I wasn’t expecting him to retaliate with force. He pushed me. A citable offence in itself. But I’d retaliated too. Old habits were hard to break, I guess. But when confronted with a hard shove and a push, I shoved and pushed right back.

I always had.

Call it self-defence. Call it stupid. But things with CJ escalated to out of hand in half a second. And when he’d shoved me and I shoved him back, he backed into the wall and I pushed myself against him, everything changed.

He changed.

He looked at my mouth, his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. He licked his bottom lip like he wanted to kiss me.

Like he wanted me to kiss him.

So, CJ was hiding more than one secret. Not only did he have illiteracy issues, he was also gay. Or bi, or curious.

Or interested.

He was complex, that was for sure. Another layer I wanted to peel back, unravel, undress.

CJ Davis was a puzzle I wanted to solve. I wanted to see how his pieces fit, how they interlocked, to see what bigger picture they made. And that’s where the problem was. I wanted. And wanting anything with a case I was working on was not only forbidden, but incredibly unwise and unethical.

But my time working with CJ was running out. Which meant if I wanted to help him⁠—which I did⁠—I needed to hurry.

I knocked on Mr Barese’s door. “Can I have a moment?”

He greeted me warmly. “Of course. Come in.”

I walked into his small office and waved at the loud radio blaring behind us. “I think I overstayed my welcome with CJ.”

Mr Barese laughed. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, it’s about CJ. Can I ask when he got qualified to do mechanic work?”

His expression told me all I needed to know. But he answered anyway, “Well, he doesn’t have a ticket. But I check everything he does. He’s very good, and he knows it all.”

I put my hand up and gave him a smile. “I’m not going to report anything. But I figured he didn’t go through an apprenticeship.”

He shook his head slowly, then studied me for a while like he wasn’t sure he should say what he was about to. “I don’t think he reads too well.”

I nodded. “I know.” I bit my lip. “Look, this is probably way out of line for me, but if I could convince him to get qualified, would you consider, as his employer, to put him on as an apprentice?”

Mr Barese stared at me, then laughed. “You think you can convince him to do that?”

“I can try.” I shrugged. “You’d be subsidised through the government if he was your apprentice. There are benefits and incentives. I haven’t looked into it too much. I thought I’d ask you first.”

He grinned. “Of course I would. He’s a good boy.”

I shook his hand and couldn’t help but smile. “Now I just need to convince him.”

He barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that. You’ll need it.”

I almost snorted. “I think I’ll need more than luck.”

He smiled but eyed me cautiously. “You really are trying to make a difference, yes?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to, anyway.”

Mr Barese shook my hand again, and on my way out, I stopped by the car CJ was working on. But from the volume of the radio, it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to speak to me. I could take a hint. Plus, as was evident from our altercation earlier, the more I pushed him, he’d either push back harder or run. And I wanted him to do neither.

* * *

Saturday afternoon was our first soccer game, and I was really pumped for it. And nervous. Gallan went through a few ball skills with me before the match. “What are you nervous for?”

“Because I haven’t played in ages.” I kicked the ball back to him. “I’m sure I’ll get smashed out there today.”

Gallan laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

There were a few lingering looks and smiles and I was interested to see if it would lead anywhere. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone, and the prospect of hooking up made me forget about my pre-match nerves.

We lost 2-1 but it was fun and I didn’t play anywhere near as bad as I thought I would. I was more interested in the after-game drinks and we headed straight to the pub afterwards. Being social and having a laugh was a huge step for me. It felt good and positive, and if I were being honest with myself, the prospect of spending more time with Gallan felt kinda nice too. We joined a few tables together in the beer garden and he chose the seat next to mine.

“So, what do you do for work?” I asked him once we were all sitting down.

He looked me right in the eye and smiled. “I’m a lube fitter.”

I choked on my beer, and a few of the guys laughed. “Always gets a laugh,” one of them said.

I composed myself, thankful I didn’t spit out my drink. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” he said, sipping his beer. His smile made it hard to tell if he was being honest. “No, honestly. I work for one of the mining companies in the Hunter. Lubrication fitter is the actual title, but it just means I work with high-pressure grease and lubrication, hydraulic systems and fluid coupling.”

I hid my smile behind my beer. “Sounds interesting.”

His eyes creased at the sides, his stare knowing, because really, straight men didn’t often get lube jokes. “It has its rewards.” He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “So, what do you do? You’ve just moved here, right?”

“Yeah. I’m a corrections officer.”

“A what?”

“A parole officer.”

Both his eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I shrugged. “At least there’s no lube jokes.”

Gallan laughed, as did a few others, and the conversation moved on, but Gallan stared at me, his head tilted, and we spoke amongst ourselves. “A parole officer. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I wasn’t expecting the lube fitter either.”

“Lubrication,” he clarified. “Lube is for something else entirely.”

I took a swig of my beer. “Noted.”

He picked at the label on his beer. “So tell me, what’s it like working with . . .” He gestured broadly with his hand. “I don’t know what the politically correct term is. Released offenders, ex-criminals . . .”

“Parolees?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Do you have to carry a gun?”

I snorted. “Uh, no. And actually, it’s pretty good. Rewarding, I guess. I want to help these people integrate back into the community. They’re not all bad people.” An instant replay of my meeting with CJ Davis ran through my mind⁠—his face, the way he licked his lip, the heat in his eyes followed by fear⁠—and I did my best to shut it down.

Gallan seemed to think about my not-all-bad-people comment for a while. “I guess not. So you’re one of the good guys then?”

“I’d like to think so. I think the politically correct term for that is doe-eyed naïvety. Well, at least I’m pretty sure that’s what some of my colleagues think of me.”

“Are you naïve, or are they jaded and cynical?”

I smiled. “A bit of both.”

“So, been doing it long?” he asked.

“Nope. Only since I moved here.”

“Wow.” He drained his beer bottle. “Are you liking Maitland?”

“I do. It’s a nice change.”

“Been back to Newcastle yet?”

“No, not yet.” Not ever was on the tip of my tongue, but we were interrupted by someone asking if we wanted refills, and thankfully our private conversation was over. Another beer later and a lot of laughs about how we played and I was feeling pretty damn good. Not drunk, or even buzzed, just happy.

But when Tony asked me if I wanted another beer, I shook my head. “Nah thanks, mate, I’m driving.”

Tony shot Gallan a look. “Beer?”

“No, I promised Nina I’d take her to the movies. I better get going soon.”

Nina? Had I read this all wrong? Was there a girlfriend?

Someone else was leaving as well, and it seemed a good time to pull the plug. “Yeah, I better get home too,” I said, getting to my feet.

Gallan stood up as well and we said our goodbyes and a few of us walked out together. When we got to the car park, the others split off, but Gallan kind of stopped walking, so I did too. “So,” I hedged. “Nina . . . ?”

He smiled at me. “Sister.”

I nodded slowly. “So not a girlfriend then.”

“No.” He smiled like my reaction pleased him. “She uh, she just broke up with her boyfriend so I said I’d take her out for dinner and to the movies. Being a good, dutiful big brother.”

A good, dutiful big brother.

Jesus. Who would have thought words alone could feel like a sledgehammer? I took a step back. “Um, I . . . that’s wow . . . That sounds fun. I better get going . . .”

If my reaction confused him or disappointed him, he didn’t let on. “Okay.”

I took another step back. “See you at training on Tuesday, right?”

“No, actually I work nights this week. Rotating roster. But I’ll see you at the game next Saturday, yeah?” He sounded hopeful.

“Sure thing. See you then.” I gave a wave and walked quickly to my car, trying to get a hold of myself. I took a few deep breaths, started the engine, and drove home, refusing to let my memories drag me under.

* * *

At work on Monday morning, I checked emails, went through my to-do list, and was researching apprenticeships when Terrell knocked on my door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

He had a folder in his hand and he put it in front of me before he sat down in the chair across from me. “Thought you might wanna take a look at this.”

Frowning, I opened the file.

Dwayne John Davis.

I saw the surname, then checked the address. Davis Road, Ten Mile Creek.

His date of birth made him⁠—

“CJ’s father,” Terrell added, clearly watching me trying to join mental dots. “Got parole last Thursday.

Oh no.

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work.” Terrell sighed. “CJ’s one of yours, yeah?”

I nodded. “And he’s a good guy. He works hard, looks after his sick grandfather, and does yard work for his boss. Doesn’t get paid to do it. Just does it because his boss can’t.”

Terrell made a face. “The Davises have been through this office forever. All of them. Long before I started.”

“All of them?”

“The brothers. CJ’s older brothers.”

I’d read CJ’s file, but there was nothing about siblings. I think I remembered CJ mentioning them . . . “How many are there?”

“CJ’s got four brothers.”

“Four?”

“All of them are in jail. I highly doubt they’ll ever get out. Two had their sentences added to for violent crimes inside.” Terrell shrugged. “Victims of the system. They never redeemed themselves or learned from their mistakes. They went from bad to worse. The other one was already doing fifteen years for aggravated assault; got into a bar fight and the guy he punched the shit out of died from his head injuries.” Terrell visibly shuddered.

Fuck.

I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I saw CJ on Friday. He never mentioned his father.” Then again, why would he? It wasn’t like I knew him. We weren’t friends . . . Then I remembered. “Actually, the meeting before last, he said he’d prefer it if I just did work calls. No home visits. He told me it upsets his Pops, but I wonder if it’s because he knew his father would be there.”

Terrell sat back in his chair. “Dwayne is on my books. Dave thought it’d be better if I handled him, given you haven’t been here long.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“I gotta go up and see him later this arvo. Did you want to reschedule your appointment with CJ this week? We could go up together; kill two birds with one stone.”

“Sure.” I swivelled my computer screen around to show him. “I was just researching apprenticeships for CJ, actually. Thought I’d see if I can convince him to get qualified.”

A slow smile spread across Terrell’s face.

“What?” I asked, pretending to look in my breast pocket, then under my desk. “Is my newbie status showing?”

Terrell laughed. “It is. But don’t ever lose it. I wish everyone still had it.”

I sighed again. “They’ve all got potential, ya know? I hate that they feel forgotten or cast aside. They’re still people.”

Terrell’s smile took on a sad edge, but he nodded. “Do me a favour. Don’t lose sight of that.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“So? After lunch okay to head up to see the Davises?”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

Terrell drove, and as we turned off the main road into Ten Mile Creek, he said, “Let me lead this one, yeah?”

I gave him an odd look. “Okay.”

“You can still talk to CJ, of course. But Dwayne ain’t gonna be too happy to see me, just so you know.”

“You expect him to fight?”

“No, nothing like that. But don’t expect a warm welcome.”

I held up the folder in my hand. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be popular either.”

Terrell chuckled, and we drove in silence until we pulled up in front of their house. He sighed deeply and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well, no putting this off, I guess.”

I got out of the car and saw CJ in the shed at the side of the house. He must have been working on his bike or mower because he came out wiping his hands on a rag. He looked a mix of curious as to what two of us were doing there and angry that we were.

“Hey CJ,” I said with a smile. I didn’t want him to assume we were here for bad news.

He lifted his chin in that nod or acknowledgement way he did. He looked at Terrell, then spoke to me. “What’s this for?”

Terrell answered. “Your father in?”

CJ’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

“He’s not in any trouble,” I said quietly. “Just a routine check. Your dad’s first check since his release.”

CJ’s face was hard to read. “Right.”

I gave Terrell a nod. “Should we do this inside?” Which was really just me asking if he wanted me inside with him when he met Dwayne.

“Sure,” he said.

I turned to CJ. “It won’t take long.” I held my hand out, gesturing for him to lead the way and go inside first.

He sighed heavily and reefed the front door open and walked inside. “POs are here.”

Terrell and I followed him in. Pops was in his recliner chair, and a man who I assumed to be CJ’s father stood in the kitchen doorway, stubby of beer in hand.

He was a stocky man with short greying hair and a hard, lined face. He wore tracksuit pants and a dirty white singlet, which showed poorly done tattoos on his arms and hands. He had a tear tattooed below his left eye.

Terrell smiled and stuck out his hand. “Mr Dwayne Davis? Terrell Craigie. I’m your corrections officer.”

Dwayne reluctantly shook Terrell’s hand and grunted in response.

I offered my hand to him. “Noah Huxley. I’m here to see CJ.”

He shook my hand and his grip was hard and rough. “Well, ain’t this cosy,” Dwayne said.

His teeth looked like the keys on a piano. There were more gaps than there were teeth. Terrell didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, well, we thought we’d kill two birds with one stone, then we can leave ya’s alone for the rest of the week.” He gestured to the two-seater. “Can we take a seat?”

Dwayne took a step back into the kitchen. “In here’d be better.”

“Oh sure,” Terrell said and walked into the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed a small table in there before, but they both pulled out a chair each and I stood in the small lounge room like a sore thumb.

“Come in, take a seat,” Pops said.

I gave him a smile. “Thanks.”

I sat on the sofa. “How’ve you been?”

“Yeah, all right.” He still wheezed when he breathed, but he didn’t sound any worse. And he certainly didn’t appear to be upset, like CJ had implied when he said he’d prefer I didn’t come around again. “You know,” Pops continued with a smile, “you look comfortable here.”

What an odd thing to say. “Comfortable?”

“Like you don’t mind it.” Pops wheezed some more and I waited for him to continue. “We’ve had all sorts here, parole officers, home nurses, doctors. None of them like it too much. Sit where you’re sittin’ and look like they’re too good for it, know what I mean?”

“Your house?” I clarified. I looked at CJ, who was still standing at the front door, then back to Pops. “Reminds me of the house I grew up in. I ain’t too good for anything, Pops. We’re not that different.”

I didn’t know why I said that. Why I admitted that much. Giving that much of myself away wasn’t in any plan of mine. I could feel CJ’s eyes burning into me but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him just yet, so I concentrated on Pops. “Weather not too cold for you yet?”

“Nah. CJ looks after me. Makes sure I’m warm.”

My gaze shot to CJ and I gave him a smile. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear that.” I could hear Terrell and Dwayne going through their questions and answers and I knew they’d be a little while yet. “CJ, maybe you and I should talk outside?” He didn’t speak, just turned on his heel and walked out the front door. I stood up, patted Pops on the shoulder. “You take care.”

He smiled up at me. “You’re a good lad.”

I went outside with the manila folder still in my hand and found CJ back at the shed. It was his bike he’d been working on. It was up on an old drum can so both wheels were off the ground. He stared at me, put a cigarette between his lips, and lit it.

“Should you be smoking near that?” I nodded toward the bike. “Fuel or whatever.”

He blew smoke upwards. “What do you want?”

Well, here went nothing. He hadn’t told me to fuck off yet, so I figured now was my chance. “I’ve been doing some research into apprenticeships.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And I reckon you’d be a good candidate for a mechanic⁠⁠⁠—⁠”

“No.”

“They have these programs these days that help⁠⁠⁠—⁠”

“No.”

“You could be qualified⁠⁠⁠—⁠”

“What part of no don’t you under-fucking-stand?”

I sighed. “CJ, I can help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“If it’s because of the paperwork involved, I can help you with that.”

He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw bulged. “I said I don’t want your help.”

“But you didn’t give me a good enough reason.”

“Because fuck you, that’s why.”

I tried not to smile and stayed silent for a while. I needed to change the subject. “What’s it like to have your dad home?”

Something flashed in his eyes, just for a second, before it was gone. He shoved the cigarette back to his lips and drew hard on it. “’S all right. Why?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought you and Pops had a good thing going, that’s all. It’s not easy when things change.” I figured I’d hit the nail on the head with that because he stayed silent and didn’t tell me to fuck off.

“Did you mean what you said before?” he asked, flicking his cigarette butt away. “About growing up in a house like this?”

“Yep. I grew up in community housing.”

CJ chewed on his lip. He didn’t say anything for a long time but there was something different. A tiny part of his defensive wall was down. “How’d ya soccer match go?”

I was surprised he’d remembered, but I was glad that he had. “Good. We lost, but it was fun.”

“It was fun to lose?”

I snorted. “Yeah. Felt good to be part of something.”

He made a face and laughed me off. “Whatever.”

“You should come watch one time,” I offered, knowing damn well he never would. “Or play, even.”

He squinted at me. “Did you hit your head or something?”

I laughed, and as much as I wanted to stay and talk to him, I felt it was time to go. I waved my hand toward the house. “I should probably go see how Terrell’s getting on.”

CJ’s only response was a slight nod.

I took a step toward the house and stopped. I turned and stared at him and thought fuck it. I held up the manila folder. “Just hear me out on this apprenticeship deal. Listen to everything, and if you still want to tell me to fuck off, then you can. But just hear me out.”

I thought for a second that he would fly off the handle and hurl a bunch of profanities, but he didn’t. He shook his head and smiled. “You don’t know when to quit, do ya?”

I tried not to look too hopeful. “Nope.” Figuring this was my one and only chance, I opened the folder. “They have avenues now where you can get what’s called recognised prior learning, which means if Mr Barese’ll sign off on what you do every day, you’ll get passes on most of the subjects.”

“Mr Barese don’t have time⁠—”

“I’ve already asked him and he said yes.”

CJ raised an eyebrow that was as scary as it was perfect. “You did, huh?”

“Yep. Anyway,” I kept on going, “hopefully we can get it down to maybe sitting the final exam.”

And just like that, the mask was back. Cold, detached, defensive.

“But you can have what they call a ‘writer.’ So the test is verbal, and someone, this ‘writer’ writes down everything you say. You don’t have to read or write anything.”

He crossed his arms. “I ain’t fucking stupid.”

“Far from it. In fact, the reason you made it this far, I’d reckon, is because you’re smarter than most.”

His jaw bulged. “Made it this far?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t backing down on this. “You got this far through life dodging the need to read or write very well, and that takes a different kind of smarts. Not many people can do that.”

He was half a second away from telling me to fuck off.

“But you don’t have to anymore. I can help you. First, I’ll get you qualified. You’ll have a full mechanic qualification by the end of the year. Then,” I hedged, “we can start on the reading and writing.”

He stared, silent, angry.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, CJ.”

“Noah?” Terrell called out from the driveway. I hadn’t heard him come out.

“One sec,” I replied. I turned back to CJ. “You should know that you didn’t fail anything. You didn’t fail school. The education system failed you.”

His nostrils flared. “Fuck you.”

“No. Fuck them. Fuck them for not giving a shit. Fuck the world for dealing good people shitty hands.” I pointed my finger at his chest. “You deserve better. You deserve better than a fucked-up father who broke your arm when you were nine and fucking teachers who didn’t care if you turned up or not.” I’d said far too much, but he hadn’t punched me in the mouth yet, so I took it as a win. I looked him right in the eye. “You deserve better.”

With that, I turned and walked back to the car, adrenaline warring with resignation. I opened the door and took my seat and Terrell started the car. “How was the old man?” I asked, doing up my seatbelt.

“All right. Reckons he’s turned a new leaf, but the attitude hasn’t changed much.” He sighed. “I dunno. He’s got a real mean-bastard look in his eyes. What about CJ? Looked pretty intense between you two.”

I resisted the urge to groan. “I suggested the apprenticeship and pathways to recognised prior learning.”

“And?”

“And I’m pretty sure it’s a no.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Well, the words ‘fuck you’ don’t exactly say yes.”

Terrell stopped the car at the intersection to give way, right in front of the old, weathered, broken street sign that said ‘Davis Road.’ He stared at it for a long second. “What the hell does it take to break the cycle of Davis Row?”

I frowned and sighed, resigned. “I wish I knew.”

* * *

I tried hard not to think about CJ or to wish he’d call, but every so often a slither of dark eyes or a waft of cigarette smoke would assault my memory and he’d be in the forefront of my mind yet again.

He never phoned, not that I expected him to. But I hoped. And whether I hoped he’d call me for his benefit or mine was something I didn’t want to examine too closely.

By the time Saturday came around, I was keen to put on my soccer boots and really keen for a night out. I needed to de-stress, and sweating it out on the soccer field and having a few beers afterwards was the perfect fix.

We lost the match by one goal, but we held our defence well and passed the ball around pretty good. For a team of mismatched newbies, we did all right. It was good for a laugh anyway and the constant running pushed my legs and burned my lungs in a feels-good way. By the time we were back at the pub I couldn’t even remember the stressful week I’d had.

I sipped my beer. “Man, that tastes good.”

“Yeah, you up for a session?” Gallan slid in beside me.

“Could be. Had a pretty shit week. A few drinks sounds pretty bloody great.”

He nodded and sipped his beer. “I know what you mean.” He launched into his description of shift work and a hard boss, which didn’t sound all too pleasant either. “Though it ain’t really my boss’ fault. He’s got his bosses breathing down his neck.”

“My boss is okay,” I said. “Actually, they’re all okay. Some of the people I work with are a bit jaded but most are in it for the right reasons. And most of the cases I have are fine, but then there’s some that just don’t want help. It’s really frustrating.”

And just like that, I was thinking about CJ again.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine doing what you do.” Gallan nudged his knee with mine under the table where no one else could see. “But a few beers tonight sounds like a real good plan.”

Okay, so things with him were definitely headed in a personal, possibly physical direction. And maybe I needed that more than the beers. Maybe I needed to hook up with Gallan to get CJ out of my head. Which was ridiculous, because there was nothing between me and CJ, there couldn’t ever be something between me and CJ, but damned if my short-sighted brain could tell my heart that.

And Gallan was a good-looking guy. Not my usual type, but he was kinda cute and he was looking at me every so often like he wanted to undress me. I paced the beers and ordered some food for our table to share. Most of the guys had gone home by the time the sun had set and our conversations were getting louder and funnier and I had a heady buzz. I didn’t think I’d stopped smiling and it had been so long since I’d been out and had a laugh.

But then Tony stood up. “Better get home or I’ll be in the doghouse. You guys wanna share a cab?” Tony asked.

“I will,” Davo said, then downed the rest of his beer and got to his feet.

“Nah, I’m right,” I replied.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Gallan added.

Then it was just me and him.

He looked around the pub, at all the average fellas just having a drink and a chat. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place where we could do anything . . . Then he leaned in and asked, “Wanna go down to the HQ?”

I smiled. Yep, something was definitely gonna happen tonight. “Yes, I do.”

We finished the last of our beers and walked the few blocks down to the HQ. Maitland’s only gay bar wasn’t exactly pumping at seven on a Saturday night, but it wasn’t dead. We ordered a Jim and Coke each and took a tall table near the back.

“Soooo,” he hedged. “Gay? Bi? Curious?”

“Gay. You?”

“Same.”

“So, are you out?” he asked point blank.

I sipped my bourbon. “Yeah. You?”

He nodded. “Mostly. I don’t make a point of bringing it up in conversation, but if someone asks, I don’t hide it.”

I didn’t want to get into the whole family thing. “No one at work’s asked me yet,” I said with a smile. “But yeah, I have no problem with telling them either.”

He leaned in closer. “Can I ask . . . top or bottom?”

I almost choked on my drink. “Jeez. You just jump right in, don’t you?”

He laughed. “Figure there ain’t no point in beating around the bush. I’ve been trying to figure out which way you’d go, but I can’t get a read on you.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in me, but all I could do was laugh. In the end, I told him, “I’m vers. I do prefer to top, but if a guy knows what he’s doing, then I’ll ride cock for days.”

Gallan busted up laughing. Like, so loud that others stopped and stared. “Oh, I like you.”

It was weird, and as much as I liked him too, there were no sparks. No hint of anticipation, no nerves, no physical attraction, no . . . anything. I felt like I was out having drinks with an old friend. Which was nice, but it fell far short from hook-up material.

I drained my drink. “Want another one?” I asked.

His eyes were smiling or swimming, with alcohol, I wasn’t sure. “Why not.”

I bought that round, then two songs later, he bought the next. More people were filing in, but I was a bit too drunk to notice, apart from the jostling of bodies and the noise. But I was feeling pretty damn good. “’S my shout,” I said. “Want another one?”

Gallan, who was a smiley drunk, shrugged then grabbed my hand and led me toward the backroom. I went willingly. More than willingly. His hand was warm and strong and I wanted that human contact. Needed it. It had been far too long.

The backroom was lined with bench seats, hidden nooks for privacy, and lit with blue lights. He crowded me against a wall, his eyes intense, and he licked his lips. I waited for the thrill, the expectancy, the pre-kiss butterflies. My lips parted, he kissed me, and . . .

Nothing.

Gallan pulled away with a look on his face like he couldn’t remember if he left the stove on. It made me laugh.

A slow, somewhat confused smile spread across his face. “You felt nothing, right?”

“Absolutely zilch. Nada.”

“Oh, thank God. Or that could be awkward because that was like kissing my cousin.”

I snorted. “Kiss your cousin often?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Never. But we’re good, right?”

I pushed off the wall. I wasn’t even disappointed. “We are good.”

“Thank God, because it’s your shout.”

I laughed and pushed his shoulder toward the door, just as it swung open and someone came barrelling in, almost collecting me. And I found myself staring into dark brown eyes and the subtle smell of cigarettes.

And every response that had been missing with Gallan bombarded me. My blood ran hot, my nerves zinged with desire, and butterflies exploded in my belly. He was right there, almost touching me. My breath caught and I licked my bottom lip.

“Noah,” he said, his voice low and laden with warning.

I fisted his shirt and pushed him against the wall. “CJ.”