Solace

H
e knew it was wrong
. He could feel it with every step. But it didn’t stop him from closing in, stalking toward Aaron like a predator on the hunt. “I know you don’t wanna mix business with pleasure. I get it. But I’ll be real with you…” He paused then, so close that his shuddering breath made gooseflesh appear on Aaron’s neck. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

This close, he could feel the heat radiating from Aaron’s body; could see the muscles in his jaw tense as he swallowed hard. Shane leaned in that much closer, his lips grazing Aaron’s neck. He felt the fine tremble, felt it grow into a shudder as his tongue darted out to touch skin.

“I wanna feel you wrapped around my cock. Wanna hear you moan my name,” he said, his voice pitched in a low murmur.

“Shane…”

Shane grinned against his skin. “Just like that.”

His teeth edged along the line of muscle that corded in Aaron’s neck. He heard the other man gasp, felt him tilt his head just so. Not to block him, but to give him better access. It was permission to continue, but something inside Shane told him he needed to be sure. He’d hate himself tomorrow if he had any doubts about Aaron wanting him; wanting this.

Hell, he might hate himself either way. But he had never forced himself on anyone, and he wouldn’t start now.

“But if you don’t want me, this doesn’t go any further,” he said, his tone sobering.

He could feel Aaron’s pulse, thundering right along with his own. He wanted to pull back and look into the man’s eyes; see the desire there, burning hot. But he was too afraid of seeing something else. Disgust. Dismissal. Some sign that Aaron didn’t want this, no matter what his body said. A clear rejection that would cut through his lust and leave him with the gnawing emptiness he’d felt before Aaron came over.

But when Shane finally forced his gaze to meet Aaron’s, all he saw was that same heat he could feel surging through his own body. Every muscle in him tensed. It wasn’t an answer. Not yet. And so he waited on the verge of agony until Aaron set trembling fingers on his chest. Shane kept his breathing measured, waiting even longer until that touch became a slow, deliberate caress.

It was the answer he’d been looking for, and he closed the gap between them, crushing his lips to Aaron’s. His hands moved down to Aaron’s ass in an effort to bring him even closer, but Aaron’s hands were underneath his shirt, pulling it up. He let out a growl as he was forced to separate from the man, but flung the shirt away quickly so he could return to Aaron’s mouth.

Shane had known Aaron wouldn’t be passive. Despite how much he seemed to second guess himself in crowds, there was a passion in him that Shane knew could be fanned into a frenzy; a fire that threatened to consume him. Even now, Aaron’s hands were all over him, and when his thumb stroked over the flat of one of Shane’s nipples, the sensation went straight to Shane’s cock. He let out a growl, pressing his body to Aaron’s, pushing him back against the wall. He pinned Aaron’s hands above his head, then went on the offensive, unimpeded in his quest.

Once Aaron’s shirt was gone and his fly was undone, Shane sank straight to his knees, barely feeling the hard jolt of the floorboards beneath the carpet.

“What…”

Shane didn’t answer with words. Instead, he yanked Aaron’s pants down and set his mouth to the bulge in his briefs, reveling in the gasp he wrested from Aaron’s lips.

This was exactly what he needed. This frenetic dance that satisfied some deep hunger inside of him and kept his darkest thoughts at bay, if only for a little while. It was the definition of self-destruction, but right now, he didn’t care.

S
hane Carter drove
his rusty Ford down Grove Street for the first time in over thirteen months. The muffler wasn’t doing its job, so the knock of a diesel engine tore through the otherwise quiet street. But he’d only asked his neighbor to start her up every now and again and make sure her tank didn’t dry up. Now that he was home for good, he’d have to take care of the tune-up himself.

But there was one thing he had to do first. Really, one thing he had to do before anything else, aside from dropping his shit off at home and taking a quick shower to wash off the airplane smell.

He had to see his daughter.

The occasional Skype call on a shitty satellite connection wasn’t good enough. He needed to see her smile light up the whole world. To feel her wrap her arms around his middle and cling to him like she needed him as much as he needed her.

It was selfish. But she’d always been the center of his universe. The anchor that kept him from just floating off into an endless sea. During his worst days, he’d been able to look at her picture and think about what it would mean to come home.

Turning onto Holden Drive, he recognized the house immediately. It was a house he and Shell had picked out after they’d realized an apartment just wasn’t going to cut it. Still a rental, as far as he knew. They’d planned to move on from there when his parents made their inevitable transition down to Florida with the promise to leave them their house.

That house had been empty for the last three years or so, and Shell and Becca still lived here. Without him.

But apparently not on their own. As he pulled up to the house, he saw a Chevy parked beside Shell’s Corolla.

Not a bad-looking truck, all things considered, but Shane was a Ford man through and through. And, worse than that, he didn’t know of any of Shell’s friends who would drive a truck.

Of course, it had been a long time. She might have new friends. There might be a lot of new things in her life, and Shane had no right to question any of it, even when those things might affect Becca. He knew that, and still the feeling gnawed at him, threatening to tear a hole through his gut. He felt like his insides were corroded and just waiting to crumble into ash.

Shane drew in a deep breath and let it out. He didn’t buy into the meditation shit Denise always told him to do, but breathing was easy enough, and he forgot to do it a lot of the time.

Killing the ignition, he stepped out onto the curb. It was weird that Becca wasn’t already rushing out to greet him. He’d expected to be tackled by now. But one quick glance at his phone cleared up why. He was a little off on the time. She wouldn’t be home from school for another half hour or so.

He considered just dropping down his tailgate and waiting until she walked up from the bus stop, but he’d been raised better than that. He knew he should go say hello and catch up. Even if they weren’t married anymore, it wasn’t like they hated each other.

Well. Shane didn’t hate her. He was reminded with a sharp sinking feeling that Shell very well may hate him.

He’d faced danger nearly every day for the past eight and a half months, though. One face-to-face meeting with his ex wasn’t going to kill him.

He walked onto the porch, knocking three times in a heavy rap Shell would have recognized as his. It only took a few moments for the door to open, but it wasn’t Shell who greeted him.

Instead, he stood a couple of feet away from some prick with a farmer’s tan and a Grizzly Adams beard.

“Can I help you?”

The thick southern accent he’d been expecting didn’t come. The guy sounded less like an escaped convict and more like a college graduate. Which was more than Shane could say for himself.

Glass houses and all that shit.

“I’m Shane Carter,” he said, extending a hand.

The man didn’t offer his in return, and his neutral expression changed into something else.

“Becca’s dad.”

Shane curled his fingers against his palm. It was one thing to assume this guy was fucking his ex. But being on nickname terms with his kid? Not cool.

“Yeah. Becca’s dad,” he repeated mulishly.

“She isn’t here right now, and—”

“Is Shell home?”

The man put his arm against the doorframe, blocking Shane’s view inside the house. “She’s busy.”

He could see the tension in the stranger’s muscles. The way his eyes fixed on him. The hard set to his jaw. Shane’s stupid, fucked-up brain shot a jolt of adrenaline through his body, and his fist clenched harder.

“Look, man. I just got back from Afghanistan. I came over here first thing, and all I want to do is see my kid.”

He tried damn hard to keep the anger out of his voice, but he could practically hear the whoosh of his pulse pounding in his ears.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Long breath in. Long breath out.

Fuck this asshole.

“Shell!” He called, angling his shouts so she could actually hear him around the wall of muscle that stood in his way.

“I’m asking you nicely to leave. Don’t make me call the police.”

“Yeah, you go ahead and do that. Shell!”

He finally saw her come up the hallway. The look of surprise on her features was at least a little validating, but his stomach turned when he saw her put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Shane? I thought you were supposed to be in Afghanistan for another two months?”

“Things changed,” he said quickly, trying to force his voice back to something normal. “Can you explain the situation to your man here?”

“I know the situation,” he said, and Shane’s other hand clenched into a fist.

“I was talking to her, thanks.”

“Shane…” Her voice was quiet, and her gaze darted to the man who still stood in front of her. Something wasn’t right. “We talked about this.”

Shane remembered it differently. Shell had done most of the talking, and he’d… well, he’d accepted it with his tail between his legs, and then he’d gotten the fuck out of the country.

“That was over a year ago. I’m better now.” He wasn’t. “You know I’d never let anything like that happen again.” He didn’t know if he could make that promise, except that he’d rather die than repeat his mistake.

Shell looked up at him with her big green eyes. It was the expression she used on him when she wanted something, and she almost always got it. Right now, she wanted him to go away, though, and she wasn’t going to get that.

“You should’ve called first,” she said. “Maybe sometime next week we can—”

“Next week?!” Shane couldn’t stop his voice from rising. “Rebecca’s the only thing that’s kept me going for the past year. I’m not asking you to hand her over to me, Shell. For fuck’s sake, I just want to see her.”

Shell looked up at the man Shane was already beginning to hate as if asking permission to have a different opinion. Fuck that. If this guy was hurting her—and especially if he was hurting Becca—Shane would—

The man reached out and put a hand on Shane’s shoulder, and a switch flipped inside of him. Danger. Threat. No time to think. No time to waste.

Shane barely heard the cry of pain as he wrenched the man’s hand off him. He barely heard Shell call his name as he grabbed the man and shoved him toward the nearest wall.

When the enemy closed in, you didn’t have time to wait until they got the first strike. It was their life or yours.

Only… this man wasn’t his enemy. He was just a jackass. And this wasn’t a war zone. It was the middle of suburbia. But still Shane’s instincts ruled his actions. It wasn’t until a picture frame fell to the ground, glass shattering loudly, that he regained control of himself.

A cold wash of awareness flooded his veins. He was shaking from the sudden surge of adrenaline, and he felt disoriented.

“Get the fuck off of me, asshole!”

“David, enough.”

The man, David, shoved him backward, but this time Shane didn’t react. His world had entered a hazy state, his ears ringing like someone had thrown a frag grenade right next to him.

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of here before I have you arrested for assault.”

“This is why, Shane,” his ex-wife said, her voice on the edge of tears. “This is why you should’ve called. Why we should’ve talked about this and planned it out.”

She made it sound like there was going to be a next time. Shane knew better than that. He saw that look in her eyes. The mother of his child didn’t trust him.

And he didn’t trust himself.

He stumbled backward from the door, barely cognizant of his motions. His legs carried him to his truck. His hand turned the key in the ignition. His foot hit the gas.

He drove to the other side of the block, and when the schoolbus passed him, his heart clenched in his chest. He wanted to get out and flag it down. Wrap up his daughter in a hug and never let her go.

But instead he parked where she couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see her. He parked and he sat, still shaking.

* * *

I
t took
a good half hour before he could get his shit together. At least enough to grab his phone. He hit two on his speed dial and waited until a familiar voice answered.

“Hey, asshole. Why aren’t you already over here? I’ve got a burger with your name on it.”

“It happened again.”

His voice sounded like someone else’s. It was worse than neutral. It was just… dead.

It only took the woman on the other end of the line a moment to realize what he meant.

“Shit, Carter. Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

“I’m a block away from Shell’s house.”

“…Shit.”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a ragged breath. He dragged a hand over his face, and all the emotion he’d forced out of himself came rushing back. “What am I going to do, Denise? She wouldn’t let me see Becca, and I just…” He didn’t need to say what he’d just done. Denise understood. “Now she has every reason not to let me see her ever again. God, I fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” she said, then quickly amended it. “I mean… Yeah, you fucked up. But you didn’t fuck everything up. Until Michelle files for full custody, you still have a chance.”

Anxiety rose in a surge, rushing a hint of bile into his throat. Good thing he hadn’t eaten anything on the plane.

“I’ll lose, Denise. You know I’ll fucking lose.”

“I’m not going to bullshit you. If you don’t get help, yeah. You’ll lose.”

Shane swallowed hard, his free hand gripping the steering wheel as if it was going to help keep his world from careening into darkness.

“I can’t do therapy again. It doesn’t work.”

“Shane…”

Denise had strong opinions about getting help. But just because it had worked for her, it didn’t mean it would work for him. He already knew it wouldn’t.

“There has to be something else.”

She sighed, and he expected her next breath to be used to tell him he was a fucking idiot and that he needed to get his ass down to a shrink’s office ASAP. But apparently he was getting the patient version of Denise. The Denise who wanted to be a mom one day. Not the Denise who could tear a two-hundred-pound man a new asshole.

“Robbie told me they’re promoting some new program at the VA. Some kind of therapy dog thing. Babe, where’s the pamphlet for that?” He heard her ask, the words muffled. After a moment, she returned. “It’s being run by Paws For Hope, Friday at four o’clock. Maybe they can help you.”

Maybe. Shane didn’t have a lot of hope that a dog was going to somehow turn that switch in his brain back off. But at least with a dog he didn’t have to confess his deepest, darkest fears.

“Promise me you’ll do this. Because if you don’t I will kick your ass.”

That was the Denise he knew and loved. The corner of his mouth managed to quirk up for half a second despite his stormy mood.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Sit tight, I’m getting in the car now. I’ll give you the info when I get there.”

He heard the dinging of her car door, and let out a shaky breath. He shouldn’t need his best friend to come get him and stop him from doing something stupid.

But God was he glad she would do it anyway.