Chapter Sixteen
Shannon
Soft laughter broke through the fog, pulling Shannon from a fitful sleep. He could hear Taylor and Frank talking in the other room, Taylor’s laugh a welcome sound in the deafening quiet. Although he knew that Rory, Rand, and Connie were all very good at their jobs, he couldn’t help but remember all the pain he suffered at Bruce’s hands. Not to mention Tuan, the bodyguard from hell that was wicked fast and meaner than a nest of hornets. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t dismiss his fear and worry. He tossed and turned half the night before dozing off and on out of sheer exhaustion. It didn’t help that he wasn’t in his home, sleeping in his bed. Taylor’s house was familiar to him, but it wasn’t the same. So, between the very real danger three people he truly cared about were putting themselves in and the inability to shut his mind off for more than five minutes, he was dog-tired and weary.
“Knock, knock.” Taylor pushed the door open, leaning against the frame with a mug in each hand. “Thought you might need this.”
“God, yes.” He sighed, waving Taylor into the room and accepting the steaming mug of yummy goodness he handed him. Sitting at the foot of the bed and crossing his legs, Taylor asked how he’d slept. “Ugh, don’t ask.”
“Have you talked to Rory since they left?” Taylor asked.
Sighing, he shook his head. “No, I was in the shower when he called. Said he loved me and he’d call me when it’s done.” Pulling his legs up, Shannon rested his chin on his knees and looked out the window. Rain peppered the glass, the sky gray and dreary, much like his mood.
“Talk to me, Shan.” Taylor spoke softly, voice steady and unwavering.
Tears stung his eyes and he ducked his head, words caught in his throat, rendering him mute. The mug he held was gone. Whether he’d dropped it or Taylor had taken it, he didn’t know. For the past six years, Shannon had worked diligently to put that part of his life behind him, to move past it. First, he’d thrown himself at any guy that so much as looked at him with appreciation. Then, he took Taylor’s advice and concentrated on school and his emotional well-being—as well as talking to a counselor weekly for over a year. Taking one day at a time, Shannon grew more comfortable in his own skin, more confident and proud to be the man he became. Striving for more, he dove headfirst into setting up his own studio and with the assistance of Taylor and Frank, Shaylor Yoga and Dance was a huge success. He had a family now and a group of close-knit friends that he could rely on, but most importantly, he could trust them all. What had truly surprised Shannon was Rory—more so that he’d been able to open up every part of himself to the man and despite the ugliness he’d buried in the vast crevices of his soul, Rory Landers loved him.
And lord, did he love his best friend. Taylor just sat there and held him, rubbing his hand up and down Shannon’s arm, humming softly. He didn’t offer up words of cheer or empty promises, didn’t give him the “Everything will be fine” speech most people probably would.
“Jesus Tay, why can’t I just have a normal life? Is that too much to ask? I want to go home, and I want Rory to be there, not hundreds of miles away about to confront my demons. I don’t want to think about the past, about Bruce, and I don’t want that monster anywhere near Rory or Rand. What if he hurts them, Tay?” He was babbling, fresh tears stinging his eyes. One thing Shannon couldn’t do was hide anything from Taylor. Just his presence was soothing, a truth serum for Shannon’s chaotic emotions.
Sniffling, he sat up and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his eyes. “I seem to be making a habit out of breaking down around you lately, Tay. Sorry.”
“It’s ’cause I’m so easy to talk to—no worries.” Taylor fixed him with a pointed stare. “Do you even realize what you just said, Shan? You don’t want Bruce anywhere near Rory or Rand. Explain that to me.”
Heat rushing to his cheeks, Shannon lowered his head, but Taylor wasn’t having it. Fingers on his chin, Taylor lifted his head and locked eyes with him. “I’m the last person in the world that’s going to judge you, Shan. You can talk to me. Tell me what’s going on, please.”
Groaning, he fell back onto the pillow leaning against the headboard. “I can’t answer that question, not really, because I don’t even know myself. I love Rory, I do, but there is something about Rand Davis. The way he looks at me and how those looks make me feel all warm and gooey on the inside. I know it’s insane but…fuck, why does being an adult have to be so goddamn hard?” He grabbed another pillow, covering his face.
“Have you talked to Rory about your feelings for the detective?”
“No.” The word was muffled by the bundle of cotton inside the tan, linen pillowcase.
“Maybe you should.” Taylor snatched the pillow away from him. Shannon’s only response was a self-deprecating snort. His friend laughed and though he tried very hard not to smile, he couldn’t help it. “Seriously, Shan. You obviously care about Rand, or this wouldn’t even be on your mind. And I know for a fact that Rand Davis likes you and Rory.”
“Say what?” He sat up straight. “What do you mean ‘you know’? You know what? Spill.”
Stunned, he sat and listened to Taylor relay the conversation he’d had with Rand over the summer at Martha’s Vineyard. “So, Rand likes us both?” Taylor nodded. “But…no…is that a thing, really, three people? Wait, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. My infatuation with the surly detective has no bearing on my relationship with Rory. I’m in love with Rory and committed to him, and that’s all that matters.” He said the words with conviction, ignoring the small part of him that disagreed with the statement.
Taylor watched him for a moment before responding. “I still remember the Shannon I met in that restaurant back in Austin years ago. How you wore your sexuality and personality like a badge of honor when deep down you were just a scared rabbit. I’ve been there through it all, Shan. We’ve been there for each other. Good days where we laughed and vegetated on the couch while binge-watching Netflix. Bad days when our dreams were haunted by your sociopath ex and my psychotic father. The fifteen-year-old that ran away from home, the eighteen-year-old that ran away from Bruce, the twentysomething that graduated from college with honors and now owns his own business—they will always be a part of you, Shannon. Events in your life that shaped you, made you the person you are. What I’m trying to say is, don’t let fear or indecision determine your future. When Rory and Rand get back and after that pariah is locked up, you really need to consider your feelings and have a conversation with Rory. I’d hate to see you walk away from something that could make you happy, Shan.”
Giving his bestie a playful shove and a watery smile, Shannon agreed to consider it. Taylor stood. “I’m gonna go get us some fresh coffee. Why don’t you go take a quick shower? ’Cause you stink.”
Shannon told his friend where he could shove his comment but grabbed his backpack and pulled out a change of clothes, toothbrush, and comb, and headed down the hall to the bathroom. The hot water felt amazing, relieving some of the tension in his shoulders and neck. It didn’t take him long—probably fifteen minutes—and Shannon was out of the shower, dressed in clean sweats, one of Rory’s FBI T-shirts, and walking down the hall in search of Taylor. He found him in the kitchen, cooking omelets and talking about work on speakerphone.
“Yes, you can go ahead and file the stack of folders on my desk. I’ve already followed up on those. There are a couple sitting by themselves—leave them. I’m still working those cases,” Taylor told his assistant.
Just a few months after graduating, Taylor had landed his dream job at Resource Center Dallas. With his bachelors and masters in social work, he was a valuable addition to the center that focused on counseling and HIV awareness for the LGBTQ community. “All right, if you need anything, call. I’ll be working from home today, bye.” Taylor disconnected the call, looking over his shoulder and smiling at Shannon. “Feel better?”
“Yeah, and suddenly starving. That smells amazing.” Shannon went to the fridge for juice, setting it on the counter before grabbing glasses and silverware. Taylor already had two plates out for the food. They settled at the bar and ate in silence, the food coupled with the shower calming Shannon’s stomach and nerves. He had to shove Taylor out of the kitchen when they were done so he could wash up the few dishes, joining him on the patio with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee once he was done. The rain had slowed to a fine mist, the air clean and crisp when he stepped outside.
“You know everything will be okay…right, Tink?” Taylor nudged him with his elbow.
He chuckled, nodding before taking a sip of the delicious Texas pecan coffee from Central Market; it was his favorite. “It’s hard for me to even think about my life back then, with Bruce. Knowing what he put me through and that he may be responsible for so much more misery than I ever thought possible, it terrifies me to think about them being in the same state as that monster, much less in the same room.”
Taylor nodded his agreement. “Yeah, but those three are like the militant musketeers. I’m pretty sure your ex-commander has no clue the fury that’s about to be unleashed on him. And when she’s done, Pearson will still have Rory and Rand to answer to.”
Shannon laughed so hard his ribs hurt. “Holy shit, Tay, that’s fucking funny—but so true!” Gonzales was one tough broad. Bruce truly had no clue what was coming for him.