12. Aiden

Chapter Twelve

AIDEN

The laughter that bubbled up from Aiden's throat sounded thin and pitchy in his own ears. He cringed and backed away, putting some space between them before he did something he regretted. His lips still tingled with the phantom pressure of Seth's kiss.

"Sure, I get it," he said, choking on manic laughter.

"Aiden—"

"No, I really do get it. Not like I haven't heard that before." Aiden thrust a hand between them to stop whatever mollifying garbage he was about to dish up. Seth was a protector; it was his nature to be gentle with people. Even people like Aiden, who never asked for it.

Seth's expression was dark with regret. "That's not what I?—"

"I'm going to grab a shower before my shoulder locks up." Aiden cut him off before he could make it worse and turned away, fumbling with the button on his jeans before he realized they were already falling off. His hands were shaking, but he could pass that off as the lingering effect of his drafty trailer.

The cramped bathroom seemed even smaller than usual once he shut the door. The walls were closing around him like a coffin that smelled of cheap shampoo and a trace of damp pine from the makeshift towel rack he'd fashioned from scrap he'd picked up at work. The man watching him from the mirror could've been a corpse. He winced.

Christ, he knew how to pick his moments. He wasn't bad looking; he had the power to charm the pants off men and women with a little banter and the special grin that popped the dimple in his cheek. It was just play; nothing serious. But when it mattered—when it was someone important to him—he was flushed and sweaty with two days' worth of scruff on his chin. No wonder Seth had backpedaled so fast. As far as Aiden knew, Seth had never looked twice at a man before. He was right; they had no business fooling around. They'd barely reclaimed a shambling husk of their former friendship, and only because Aiden hadn't taken no for an answer. No way Seth would risk that for the haggard bastard staring back at Aiden from the mirror, not for something he could solve with his own right hand.

But knowing that didn't make swallowing the lump in his throat any easier.

He turned on the shower and let the water run until it steamed up the mirror and hid his reflection. Then he stepped beneath the hot spray, hissing as the pressure hit the knots in his shoulders. He hung his head, resting his forehead against the fiberglass and letting the water pound the tension from his sore muscles.

His thoughts chased each other in an endless loop like something out of an old cartoon. He kept replaying in slow motion the moment Seth's mouth touched his. Aiden had always been an indiscriminate kisser. All it took was a few beers and a dark corner, and he was happy to spend some time making a girl melt with only his lips. But because he was good at it, it always felt like he was the one doing the kissing. No one had ever kissed him , not like that, like he was worth taking the time to taste. It made him feel—made him wish?—

The soft click of the front door echoed over the rush of the shower, and Aiden's heart sank.

Seth was gone.

Well, why wouldn't he leave? He'd ignored Aiden's existence for years. Of course, he'd cut and run as soon as Aiden started complicating his life again.

"Damn it," he whispered, balling his hands into fists against the shower wall.

He finished his shower quickly after that, aiming only to rub some liniment into the shoulder he could barely reach, crack open a beer or five, and hit the sack. He wrapped a thin, scratchy towel around his waist and stepped into the tiny living area. The trailer was silent. Aiden dropped onto the edge of his unmade bed, staring down at the chilly linoleum beneath his bare feet. His mind felt blank.

"—made you his guard dog?"

Slowly, Aiden's head came up.

He recognized the jarring tone of his mother's disapproval. It was the soundtrack to his life. Barbara Doyle could sound disappointed placing a coffee order, all frosty tones and clipped consonants. She spoke like a wealthy socialite, not a woman who'd grown up in a podunk cowboy town before the invention of social media. She was probably arguing with the neighbors again.

He groaned and scrubbed his face in his hands, wanting nothing more than to lock the door and pretend he wasn't home.

"—think you can just waltz back into his life after all this time? "

A low, masculine rumble was the only response. Aiden jackknifed upright like a dog on a scent, cocking his head and straining to listen. His heart began to pound. The voice was too quiet to pick out individual words, but he recognized the deep, rolling timbre.

He was halfway out the door before realizing he wore only a thin bath towel, but he didn't care. He was too anxious to get between them before his mother said something ugly. He stumbled down the step, fully energized, ignoring the shock of snow that bit into the soles of his feet. Clumps of wet curls clung to his forehead and dripped icy water down the back of his neck, but he barely noticed.

He hated confrontation, but that didn't mean he wouldn't throw himself between an innocent bystander and a charging bull. His mother was never afraid to give someone the horns, and she'd always despised Seth.

It was still early evening, but it was already pitch dark. Thick clouds had rolled in to hide the moon and stars, plunging the trailer park into the kind of seedy shadows that usually hid bad things.

Aiden's mother was a tall, formidable woman, but she looked almost waifish when squaring up against someone with Seth's bulk. Her graying hair was styled in delicate rings around a remarkably youthful face, and she was dressed in smart business casual with a wool coat buttoned to her chin. Judging by her old photo albums, she'd been a real heartbreaker when she was young. Aiden thought she still might be if her mouth wasn't always pinched until her lips nearly disappeared.

"This is the second time in a week he's hurt himself," she was saying, wrapping her arms around her midsection and drumming her fingers against her own body as if already impatient with the conversation. "Imagine my surprise now that you're back in the mix. You were always encouraging him to do reckless things."

"Learning to support himself through hard work isn't exactly reckless, ma'am." Seth's voice was so patient that Aiden knew it aggravated her.

"He should have gone to college!" she snapped.

"You know your son better than that," Seth replied, infuriatingly calm. "He hated high school so much that he barely graduated. The only way you were getting him into college was drugged and tied to the roof of your car."

"He might have changed his mind," she protested, sniffing disdainfully. "I could have convinced him if you hadn't filled his head with ranching nonsense. He didn't need to settle for this kind of life. He could have been someone."

"He already is," Seth said simply.

That gave her pause. She hesitated for a beat, realizing she'd made a verbal misstep and instantly recalibrating. It wasn't about seeing someone else's point of view or even about being right. It was just about winning.

"My assistant, Nellie, called to tell me she'd spotted him at those ridiculous festival preparations. Something about horse races on skis and snowboards. As if I don't have enough to worry about!"

"He's fine," Seth replied, considerately keeping his voice low out of respect for Aiden's neighbors. "Just a little banged up. It's nothing he can't handle."

"I'll be the judge of that! He doesn't know what's best for him."

"Aiden's not a child, Barbara," Seth said calmly. "He doesn't need you to know what's good for him."

"He needs you, I suppose?"

Seth didn't reply. He stood his ground, an immovable rock beneath the pulverizing force of her glare. His breath streamed in the cold night air. The breeze picked up, tousling his long hair into his face. He narrowed his eyes against the lash, but his expression remained unflinching. Aiden's mother had never impressed him much.

"Mom," Aiden said, stepping between them and shivering with cold. "Why don't you come inside and let me make some coffee? Seth was just leaving."

Seth's gaze cut toward him, dark with something unspoken. He looked annoyed or maybe worried, but there was no reason for it. What did he think was going to happen? Aiden had outweighed and outmuscled his mother since hitting puberty. So, she tossed a few books or a houseplant at him once in a while. He was a grown man; he could put up with it. He didn't bruise like a peach.

"Look at you!" Barbara gestured at his towel. "You'll catch your death. You don't even have the common sense to get dressed!"

Aiden glanced down at his numb toes and wiggled them in the slush. "I'm fine, Mom. You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried," she snapped, offended by the mere suggestion.

Aiden couldn't help but smile just a little. It was always amusing how uncomfortable a licensed therapist was with her own emotions. How did the saying go? Physician, heal thyself.

"Look, you want the new roof, don't you?" he asked, cinching his towel a bit higher on his waist. He wrapped his arms around his torso in a vain attempt to hoard body heat, but the frigid breeze wicked it away faster than he could make it. "Well, this is how you get it. Money doesn't just spring up out of thin air."

Barbara's jaw tightened so much that the cords of her thin neck stood out in stark relief. "You could save your paychecks if you moved back in with me."

"No." Aiden cut the suggestion dead. "I need my space."

"What space? You live in a hovel the size of my walk-in closet. It's embarrassing."

Aiden shrugged. "I'm not embarrassed."

"Well, I am!" Her expression twisted. "I worked so hard to raise you. I gave you every advantage, and how do you repay me? By wallowing in the trailer park that I wasn't allowed to ride my bicycle past when I was a girl."

"You should've thought of that before you kicked him out when he was just a kid," Seth said flatly.

Her eyes were the same summer blue as Aiden's but filled with so much hostility Aiden thought she must be perpetually exhausted. "I did that so he could learn the meaning of hard work. I wanted to raise a man of honor, not…whatever this is."

"This—"

"Hey! I'm freezing!" Aiden interrupted frantically. He grabbed Seth by the bicep, forgetting the awkwardness between them, and tugged him backward. Strategic retreat was always the safest bet with his mother. "You're right, Mom. I need shoes—and pants! Haha. You want a warm drink? I haven't been shopping in a while, but I can heat up some takeout or maybe a toaster strudel?—"

Her eyes widened in comical horror. "No, thank you, Aiden. I wanted to speak with you alone, but you're right; this isn't the proper place to have a discussion. Why don't you come by the house tomorrow? Bandit would like to see you."

"Sure, Mom," Aiden chirped. "I'll come by in the morning, okay?"

It was messed up; the gratitude he felt whenever she let a matter drop. He wasn't much more than a mouse allowed to scurry back to his hiding hole, and she was the cat who hadn't deigned to go in for the kill— yet.

He didn't let out the breath he was holding until her brake lights flashed, and the Lexus pulled onto the highway.

"At least she gives you visitation rights," Seth said dryly.

It took Aiden a moment to realize he was talking about Bandit. "He's getting old now, anyway," he said distantly. "I wouldn't make him a working horse now. He'd enjoy being with the other horses at the Triple M, though. I know he gets lonely. Breaks my fucking heart."

Seth rested a comforting hand on Aiden's shoulder. His palm was so warm it felt like a brand against Aiden's bare skin, and he flinched.

"Come on," Seth said, tracking his reaction with a frown. "I don't know what liniment you've got, so I grabbed some DMSO from my truck."

"Great," Aiden muttered, wrinkling his nose. "I get to taste garlic for the rest of the night."

"Better than being in pain."

"Says you." But Aiden allowed Seth to steer him back inside with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.

The shoddy warmth of the trailer was a welcome relief after standing half-naked in the snow. Aiden's hands and feet prickled as blood began to flow through his limbs again.

Seth rattled around in cabinets under the sink until he found a clean towel. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to the padded bench.

Aiden obeyed without protest. The shot of adrenaline from the confrontation dumped out of him all at once, leaving him bone weary.

Seth crouched in front of him and slipped a liniment bottle from his coat pocket. Aiden hesitated, then adjusted the drape of the towel in his lap to hide any inconvenient outlines. He wasn't self-conscious by nature, and his body was fit and strong, but he felt like a plucked chicken sitting mostly naked before a fully clothed Seth.

Seth paused, eyes unfocused but directed somewhere around the level of Aiden's navel, then he shook himself and poured a small amount of liniment into his palm.

"Now you'll be tasting garlic all night, too," Aiden warned when he rubbed his hands together to warm the liquid.

"Doesn't bother me." Seth placed one hand gently on Aiden's shoulder. Aiden hissed through his teeth but held still. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted; the strength of Seth's hands locked him in place while he began to work the liniment into Aiden's clenched muscles. His touch was methodical, knowing, and expert from a lifetime of doctoring livestock.

Aiden hadn't stopped shivering, but somewhere along the way, the cold had stopped being the reason. Delicious warmth seeped into his body through Seth's hands, easing the persistent ache of his shoulder but growing a new ache in his groin. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the scrape of Seth's calluses, but that only made it worse. Seth's hands moved lower, firmly kneading the bunched muscle between his shoulder blades, and Aiden's breath hitched. Heat began to pool in his belly. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, praying for his cock to stop twitching.

"Seth," he whispered, voice barely audible.

Seth's hands went still. "Yeah?"

His voice was like gravel, and something low in Aiden's stomach gave a sharp tug in response. A dozen responses flitted through his brain. He wanted more, but he couldn't ask. He didn't even know what he'd say if he could. Maybe he should thank Seth for giving their friendship a second chance, apologize for his mother, or beg him to keep moving his hands lower—but what came out was worse than any of that.

"I missed you."

Sadness filled Seth's dark eyes, but after a beat of silence, his lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Me too."

Neither of them spoke after that. They just sat there looking at each other in the quiet. If Aiden turned his head slightly, his lips would brush against Seth's mouth. He almost did it, but the look in Seth's eyes said the moment had passed, and it wasn't likely to come again. The fear of rejection was too strong for Aiden to take the risk.

Seth was the one who broke the spell first. He sat back on his heels and wiped his hands on the towel, saying gruffly, "You should get some rest."

Aiden swallowed thickly, forcing a nod and reaching for a shirt from a nearby pile of unfolded laundry. "I know that I bit it out there this afternoon, but the next practice will go smoother," he said, forcing cheer into his tone. "You might as well start planning what you'll do with your share of the prize money."

Seth stood, large and looming, and scowled down at him. "I don't need the money."

"Bullshit."

Seth's eyes narrowed. He looked annoyed now. "I'm just trying to keep you from breaking your neck. Take the prize money and get Barbara off your back for a while."

Aiden laughed. "You know that'll never happen. Just like you understand why she's kept Bandit all these years instead of giving him to me. She hates that horse, but he's the juiciest bait she's got to keep me coming back."

"You've got to cut bait eventually," Seth said in a tone that surprised Aiden with its kindness. "Every good fisherman knows that."

Aiden’s skin was still warm and buttery from Seth's ministrations, but a knot of tension was beginning to tighten his forehead. He rubbed at it and sighed. "It's not that simple," he said.

Seth's smile was grim. "Nothing ever is."