’s head jerked sharply in his direction.

  “You,” he said. Not angry. Confused?

  “Aye.” Patrick smiled. “How are you doing?”

  Aidan turned away again and sighed—one of those sighs that tore right through Patrick’s soul. “Not great,” Aidan admitted. Patrick’s body swayed forward, but his feet stayed where they were. Go to him. Go to him, you dithering, bloody—

  “I’ll just leave the milk and sugar here,” Lily suggested. “You guys help yourselves. I’ll er…” She trailed off, no reason coming to mind, and moved toward the hallway.

  “Would you bring down the boxes, please, Lily?” Aidan asked so quietly it was almost a whisper.

  “The boxes?”

  “Nadia’s things.”

  “Oh!” The request stopped Lily in her tracks. Aidan looked up and fully met her gaze, holding it. “You’re sure?” she asked. He nodded.

  “I’m sure, Lily. I need…” He chewed his lip, fighting back tears that came anyway. “We need to do it, because I can’t—” That was all the words Aidan had left. His wailing cry of grief was both Patrick’s and Lily’s undoing. She fled the kitchen and raced up the stairs. Patrick crossed the space from door to table in a couple of strides and fell to his knees before Aidan, catching him as he slumped forward.

  “You’re all right, Aidan, my love. I’ve got you, I’ve got you now. It’s all going be all right, I promise, I promise. I won’t let you fall.”

  Aidan’s cries were beyond sobbing, just a long stream of relentless anguish, barely pausing for him to catch a breath. In those brief interludes, Patrick heard Lily crying in the room above them, and would have split himself in half if he could have, but this was where he wanted to be; right here, with Aidan. Lily was so much stronger. She would never find another to replace Nadia, of course, but one day she might meet someone whom she could love just as much. Aidan would never have another sister, much less a twin.

  “The coffee,” Aidan gasped, raising his head a little, his breaths still deep and juddery. Patrick fished a tissue from his pocket and offered it; Aidan took it and kept it in his hands. Patrick chuckled quietly and found another tissue.

  “You want your coffee?” he asked, gently wiping Aidan’s cheeks. Aidan nodded and leaned into Patrick’s hand. His eyes were swollen and his nose was bright red, but Patrick wanted to kiss him just the same. He moved closer and no more than touched his lips to Aidan’s. Aidan sniffed and attempted a smile. Above them came the sound of someone blowing their nose really hard, like a kid with their first trumpet.

  “Is that Lily?” Aidan asked. Patrick nodded to confirm it was. “I’ve been so unkind to her, Patrick. I didn’t want them to be together. She was my Na-Na. And then when the baby…” Aidan stopped, screwed his eyes tight shut and took a couple of rapid breaths.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Patrick whispered, brushing his thumb across Aidan’s cheek. “You don’t have to say a word.”

  “I do.” Aidan opened his eyes again. “I hated that baby. Hated her. All I could think was she killed my sister. She killed Na-Na. Why didn’t Lily have their baby? Then it would be her—”

  The tears returned; Aidan fought them back and shook his head, no words to accompany his thoughts, but Patrick understood them well enough. It was the same as when his mam was going for chemo and one of the other women got the all-clear. Mam had congratulated her, then lay th
ere telling him how wonderful it was that the woman had beaten the cancer. She had children at home who needed her, and Patrick wanted to yell but you’re my mammy and I need you! And he wished it was that other woman, not his mam, in that bed with that useless poison pouring into her body. It was the only time he’d ever wished anyone ill, and he’d never quite forgiven himself for it.

  “It’s okay to feel like that, Aidan.”

  “The therapist said that too, but I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to see you with Lily and hate her for cheating on Na-Na. Which is stupid anyway.”

  Patrick nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, she likes girls, you know? And I’m, er…not one?”

  Aidan managed a little laugh at that, then looked Patrick in the eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before. I didn’t know I…” He lowered his eyelids, suddenly bashful. “I really like you, Patrick…Paddy.” He peered at Patrick through wet lashes.

  “Paddy, huh?”

  “Is that bad?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Not at all. You can call me what you like, Aidan…my love.”

  Aidan took a huge breath in, and as he let it go, the most wonderful smile bloomed on his lips. There was no stopping it now, and no need to stop it. The time was right; Patrick didn’t know how he knew; he just did. He lifted off his haunches and cupped both of Aidan’s cheeks with his palms, smoothing his thumb over Aidan’s lower lip. Aidan leaned closer, their eyes locked, and Patrick finally gave that nagging little angel the old heave-ho, and pulled Aidan to him, pushing his lips apart with his tongue, no longer holding back in showing how desperately he wanted him.

  Aidan slid forward until the only thing stopping him sliding right off the chair was the pressure of the kiss. Patrick moved his hands, combing his fingers through Aidan’s hair, breaking out in goose bumps when Aidan groaned into his mouth and his tongue chased Patrick’s, forcing a retreat. Patrick allowed him in, reveling in the slickness, and that mix of cautious exploration and harder probing.

  Somewhere beyond their kiss a door opened.

  “I’ve brought down the boxes from the attic. I’m going to get us some takeout… Oh!” Lily paused. “I’ll, er, be back in about thirty minutes? Maybe an hour.”

  The door closed again.

  The coffee went cold.

  Patrick slowly withdrew, breathless, lips aching, dreadful pins and needles in his legs, but no way was he going to stop Aidan’s little pecked after-kisses, falling like cherry blossom petals against his tingling lips.

  “I can’t feel my feet,” Patrick uttered in between the kisses.

  “They’re still there,” Aidan replied with a grin. Patrick laughed.

  “I’ve gotta get up.”

  Aidan backed off and Patrick gripped the chair, grimacing. “Holy Mary…” he hissed as he pulled himself upright and staggered. Aidan was straight on his feet, with his arms around Patrick to steady him. He kept them there until Patrick was capable of standing unaided.

  “Okay now?” Aidan asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Good.” Aidan kept hold. Patrick could feel himself grinning. “Just returning the favor,” Aidan explained.

  “Well, thanks.” Patrick looped his arms around Aidan and kissed him again. “You taste good, Aidan Degas, even ready salted.”

  “Ready salted?”

  “I’ll explain it sometime, my love.”

  Aidan shivered and smiled; their lips were still touching, hot breath mingling. “I like you calling me that.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it. I intend to say it at least a dozen times a day. What do you think of that, Aidan…my love?”

  “Every day?”

  “Every single one of ’em.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Improvising

  “We should probably go back downstairs now,” Patrick murmured against Aidan’s lips. Aidan had gone to the bathroom to wash his face, dragging Patrick with him on the pretext of showing him Nadia’s flower sketches. Somewhere along the way they’d found themselves in the guest bedroom. They’d tried to move toward the door twice already, but couldn’t stop kissing each other long enough. Now they sat on the bed, holding one another.

  “Do we have to?”

  “Well, I’m afraid if we don’t we might end up doing more than kissing in here…”

  Aidan was too embarrassed to say what was on his mind. We could do more than kiss… But Patrick either felt his heart or saw his blush, because he murmured lowly, “I just don’t want to rush you, my love.”

  Aidan swallowed heavily and leaned into Patrick’s palm as the other man tucked a stray strand of hair behind Aidan’s ear. Then, with the gentleness of a dragonfly landing on a pond, he placed a kiss on Aidan’s lobe, sending a shiver racing up his spine.

  “I don’t think there’s any stopping the boulder once it’s started rolling down the hill,” Aidan whispered. He was thinking the wickedest thoughts now, filtered through Patrick’s gentle touch. He didn’t even know much about how sex with Patrick would work exactly. Rather, Aidan thought he knew, but he wasn’t sure, not really. What he imagined, though, made him as anxious as a teenager and twice as hard.

  “God, yer a temptin’ man, Aidan.”

  They shouldn’t. They really shouldn’t. Not in Nadia and Lily’s house, even if it was only the guest bed.

  “I am?”

  “Lie down, love,” Patrick said and Aidan’s breath caught. Oh God, were they going to…? He complied, lay back against the mattress and almost cried out as Patrick’s warm fingers moved up under his borrowed shirt, teasing his belly with gentle, feather-light caresses. Aidan began to tremble and for a moment, Patrick looked concerned. “I’ll stop if you tell me to. You only need to make a noise or a motion that you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

  “No, I do want to…I just…I’m…I don’t know what to do and…I’m…” He couldn’t make his mouth work. Couldn’t tell Patrick that he was frightened. But once again, Patrick read him like an open book.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” Patrick said kindly, pushing Aidan’s shirt up so that he could place kisses along his chest and stomach. “Would you like me to please you, Aidan?”

  He could not imagine a person in his position who would have been able to say no and so he nodded, quite desperately, and groaned as Patrick worked open the button on his jeans. His kisses were traveling slowly down, his belly button, the trail of hair that led further, and as his lips reached the edge of the denim, Patrick tugged on the zipper.

  Suddenly, Aidan stiffened, an intense wave of anxiety crashing down over him. He gasped, having forgotten to breathe and feeling like he was drowning. It wasn’t his intention to make Patrick stop, but the Irishman was nothing if not true to his promise. At the first sign that something was wrong with Aidan, he froze and lifted his head. Concern shimmered in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick whispered huskily, sitting up and quietly righting Aidan’s clothing. Aidan frantically shook his head. He didn’t want it to stop, it was just… “Shh,” Patrick soothed, and lay down beside Aidan, pulling him close. “I pushed. I knew I shouldn’t and I did it anyway. I’m so sorry.”

  Aidan couldn’t let that stand; couldn’t let Patrick believe he was alone in all this desire. “I want you, Paddy. It’s just…” He swallowed hard on the bile that had risen in his throat. “I was so stupid. I don’t even know if I’m…I mean, I didn’t think to, I was so woozy on the wine and—”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I wasn’t safe with her, Patrick, I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry again in front of the beautiful man he so liked. It was a losing battle. He remembered saying something about condoms, but his words were so slurred by that point. “I don’t know if I’m okay. I mean, I feel fine, but what if I…caught something? Jesus. I’m sorry.”

  Just having been with Ms. Ashmore made him feel dirty. Even though it was months ago, he felt repulsive and wanted to shower every time he thought about what he
’d done. What had been done to him. Aidan pulled away from Patrick, knowing that Patrick would now find him dirty as well. Aidan the whore. Aidan with God-knew-what crawling around inside him. The tears he’d been fighting crested.

  “I haven’t even thought about it until now. How stupid is that? It never even occurred to me. I need to get tested.” He stood up then, loathing himself in that moment. The fantasy was melting away. The sweet kisses, the warmth of Patrick’s arms, the quiet and calm, they were all melting away and what was left was Aidan alone. Broken, stupid Aidan who always made the wrong decisions. Aidan who’d gotten drunk and become a plaything for the women of The Grand Heights. Aidan with no dreams or aspirations. Aidan who resented a dead baby. “I’m not sure how to do that, though. Get tested. I’ll have to Google it, maybe.” His voice sounded very far away to his own ears. He was Aidan the thief, the liar, the burglar, who’d almost sullied Patrick just by being with him and—

  He didn’t realize how violently he was shaking until he felt Patrick’s arms wrap around him. He tried to pull away but Patrick wouldn’t let him go.

  “I must repulse you.”

  “I’ve never struck a woman in my life, Aidan,” Patrick murmured in his ear, which to Aidan was no answer to his accusation. “But if I could get my hands on that Ms. Ashmore for the things she’s done to you… Listen to me, my love. You could never repulse me. Never. Ever.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘but’ about it. I’ve an idea. Do you want to hear?”

  Back in Patrick’s arms, the panic began to subside, if only a little. His loathing remained, but at least, for the moment, he was beginning to feel safe. It was selfish to use Patrick like this, as his grounding post. He knew that. But he couldn’t seem to stop.

  “We’ll go together.”

  “What?”

  “To get tested. You and I will go together.”

  “You need to, too?”

  “Not as such,” Patrick admitted. “I’ve not been with anyone since my last test—clean—but I’d like to do this with you, if you don’t mind. I’ll show you my papers, you’ll show me yours, and we’ll both celebrate a clean bill of health.”