Solace (17 page)

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without both of you,” he admitted.

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Richard said, squeezing his shoulder.

“I know you do,” Shane said.

And for once, he didn’t feel like he was just being propped up by people who pitied him. He’d made it to the top of the mountain already. They were just standing beside him, making sure he didn’t let himself slide backwards.

It had been a long time since he’d buckled under the oppressive weight of his father’s expectations. But now he was finally beginning to feel like he’d shaken off a few of his own.

I
t was amazing
to see the change in Aaron.

Shane had felt so frustrated and helpless at first, when it seemed like he wasn’t going to give himself the credit he deserved. But with a little help from Richard, he’d finally seen reason. He opened up, like the sun starting to peek out over the ridge. And then he’d just started to glow.

It had been almost three hours since he’d given the presentation, but Aaron still hadn’t lost that glow.

“I can’t believe how many people signed up. I expected a few. Maybe ten percent of the people that attended, if we were lucky. But this was unreal.”

“I can believe it. You’re doing a good thing,” Shane said patiently, because he’d said something similar earlier, the first time Aaron exclaimed his surprise over the numbers.

He didn’t mind indulging him, though. He didn’t mind at all.

“Oh God, we’re going to have to apply for more grants.”

Shane arched a brow, looking at Aaron out of the corner of his eye as he pulled into a parking space.

“Maybe I can work overtime,” Aaron continued. “Or do more one-on-one training. It won’t cut into our time, though.”

Leave it to Aaron to be concerned about him right now.

“Right now, you don’t need to be thinking about how you’re going to handle the demand. You just need to enjoy it. Even if you can’t personally help all the veterans who signed up today, you gave them an option they didn’t have before.”

“I’m sure they would’ve found it eventually,” Aaron said.

Shane reached over, squeezing his knee. “Soldiers can be pretty fucking stubborn. We’re taught to rely on ourselves and our brothers, and that’s it. It’s tough to admit you need help, let alone to seek it out. A lot of the people who came to you today wouldn’t have found this otherwise, I guarantee it.”

Aaron smiled, seeming to accept this. He placed his hand atop Shane’s, and threaded their fingers together. Shane’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he was suddenly reminded that this wasn’t supposed to be a reward for him.

He didn’t deserve this. Any of it.

Aaron let go of his hand long enough to lead him inside, but he took it again soon after.

“I have some beer in the fridge,” Aaron said. “I think it’s the brand you like. I can never tell the difference.”

Shane just watched him with no small amount of wonder as Aaron led him to the kitchen. That wonder didn’t dissipate when Aaron seemed to have some kind of an epiphany, leaning up to fetch something from the cabinet above the fridge.

“Actually, I have something better than beer.”

“No such thing,” Shane grumbled playfully.

But Aaron’s eyes were practically sparkling as he pulled down a bottle of wine. He didn’t explain immediately, he just grabbed two glasses from the same cupboard.

“I bought this a long time ago. I don’t even remember why now, but it just seemed like something I should have for a special occasion. I always figured I’d break it out for…” He blushed. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. It’s worth breaking open now.”

“You know I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”

“That works out fine for me, then. I don’t want you to leave me alone,” he said with a beaming smile.

It was said with such an innocence and optimism that Shane practically staggered. Somehow, in the course of a few months, Aaron had managed to turn his cynical view of the world upside down.

It was going to kill him to lose that.

“Um, think you can help me open it? These things always freak me out.”

Shane grinned. “Doing things that freak other people out is my specialty.”

He rooted around until he found the wine opener, then struck the end of it into the cork. With a bit of elbow grease, the cork popped out, and he poured the wine into the glasses.

“Got a speech prepared already?”

Aaron shook his head. “No more speeches. Let’s just toast to…” He drew his lip between his teeth. “Let’s just toast to accomplishing things that we never thought we would.”

Shane raised his glass, clinking it against Aaron’s. They drank the first sip, but before he could take another, Aaron grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the living room.

He’d been to Aaron’s place before, but this was different. The way Aaron looked at him now was different. That passion Shane had felt during his speech was still there in his eyes, but now it was directed at him.

He could already feel himself begin to respond, and he didn’t know if some lame-ass excuse was going to save him tonight. He didn’t know if he wanted to be saved. It was selfish, but there was some small shred of hope inside of him that hadn’t been snuffed out yet. Some small part that believed, maybe one day, that he could be worthy of Aaron’s affection.

To Aaron’s credit, he didn’t pounce immediately. They both had the chance to finish one glass of wine each, and Aaron flicked on the TV, though hell if Shane knew what was on.

He was too busy watching Aaron, mesmerized by that confidence blossoming in him. It seemed to light him from within, drawing Shane in like a moth just begging to be burned.

And when Aaron leaned over and kissed him, he knew he was done for. One slow, tender kiss turned into another, and then another until what was happening between them was building a persistent flame.

Aaron’s hand moved to his chest, and his went to Aaron’s thigh. He was solid and real and Shane wanted to be consumed by the pure joy that shone through him.

So he surrendered.

He picked up Aaron and carried him to his room, and once they had nothing to focus on but each other, he tried to give the man even a small taste of the pleasure Aaron had given him just by being in his life.

It wasn’t enough, but Aaron didn’t ask for more. Even when they were curled up together afterward, sweat cooling on their bodies, their breaths falling into a slow rhythm, Aaron didn’t ask for anything from him.

But Shane wanted to give. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue.

I love you.

Because he did love Aaron. How could he not? Since he’d been pulled into the man’s orbit, his life hadn’t been the same.

He didn’t say it, though. And when Aaron looked at him with pure adoration in his eyes, it was more than Shane could take. He was afraid to hear those words from him, as much as his heart ached for them.

So he shut his eyes and, like the coward he was, allowed sleep to take him.

* * *

H
e was in Afghanistan again
, back at the base he’d shared with his unit and a few others.

Only there weren’t soldiers milling about, performing their daily tasks. Reynolds wasn’t heading out to service the vehicles, Taggart wasn’t taking inventory from the supply trucks.

There was no one. Just Shane.

When he looked down, he saw he wasn’t wearing his normal jeans, but his uniform.

It even smelled the same. He always expected a war zone to smell like gunpowder and death, and when the wind shifted, it did smell like that. But it also smelled like petroleum and machinery and sweat.

He drew in a breath, and his lungs burned with it. Enough that it made him cough, his hand moving over his chest to steady himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could recognize that this was a dream. He knew not to call out for anyone, but still the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt that forbidding sense of unease that made every step heavier than it should be.

He wasn’t sure what he was walking toward, only that he hadn’t stopped. And then he heard it. A sound in the distance that echoed off the landscape.

It was the sound of a dog barking.

No, not just any dog. It was Buttercup. And even though he knew he was dreaming, some part of his mind became frantic. He’d been discharged from the military. They wouldn’t send him out again.

But that was definitely Buttercup, and he had to get to her.

He broke into a run, and the scenery around him changed suddenly. He wasn’t at the base, with miles to go before he reached civilization. He was in the middle of a ruined landscape, and he’d just ducked through the door of a dilapidated house. One of the walls was blasted out from a mortar shell, and steam still rose off the rubble.

He shouldn’t be here.

But Buttercup barked again, and Shane reached for his gun. It wasn’t there. He had no way to protect himself, and there was no one here to have his back.

He kept close to the wall, more attentive than he’d ever been in his life. He was aware of every sound, every smell, every slight shift in his environment.

He crept forward, until the sound of the barking grew closer. His heart pounded in his chest, and sweat dripped into his eyes, nearly blinding him.

When he heard muffled whimpering behind a closed door, that dread tightened like a vice. It was a death sentence to search an unknown residence without a backup or even a weapon, but he had to save Buttercup. There was no other choice.

Summoning his courage, Shane thrust open the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming toward him. And then, at his flank, another person. Both were armed. Faceless, completely unidentifiable, but ready and willing to end his life.

He’d been ambushed.

Shane struck out, using everything he had to try and save himself. The men were on him in an instant, and all of the thrashing in the world couldn’t save him. He didn’t see the gun, he just felt the barrel of it against his temple.

“No!”

He sat up, his fingers gripping anything he could get a hold of. Sweat poured from his body, soaking into the sheets. His heart raced, and his lungs couldn’t get enough air.

Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. Maybe he’d been captured. Maybe—

A soft sound drew his attention to the present. He felt the weight on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw Buttercup practically laying on top of him. One of his hands was balled in her fur, and as he felt the soft strands of hair underneath his fingers, his pulse slowly began resemble a normal heartbeat.

It had been a dream.

But from the burn in his muscles and the death grip he had on his dog, he knew he’d reacted as if it had been reality. In the dream, he knew he’d done everything he could to keep himself alive. He’d punched. He’d kicked. He’d clawed. He could still feel his hands wrapping around the neck of one of those faceless man.

It felt so real that…

Shane’s world suddenly stopped. His heart leapt into his throat and he looked beside him, praying he hasn’t done the unthinkable. But the sheets were bare. Bare and cool, and just as dread began to wash from his veins, he heard the door open.

“What happened?”

Aaron was dressed only in his boxers, and the look of concern on his face was so raw that Shane was sure he’d heard him thrashing about.

He couldn’t hide what had happened. He’d told Aaron he had nightmares, but he’d never really thought about the ramifications of them. When he was on his own, the worst he might do was split his head open on the side of his nightstand while leaping out of bed.

But with Aaron sleeping beside him, he was met with a far grimmer reality.

“Nightmare,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron came to bed immediately, his look apologetic. He reached out, and Shane flinched, then gave an apologetic look of his own. “Still pretty fresh.”

Aaron just nodded. “I was still a little wired from earlier, so I figured I’d screw around some in S&S until I got tired. I heard you shouting, and…”

Shane looked down. Buttercup was still laying atop him, refusing to move. It was as if she knew he wasn’t getting better. As if she knew he was never going to get better.

“It’s okay. Buttercup woke me up.”

There was a chance she might always wake him up before it got too bad. But there was just as likely a chance that she wouldn’t. That he’d wake up and see Aaron beneath them, his eyes wide with fear.

He couldn’t take that. He would never be able to live with himself if he hurt Aaron, even accidentally.

He was too broken.

As the reality of that revelation sunk like a stone in his belly, Shane started to find some peace with it. Buttercup wasn’t going to fix him. Aaron wasn’t going to fix him either.

It was time to accept that he was going to do more harm than good by sticking this out until Aaron realized what he was.

He had to end this now.

A
aron felt completely helpless
.

He shouldn’t have left Shane’s side. If he’d been there, maybe his presence would have helped soothe Shane enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

But that was naive and he knew it. As much as he wanted to help Shane, to take away his pain, his presence didn’t change anything that happened to him. It wouldn’t stop the nightmares. It might never stop them.

And because Shane didn’t want to talk about it, Aaron didn’t press. He’d disappeared into the bathroom for a long shower, and Aaron had decided to go and make himself useful.

It was early yet, but there was no law saying he couldn’t make breakfast for his boyfriend at three in the morning.

That’s what Shane was, wasn’t it? It was impossible to think otherwise, even if Shane hadn’t said so. And it wasn’t just the sex. He felt close to Shane in a way he’d never felt with anyone else.

He
loved
Shane.

And he wished he’d said something last night. Aaron didn’t dare believe that would have put him at ease, and maybe it wouldn’t have been welcome, but for a moment he swore he saw his own feelings reflected in Shane’s eyes.

He was a coward. He’d come so far, but he still couldn’t muster the courage to tackle the things that actually mattered.

He heard the shower turn off, and his heart started to race. He could tell himself that now wasn’t the time to confess his feelings, but was that really true, or just a convenient excuse?

When Shane appeared a few minutes later, his hair dark and wet, Aaron felt his heart flutter in his chest. He was used to that stab of lust every time he saw Shane, but this was different.

This was his heart—and maybe even his soul—demanding that Aaron say something.

But how?

“Breakfast will be done in a few, if you’re hungry.”

“Sure.”

Shane walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then went about fixing it the way he wanted. There was no tender moment where Shane walked up behind him and kissed his neck. No shock of heat as he pressed his body to Aaron’s.

Shane didn’t even smile, and the one word he did say was said without the barest hint of emotion.

It made Aaron feel uneasy, but he tried not to let it gnaw at him. Shane was probably never going to be a demonstrably affectionate guy, and he’d had a rough night.

He finished breakfast, putting a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of Shane before fixing himself one, too. Shane flicked lazily through his phone while he ate, and what should have been companionable silence just continued to set Aaron’s nerves on edge.

“Anything interesting?”

“Looks like Activision’s making a play for S&S,” he said, his voice still devoid of emotion.

Aaron groaned. “Great. How much do you want to bet they’ll turn it into a pay-to-win game?”

“Probably.”

Aaron picked at his eggs, frowning. He couldn’t describe Shane’s behavior as prickly. He’d seen Shane when he was prickly. This was… apathy.

And it scared him more than anything else.

“Any more news on the hearing?”

Shane just shrugged, swallowing his bite of toast before answering. “Lawyer sent me a thing saying what to expect. Just wish it’d get here sooner so I’d know one way or the other.”

“Just a couple of weeks,” Aaron said, reaching out to touch Shane. He remembered the way he’d flinched last night, though, and thought better of it. “There’s no way the judge won’t grant you partial custody.”

No half-smile. No scoff. There was nothing. Shane just chewed and stared at his phone, and Aaron felt the pit in his stomach open wider.

“I don’t… want to push you. I know you probably need time. But if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Sure.”

The answer was quick, and it sliced through Aaron like a dagger straight to the heart. His breath fled from his lungs, and any warmth that’d been left in him escaped with it.

Now he just felt cold. And empty.

“Don’t do that.”

The words fell out of his mouth before he’d even thought them through, but he wasn’t going to take them back. In fact…

“Don’t act like you’re fine, and don’t pretend like it doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“I’m not pretending,” Shane said, his tone icy.

That struck him, lodging the dagger even deeper. Who
was
this man?

“What the hell is wrong with you, Shane?”

“You want me to make a list? Because it’ll probably take a while.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he shot back.

Shane just shrugged, shifting his attention back to that damn phone.

Fine. He understood this. He didn’t like it. It hurt to think that Shane wouldn’t talk to him. But he understood it.

Pushing out from the table, he went to get his own phone, then texted Shane.

“Nothing to talk about,” Shane said brusquely.

Aaron just stared down at his phone, then at Shane. He wasn’t the type to lose patience; especially with Shane. But God. The tone of his voice…

“Okay,” he said after a breath. “You need some time. I understand.”

Shane didn’t respond to this, and something gnawed at Aaron. Some inherent desire to
fix
whatever was wrong. He parked himself in the chair again, and his whole being focused on Shane.

He could see it now. Shane was stiff. There was a raw pain in his eyes when he looked at Aaron, and he was lashing out like a wounded animal.

“I’m here for you when you need me, Shane,” he said quietly. “I’ll always be here. I…”

Shane’s gaze cut through him, half imploring and half… something else.

“I love you.”

This wasn’t how he’d intended to say it. In his dreams, they definitely hadn’t been in the middle of what Aaron could only describe as a fight.

But it was out there now, and he refused to take it back.

A sharper pain flashed across Shane’s features before he seemed to bury it. He set down his phone, then looked straight past Aaron.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. This doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to you.”

Aaron felt the bottom drop out of his reality. Everything he thought he knew was suspended in midair for one torturous second before it all began to plummet.

“You’re a good guy, and a good friend. I never wanted to hurt you. But I told you I didn’t do relationships with guys.”

“I don’t believe you,” Aaron said reflexively.

Shane wasn’t looking at him. Whatever this was—this vicious beast that had overtaken Shane and was in the process of ripping his heart out—it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the truth.

It couldn’t be.

But Shane met his gaze, and cold blue eyes bored into his.

“I never lied to you. I told you I was messed up. I told you I fucked guys to forget about the shit going on in my life. That’s all this was to me.”

To say Aaron took a step back wasn’t exactly the truth. It was more that he fell backwards, the chair scooting out of his way. His feet planted and he caught himself, but he still felt like he was sinking.

“I don’t believe you,” he repeated. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

Still Shane’s voice held no emotion, and his gaze was a wasteland, cold and barren. Shane stood up, and—as if he hadn’t just torn Aaron’s world apart—he picked up his plate, rinsed it in the sink, then put it away in the dishwasher.

Aaron watched all of this, rooted in place. He watched as Shane called for Buttercup. He watched, but he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

This man was a stranger to him. A complete and utter stranger.

“I’m sorry it had to end up this way. I never meant to hurt you.”

That was said in such a way that Aaron believed it might be true, and his hope sparked somewhere deep inside of him. As Shane started for the door, a part of him wanted to throw himself at his feet. To demand he stop whatever cruel game he was playing.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched him leave. Shane met his gaze, numbly, when that flicker of pain returned.

And when he heard Shane’s truck start in the parking lot, only then did his legs give out, leaving him crumpled on the floor.