“You’re different.”

Jamie dished out a bowl of chicken noodles and set it in front of Zac, nudging the plate of thickly buttered bread along the breakfast bar. “Why? Because I’m clean?”

“You’ve been clean for two years.”

“You haven’t seen me in two years.”

Zac snorted. “Whose fault is that?”

There was a bite in Zac’s tone that Jamie wasn’t used to from Marc. In years gone by, he’d have reacted in kind, or rolled over and fixed another hit, but life had moved on, and so had they.

Jamie claimed his plate and sat opposite Zac. “Sorry, mate. We did Skype, though.”

“Eighteen months ago. I was starting to think you hated me.” Zac poked his noodles with a fork. “What is this? Posh Super Noodles?”

“Pretty much. I make them at Sheila’s kitchen, and they were the closest thing I could find to the dinners you used to make me.”

“It looks a million times better than the crap I used to cook. Liam does all the cooking at home. I feed the dogs and order the pizza.”

“Marc would eat toast every day if I let him.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jamie eyed his supper. He’d been starving when he’d started cooking, but being around Zac had put him on edge. Two hours in, and he still wasn’t sure if Zac wanted to hug him or stab him. “So . . . uh, how’s Marvin? I haven’t heard from him since I came here.”

“He’s fine,” Zac said in a neutral tone that scraped Jamie’s teeth. “Missing you, I reckon, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. That bloke was in love with you.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Yeah? And how’d you know that?”

Jamie shrugged. “Because I wasn’t in love with him, and that shit ain’t real unless it’s shared.”

“Is that why you haven’t contacted him? Because you had feelings for him that weren’t real?”

“No. I just know Marvin, and he needed a clean break. He spent so long taking care of me that he saw something that wasn’t there.”

Zac stuck a forkful of noodles in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. His familiar green gaze was as shrewd as it had ever been, but for the first time in years, Jamie met it with no shame for whatever answer he’d give to Zac’s inevitable probing question.

“Do you love him?”

“Who? Marvin?”

“No. Marc . . . unless you have another grizzly soldier bear stashed away somewhere.”

“No, it’s just him.” Jamie’s heart did a warm and gentle cartwheel, helped along by the softening in Zac’s beautiful face. “He’s everything.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Zac said. “I never pictured you with someone so—”

“Don’t say old. He hasn’t got that many years on Liam.”

Zac grinned. “I was going to say together, but I might’ve realised how stupid it was in time. I guess I still see you as you were back then, you know? I don’t give you enough credit for how far you’ve come.”

From Zac, the sentiment meant the world, because there was no one who’d been hurt more by Jamie’s addiction. Except you. But for once, Jamie ignored the therapist who’d taken up residence in his brain. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Everything?”

“If that was necessary, I should be thanking you too.”

“Why?”

Zac shrugged. “Things happen. If we hadn’t done what we’d done, we wouldn’t be where we are now. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t change my life for the world.”

As if Jamie could argue with that. “Are you happy?”

“I am, Jamie. Are you?”

* * *

Jamie padded naked through the ground floor of the house. The flagstones were cold against his bare feet, especially with the frost that had arrived with dusk, but he’d turned up the stove and it wouldn’t be long until the house was toasty warm.

In the bedroom, he found Marc naked too, stretched out on his front reading, his prosthesis propped against the bed. Jamie moved it to the chair where it lived when he was around to take care of anything Marc might need, and then clambered over Marc, pressing their bare bodies together. He wound his arms around Marc’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Marc chuckled. “You’re welcome, though I’m not entirely sure what for.”

“For today.”

“I spent all night in the pub with your best friend’s boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh, and my best friend wouldn’t have been here if you hadn’t invited him.”

“Ah.” Marc rolled over and gripped Jamie’s hips to keep him in place. “Well, I got the feeling that you didn’t want to go and visit him in Norfolk. Was I right?”

Jamie nodded. “I can’t go back there, even if it’s to Liam’s eco-mansion miles away from where I used to be. It haunts me, that place . . . still.”

“But you can handle it, though.”

“I can.” And Jamie believed his own words as much as Marc apparently did. Six months of hard-core OCD therapy had rewired his every thought. The anxiety and resulting urge to ritualise remained—and likely always would—but his ability to think around it grew stronger every day. “Did you have fun with Liam?”

“I did, actually. Having a knees up with him was just what I needed after spending the day on the physio ward with Wedge. Liam’s a sound guy, and he gave me lots of tips for keeping up with younger fellas.”

Jamie laughed. “Zac talked about fucking a lot too. Are we a bunch of perverts?”

“Maybe.” Marc’s grin was a mile wide, but then he sobered. “Liam really loves Zac, in case you were worried about that.”

“I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. That kid is beautiful, and he’s kind . . . I can tell. I can see why you were in love with him for so long.”

Jamie dragged idle fingers over Marc’s cock, watching, awed as ever, as it hardened from the brief touch alone. “I do love him, but I was never in love with him. I thought I was because he was all I had, but it wasn’t real. None of it was, except the bad stuff. And we’ve left that behind. Both of us. He loves Liam, and I love you. Um . . . Marc?”

“Yeah?

“Can I fuck you?”

In answer, Marc widened his legs and brought them to his chest while Jamie reached over and grabbed the ever-present bottle of lube from the bedside table, his every nerve already on fire. Fucking Marc—fucking anyone—was a relatively new experience. But he knew how lucky he was, how privileged, to slowly drive his cock inside Marc, and love him in a way that few men had before him.

Fucking like this was quiet and tender. Jamie sank down to kiss Marc, and the kiss went on and on, never breaking until Marc shuddered and came with a low, ragged groan that pushed Jamie over an edge so sweet that he didn’t want to claw his way back.

But he was done fighting reality. He came to his senses to find himself on his back, Marc on top of him, showering him with the love and affection that had given him the drive to bring himself back to life. He grabbed Marc’s face and yanked him down so he could press their foreheads together. “Thank you.”

“What the hell for now?”

“For letting me love you so much. I’d live my life a hundred times over to get to this point again.”

Marc smiled and fell smoothly to the side, rubbing the marbled stump on his left leg. “Does that mean it’s your turn to make a cuppa? I don’t feel like walking anymore today.”

Jamie punched Marc’s rock-solid arm, but inside he was dancing. A new life with Marc had taught him to have faith and trust in his own strength. But Marc had been on a journey too. Six months ago, the easy admission to being in pain wouldn’t have happened. Had they healed each other? Probably not, but Marc’s place in Jamie’s heart was etched in stone. Years ago, he’d rented his body to the lowest bidder, but now and forever, his soul was Marc’s to keep.

FURTHER READING

Marc first appeared in my military novel, Between Ghosts, which is Nat and Connor’s love story. Read on for an excerpt, and to check out Rented Heart, where we first met Jamie.