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The minute Claire saw me stagger through the door of Monty’s, she was at my side and dragging me through the back. Sitting me down in the small staff room she threw a pack of wet wipes at me before disappearing back out the door. I scrubbed at my stained hands, the blood half dried and ingrained, not wanting to come off.

Yeah, blood stained hands. Described me to a fucking T. I sat there and hung my head in shame and defeat.

For the third time in my life I felt utterly lost. I had no clue what I was doing, where my life was going. In that moment I didn’t care, and it wasn’t as scary as it should have been. I contemplated getting drunk, for all of a minute before deciding it was really the coward’s way out and would solve no problems. Fuck knows where I’d end up, I couldn’t just bury my head in the sand this time.

I had no plan. I was fucked, royally. And not in a way I liked.

Claire returned with a clean t-shirt. Handing it to me she shyly, she whispered; “It’s Boomer’s.” I took in sharp breaths as I fingered the material she’d placed in my lap, more hurt piling on top of what was already there.

I missed him more than ever. I had no doubt that life would be a dammed sight less complicated if he was still around. He’d be telling me to get a fucking grip and sort my shit out. I was by no means a quitter but right now, yeah, I wanted to quit more than anything. I’d lost everything, and I didn’t know how to right it, how to get it back.

“Shaun?” I heard Claire ask. I didn’t look up at her, feeling embarrassed for sitting there full of self-pity. “Clean up and come out, I’ll pour you a drink, okay?” She said softly, then she left me to my own devices.

I tugged my ripped t-shirt off and threw it into the trash can, then headed to the men’s room to scrub my hands and try to look a little more presentable before heading out to the bar.

A bloke I vaguely recognised as a regular was sitting talking to Claire when I emerged from the back hallway. He nodded to the stool next to him and I took it without argument. Claire pushed a pint of Craft in my direction, patting my shoulder and nodding her head at me. She continued with her work, cleaning the bar top then swishing out glasses. I was thankful she knew me so well, to leave me alone but still have an eye on me. I smiled; at least one thing was half-way right in my life.

My heart lurched when someone brushed my arm and leaned over the bar. I didn’t turn towards him directly, didn’t need to, but clocked him in my peripheral. His hands were splayed on the counter, steady as a rock, and he stared straight ahead.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

I did turn then, I simply had to. I was mute, couldn’t speak, just looked, and marvelled at all he was. He was so self-assured but with a hardness set on his face I’d never witnessed before. It made me nervous to say the least, I wasn’t sure why.

“You don’t look cute gawping, Shaun.”

I hadn’t realised I was, and I instantly shut my mouth and shook my head for some clarity. How he even knew to find me here was a miracle. Yet he had.

Jesus.... I loved this man.

I fucking needed this man.

The fact that he was standing right next to me was something, right? I lacked the confidence I normally carried around, he disarmed me in a way that no other had. I was second guessing myself and immediately went on the defence.  “What d’ya want, Ayden?” I cringed at the tone of my voice, felt embarrassed all over again, I just couldn’t bloody help myself. “Round two, huh?” I turned away from him, not even able to blame my attitude on being drunk. I downed my pint ready to move the fuck on and get away from the heartache standing off to my side.

He laughed. The cocksucker laughed, and it pissed me off, not finding it amusing for one little second. Pushing back and standing up, I made to leave and get the fuck out of there, having had enough for one day. His barbs would be the final straw, I couldn’t take it.

“Shaun, stop.” He spoke forcefully as he pushed me back into the counter and pinned me there with his body, arms around either side of me.

So close. Too close, up close and personal. Barely breathing, he got in my face, his perfect one staring right into mine. I softened into his body before I realised what I was doing, my anger dissipating as quick as it came. Ayden’s presence disarming me completely.

He felt so good, so damned good, I wanted to collapse into his arms and beg forgiveness. Fuck my pride. I didn’t know how I’d got myself into the positions I did that caused major fuck ups to those around me but thinking about them made me sick to my stomach. Sick I’d hurt him in those ways. I wasn’t a cheater and it wasn’t something I would have ever thought I’d do to Ayden.

But you did, you fuckhead!

Yes, I had. And I would beg. Get down on my bloody knees and plead until he took me back. Then I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to him if he’d only let me.

Ayden grabbed at my chin bringing my focus back to him. We stood that way for what felt like forever. Chest to chest. Man, to man.

Lover to lover.

Him staring at me, me looking back at him, getting lost in those eyes of his that had captivated me from the very first moment I had seen him up close. Ayden swiped his thumb across my bottom lip making me close my eyes for a moment. So good, so right. So intimate that I forgot about it all – where we were, how we’d got there, what had happened. I savoured his small attention, never wanting the moment to end.

“I’m sorry,” he said. My eyes snapped open and I looked at him incredulously. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. I shook my head, not accepting the apology. What did he have to be sorry for? This was all on me whether I remembered or not. “Listen to me....” he continued, “I’m sorry. I should have seen the bigger picture and waited. Waited for you.” He let go of me and hung his head. My entire body screamed in protest, I wanted his touch back, his body close again, right that fucking minute. My hand shot out to grab at his, entwining our fingers together, I squeezed hard.

“Don’t you let go.” I gritted out.

He moved back in and touched his lips to mine, soft, gentle, loving. Looking at me, he solemnly stated, “I fucking love you. We don’t let go right?”

He was looking for assurances and I was all right with giving them then. There was no hesitation if it was what he needed. I kissed him back as reverently as he had me.

“We don’t let go...”