Chapter 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Get up, go for a run, look for work. Check in with Mick, and tick the boxes to prove he deserved to stay out of prison. He’d made a routine for himself, and his only break was texting Cillian.

He wanted to see him again, but neither of them had suggested anything. Was it up to him? Cillian was busy rehearsing and teaching and living his life; Anthony didn’t want to push.

Meanwhile, he tried to stay out of Margot’s way, so she didn’t decide he’d overstayed his welcome. If she’d realized that he’d stayed out overnight, she hadn’t said anything, but she worked a lot. As a thank you for putting up with him, he’d offered to buy and make dinner. He hadn’t gone grocery shopping or made a meal from scratch in far too long. Once upon a time, he’d enjoyed cooking.

He walked through the supermarket, trying to decide what to buy. He was sure supermarkets hadn’t been this big before, and he’d known where everything was. His plan had been to buy himself some cereal and snacks, to rediscover what he liked and see what was new. He wandered the aisles, barely recognizing any of the brands or products now available.

He grabbed a box of muesli and some chocolate that he’d used to like. He didn’t want to waste money he didn’t have on something new that he might not like.

Everything he did revealed the split in his life. Before and after, and he constantly compared the two. He’d never stood and stared at endless shelves of chicken in the refrigerated cases trying to work out the best one to purchase. A whole one? A boneless one? Bits of one?

He should’ve chosen a recipe, but he’d thought it would be easy to buy chicken and vegetables and roast them. He pulled the seasoned boneless chicken off the shelf and dropped it in the basket, then made his way to the vegetables.

Heat crept across his shoulders. The shop was too busy with people picking up items for their dinner. They bustled past or bumped into him as he tried to decide which potatoes to buy. Blue, red, white, or covered in dirt?

His brain glitched. He had no idea.

It should have been simple. All he needed to do was pick a bag and move on to the next food on his list. His fingers flexed and the heat spread. His heart drummed, drowning out all other noise. He swallowed and wiped his hand on his jeans. He should’ve come in earlier, but he’d been applying for jobs. If he didn’t apply for enough, his welfare got cut off.

He’d met with a recruitment agent who was unimpressed with Anthony’s résumé. Anthony had expected the look of distaste; however, he hadn’t expected it to be so blatant. He doubted he’d get anything though that particular agency, but there were other agencies.

He was not going to crumble in the supermarket. His fingers curled, digging into his palm. A woman on a phone reached past him and snatched up a bag, pausing only to give him an angry glare.

He was buying fucking potatoes. He grabbed the nearest bag and stepped back. Sweat made his T-shirt cling to him, almost as bad as if he’d been running or working out at the gym. He’d rather be at the gym.

Think about that, not the other shoppers.

About chin-ups and bench presses and all the equipment that he couldn’t afford. That only twisted the tension higher. Think of something good.

The beach with its endless horizon that he still couldn’t face, even though he ran along the path every day.

No.

All the recent happy memories involved Cillian. As they lay tangled together in bed, breathing hard and grinding together. The easy morning after as they drank coffee, showered and dressed.

The way they’d laughed and talked. There’d been no demands or expectations beyond enjoying each other’s company. He didn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Even before, his lovers and boyfriends had been there because they looked right, or it was mutually beneficial.

This was different.

It was what he wanted and what had been missing.

He exhaled slowly. The noise of the supermarket returned. The mass of people hadn’t vanished. A few people stared at him. Had they never seen a narrowly averted panic attack before? Would they have preferred him to fold up on the floor and shake?

He should get something for it, but he’d already done his research, and anti-anxiety medication could take weeks to take effect, if it worked at all. He wanted them gone now, or under control, or he’d have to avoid going to the shops or anywhere people gathered.

How could he go out with Cillian when he couldn’t manage the simple task of grocery shopping? What if he fell apart in front of him?

This was unacceptable. He needed to get his shit together and be normal, like everyone else in the supermarket.

He did not miss his fucking prison cell and the safety it offered.

He wanted freedom and to cook his own dinner… to cook for someone other than his sister. It was far too easy to imagine being back in Cillian’s kitchen.

With that thought in mind, he scooped up a pumpkin, not caring what type it was, and placed it in the basket, along with a head of broccoli. His mission at the moment needed to be remaining calm, getting through the checkout, and making the fifteen-minute walk home without breaking.

He was not wasting money on a taxi, and he wasn’t ready to tackle catching a bus yet. Waiting in line at the checkout almost killed him. He was tempted to ditch the basket and walk out twice before it was his turn. By then, he was bouncing on his feet like he planned on sprinting home.

While he didn’t run for the exit with his shopping bags, it couldn’t have been called a casual walk, either. When he got home, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, calling the outing a success before sliding to the floor to catch his breath.