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“Don’t make Laura clean up this shit, all right?” My dad tugged at a strand of my hair. “You have a hangover?”

Humming my agreement, I kept my eyes closed. I was a grown man but when my dad gave his time this way, coddling me, I was a little kid again and I revelled in his attention. It had never been lacking, I was loved completely, without a shadow of a doubt, my father never let me forget it. Not a single day. We stayed that way for a while, him stroking his fingers through my hair, me comforted by his touch.

“You know what’s going on with Shaun?” It wasn’t a question he was asking out of curiosity.

I shook my head because I didn’t, not really. He had his hands in dodgy stuff, didn’t take a genius to work it out. I wasn’t sure of the details, nor did I want to know. He carried a weapon, I’d seen it, made assumptions he was gang affiliated since he’d never admitted if he was or not, all I knew is he wanted out of whatever life he was in. Shaun was desperate to cut ties, the ins and outs, not my business. I was inclined to tell my dad I didn’t care, but it would have been a bare faced lie, so I kept my mouth shut.

My dad asked another question, confirming it was grill Ayden day. “You know what you’re doing here?”

Shaking my head again, I chanced a look at him finally. What I felt for Shaun went further than the end of my bed. I understood my dad’s concern, it’s what parents did, but I wanted his approval, didn’t want to tell him any half-truths.

“I’m in deep, dad. I think he is too. But I’m struggling. It just seems the world and his dog are against us.”

Removing his hand from my hair, he sat up straighter. “I got that, son. From both of you. He isn’t your average guy, and I’m sure you know that. I just need you to understand what you’re doing getting involved with him.”

I thought I did, hoped I did.

“Your uncle and I are helping him. He went to Ryder last week, didn’t know where else to go, who to trust. I think Sophie getting pregnant was the catalyst for him. It took us a while to put two and two together.”

It surprised me Shaun had sought out my uncle, considering the type of guy I knew him to be. Fiercely proud.

“You can’t hold his past against him. Look at how that works, doesn’t end so well, a sorry mess is all you’ll end up with.”

He was talking about my mother, his wife. Was that what she’d done my whole life? Punished him for something in his past? It didn’t make sense because they had met so young, what could he have possibly have done that was so terrible my mother had been the way she was? I shook the implausible thought away, I knew my dad well enough to know his words and their meanings. And he was right. We all had a past, just because I had nothing in mine worth talking on, didn’t mean everyone else was the same.

“Yeah...”

“So, we’re going to help him,” he paused, looking around the room, his posture appearing tight. “This is personal for Ryder. Shaun’s boss, Charlie, is your uncle’s estranged father. I promised Ryder I’d be honest with you, so I am. He left his father’s clutches when he was eleven years old. Your grandfather almost killed Charlie for the way he treated his son. He took Ryder and threatened to end Charlie’s life if he came near again. Your grandfather had the means to do so, too.”

I finally understood the relationship my dad and Ryder had, they were brothers that shared no blood, though brothers all the same. I envied their relationship but could feel that deep bond pulling between myself and Jake. We were like my dad and my uncle, but meagre fledglings in comparison.

“Charlie will fight back if we get Shaun out, you need to be aware, be vigilant. We’ll do what we can, hide him if we need to. But he’s absolutely committed to walking away.”

Smiling at my dad, I knew what he was telling me. Every time Shaun talked about getting out of his current situation I could hear the truth in his words, in his conviction.

“You don’t talk about him much.”

My dad’s face scrunched in confusion. “Who?”

“My grandfather.” I didn’t remember him, but I knew what he looked like. I’d caught my grandmother gazing at old photographs a time or two when she was alive.

“No,” he said sadly, “he wasn’t a good man, despite what he did for Ryder. I have strived most of my life to not be like him, make sure you aren’t either.”

Nobody talked of my grandfather, not even my grandmother, no one sung his praises, and I often forgot he had ever been alive at all so scant was the mention of him.

“Nonna missed him.” I used the old name she sometimes referred to herself as.

“That she did.”

“I know I was young when she died but I still miss her.”

“So do I, son. So do I.” He swiped at an eye quickly then clapped a hand on my chest. “This thing with Shaun and your mum?” he looked at me then, “leave it in the past. Let him apologise then move on. Life is too short, Ayden.” My dad talked the most sense of anyone I knew. Every day I thanked my lucky stars I had a dad like him and we shared a good relationship. He was something rare. “Okay...” he sighed, “get up, clean this mess then come down for some breakfast.”

He stood from the bed, eyeing the towel on the floor again. “You hit him, and you need to apologise too, for lifting your hand. I didn’t raise you that way, son. I get you were angry and hurt but it’s no excuse. Understand?”

Friend had turned into authority figure. I appreciated where he was coming from. I had been a hundred percent out of line punching Shaun. “I will, dad,” I promised.

I sat up and scrubbed my hands down my tired face, the ache in my head still ever present.

“Good. There’s very little that’s unforgiveable. Don’t punish him for the wrong things. He’s a good man, with a rough past, who wants to do the right thing. If you can’t let him move on from his mistakes, then you need to walk away. Make your mind up and stick with it. I think Shaun has a long way to go, but with you by his side he might just manage it quicker.”

“Thanks, dad.”

He left the room, nothing more to be said. I climbed from the bed, hitching my boxer briefs up and glaring at the mess surrounding me. Spending the next twenty minutes, I cleaned the destruction I’d saw fit to produce the night before. Throwing the curtains open I felt invigorated from the fifteen-minute shower I’d stepped under, my headache dulling with the help of some ibuprofen and a pint of water.

By the time I made it into the kitchen, I felt a heap better than an hour earlier, my head clearer, and I wanted to see Shaun. When I clapped eyes on him, my breath faltered. He stood with Laura, back to the door, his movements fluid as he helped my step mum clear up morning dishes. I watched his hands still, his body stiffen, when he sensed my presence. Turning slowly, the sorrow in his eyes cut me to the quick. I rushed to where he stood, hauling him against me, my fingers tipping his chin upwards, so I could confront the damage I’d done through my anger.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” I breathed centimetres from his lips. “I’m so sorry. I won’t ever lift my hand to you again. I swear.” I felt like bawling my eyes out like a little girl when I studied the purpled bruise that had formed around the cut on his lower lip.

Shaun kissed me, planted his mouth against mine and then drew away just as quick. “I deserved it.”

“No. Never from my hands, Shaun.”

He stared intently, and everything else faded except the man before me with his head bowed, the intensity charging between us. Clearing his throat and straightening up, he looked at me again. “Fancy taking me for a walk?”

The grin made my face ache. That I could do, no problem. He’d love Beaufort, I was sure of it.