THE PAIN THAT had flickered on Jackson’s face as I verbally slapped him and had him kicked out of the club had been almost enough to have me on my knees begging him for forgiveness. But then I remembered why I’d come out tonight, why there was no future between us, and Christ… I couldn’t deal with that right now. It was easier this way. Easier if he hated me and left me alone. A few more hours or days or whatever it was he wanted to give would only make it harder when he walked away.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself even as my heart seized in my chest, threatening to stop beating entirely.

Fuck. It would’ve been easier, so much easier, to find a random stranger to fuck. One like this twink I was dancing with, where I didn’t need his name. I didn’t need conversation. All I needed was the tight fit of an ass around my cock and the high that came with it.

All of that would’ve been preferable to facing my feelings head-on, and that summed me up good and well right there, didn’t it? That I was willing to risk the chance of a real something for a quick fuck to take my mind off my life for five minutes.

When had I become this man? That part was easy enough to answer. The transition into slut-who-didn’t-give-more-than-a-fuck had started after losing my parents, had blasted into full gear when I’d left my heart in Connecticut on Jackson’s doorstep, and had become complete with Gram’s death. Like it was anyone else’s fault but my own. I could blame every person who’d come and gone from my life all day long, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d done it, fucked myself into this shithole, to myself. That I thought so little of my worth that I’d based my value around other’s actions.

I pushed against the guy’s chest as I stumbled back, feeling dazed all of a sudden. “Not tonight,” I found myself saying, and he must’ve decided all the drama wasn’t worth it, because he was gone before I had to ask again. I debated briefly whether I needed to puke my insides out in the bathroom before deciding fresh air and a slice of humble pie were the better options.

I passed Bash and Shaw as I staggered through the crowd, and they wisely didn’t say a word, but I could feel their stares on my back as I headed toward the club’s exit. There was no way I could drive tonight, so I’d have to grab a cab and figure out where Jackson had run off to so I could—

I pushed open the door, and sitting across the alley against the brick wall with his arms on his knees was Jackson. He looked like hell, like he’d aged ten years in the minutes since I’d seen him, worry and sadness etched in the lines of his face, and his tie haphazardly thrown over the collar of his shirt. His eyes met mine, and then drifted past me as if to see whom I’d chosen to spend the rest of the night with, but as the door slammed shut behind me, and only me, relief filled his face.

Now that I was out here, where I wanted to be, I didn’t know what to say. An awkward silence filled the space between us, and Jackson got to his feet and brushed off his pants.

“I…thought you left,” I finally said.

“No.”

I looked down the alley to where a few small groups of people still lingered, far enough away to be out of earshot. “Out here hoping to get lucky, or—”

“Waiting for you.” Jackson took a step toward me. “Just you.” Another step. “Always you. Even when you’re a fucking prick.”

My eyes stung something fierce as he came even closer, and even harder when he reached out to cup the side of my face. I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes to keep the tears where they belonged. This, this right here, was what I’d been running from. The man comforting me now had the power to break me. How did I just drop all my defenses when he could change his mind any second? I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted.

“Me either. I don’t even know where to start. But Lucas, look at me.” I opened my eyes to see Jackson’s filled with understanding, and he held my face with both of his hands. “I know it’s stupid to keep pretending we don’t matter to each other. You can tell me all day long to fuck off, to go away, but I’m not going anywhere. I know you don’t mean any of those awful things you say, so stop fighting me. Please.”

The shame I felt in that moment as he saw right through me was one I’d remember forever. With Jackson’s hands holding me steady, forcing me to look him in the eyes, I had to face my demons, one by one, starting with my knee-jerk reactions, my viper tongue, my inability to let anyone in who had the power to hurt me… I didn’t deserve Jackson’s quick forgiveness or his compassion, but I needed it, just as much as I needed him.

“I’m sorry…” I said, trembling with the sincerity of my words, and clutched at his shirt, a silent begging. And then, to hell with being silent, because I needed his forgiveness more than I needed oxygen. “Jackson, I’m so sorry. You’re right; I didn’t mean any of those things I said. God, I’m so fucked up… Please…please forgive me. Tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely before we’ve even had a chance. Tell me you want to try and that I can be fixed. Tell me, Jackson, please.”

Jackson’s thumb brushed my cheek, and I could feel his eyes searching my face, even as I couldn’t bear to look up at him. Then he lowered his forehead to mine and whispered, “I forgive you. But Lucas, you’ve got to stop pushing me away.”

Hot tears trailed down my face as I stood there holding tightly to his waist, and Jackson’s arms provided the solace I needed to let down my walls. If anyone walked by and could see me now, they wouldn’t know who I was or what had gotten into me. But I knew. I’d always known.

Jackson Davenport had burrowed his way into my soul a long time ago, and damn if he hadn’t ever let go.