Chapter 16

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Anthony had seen the text but, after days of no contact, had vowed that he wouldn’t respond immediately to Cillian’s messages. He didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, so he busied himself following his usual routine of going for a run and looking for work. He’d checked in with his parole officer and done the drug test to prove he wasn’t using. Where did they think he’d find the money for drugs? Did they think he’d steal Margot’s things, or sell his few remaining possessions?

It was humiliating, though that was probably the aim.

He submitted a job application, even though he was sure he wouldn’t get an interview. Thus far, he’d heard nothing back from any of the jobs he’d applied for. He told himself it was because it had only been three weeks and HR departments moved slowly.

Today’s mission was trawling through the local government job site. While he didn’t want to leave Sydney, realistically getting a job in the suburbs was more likely, and he’d be able to afford the rent there more easily, too.

He did not want to admit that moving out of the city would make it harder to see Cillian. While the fling was fun, Anthony was smart enough to know that men like Cillian, with talent and looks, didn’t end up with people like him. He had nothing to offer anyone. He needed to sort himself out before he even considered dating. Yet, with Cillian, he kept throwing that ideal to the wind.

There was a part of him that wanted to decline the invitation and let it die, but the bigger part of him wanted to live, if only for a few brilliant weeks, before he burned when the relationship caught on fire.

He was tired of gray walls, of merely existing and hoping not to be kicked again before he could get up. Cillian was a spark of hope, a glimmer of light that promised a life was possible. That this wasn’t his forever. He was only thirty-six. He wasn’t even halfway…

In another decade, this would be miles behind him.

To put it behind him, he needed to move forward.

Forward meant Cillian.

So he accepted.

And Cillian responded straight away, which made him smile as Cillian must be busy. Cillian had a career and a life—which was another reason Anthony hadn’t asked to see him again. He didn’t want to make demands, but he shouldn’t need to feel so grateful for scraps.

He didn’t want to live with his sister, who was always checking in and asking what he was planning to do about his future, as though he spent every hour of every day on the sofa watching TV. He wouldn’t be doing it now if his options weren’t so limited. If the parole board hadn’t banned him from seeing Liam, he’d be sharing a flat with a friend.

The pang of pain that loss caused was something he was still growing used to. He wanted to pick up the phone and compare notes with Liam or ask him how he was doing. Seeing his friends wouldn’t cause him to re-offend. He pushed the frustration aside, knowing he needed to make new friends, and that Cillian was a good start. However, there was a thread of disbelief about why Cillian wanted to spend any time with him—aside from lust.

His attention flicked between his laptop and phone. There were several jobs he could apply for. One was a part-time job in a council library three hours out of the city. It was only part-time, and it was three hours away, but he was qualified to do it. If it hadn’t been for the map, he wouldn’t have even known where the shire was. There was also a data entry job which was full time and sounded boring as hell.

He wouldn’t get either of them, so what did it matter? He’d probably never work again. With a groan, he leaned back and scrubbed his face with a hand. He didn’t want to live another forty years unemployed and hiding in his sister’s spare room.

The spark of hope Cillian’s text had caused was obliterated as the weight of failure crushed him. What if there was nothing good left for him, and he’d blown it all?

The churning in his gut began again; sweat formed in his armpits. He shoved away from the laptop and paced the formal dining room, which had become his impromptu study—unless Margot had friends over—and raked his fingers through his hair.

Before he had a complete freak out, he padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. He filled the glass, took a swig, and then dumped in some ice cubes. He kept one cube in his hand, focusing on the cold to calm himself.

Water dripped from his fist to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Margot asked from where she sat with a coffee and the newspaper, the same way she did most Saturday mornings.

“Fine.” He dropped the ice cube in the sink. He needed to see a doctor… “I think I need something for the panic attacks.”

She studied him for several heartbeats. “Therapy.”

“And how am I going to pay for that?”

While she was helping, it only went so far, and the moment he fucked up, it would end. “Talk to your parole officer. I’m sure he can make some recommendations.”

“Yeah, great.” You’re a fucking GP, you should be able to help me. He shouldn’t be getting his best tips off the internet. He sighed and drank the rest of the cold water, feeling a little calmer and less like the world was ending.

“I’m having friends over tomorrow morning.”

“I’m going out tonight?—”

“With that pianist?”

Anthony paused before responding but couldn’t find a lie. “Yes. He has tickets to a show.”

She frowned. “Hayden says he is always looking for leverage. Be careful.”

“And what do you think I have that he wants?”

“Your family.”

Anthony stared at her. “He played at Hayden’s party; he already has a connection to our family.”

But Cillian had made a beeline for him.

All the doubts he’d fought rose to the surface, ready to have a go at him again. Could he not have one nice thing?

He closed his eyes, remembering the heat in Cillian’s brown eyes, the hunger of his touches and the noises he made when he came. He hadn’t been faking… or had he?

“It’s just lust, Margot.” At twenty, he wouldn’t have even questioned why someone was interested; he’d have jumped in sometimes, not even bothering to learn their name. Now he questioned everything. “I wanted his dick?—”

“There’s no need to be crass about it.”

“I’m being honest. He wanted the gossip. We got to talking and decided to take it further. I’m sure he’ll grow bored, so let me enjoy it while it lasts. It’s been a bloody long time since I enjoyed anything.”

“That’s because you were being punished.”

“No shit. I fucked up.” He shook his head. “I’m going to apply for more jobs.”