Unshackled

It was equally reassuring and tragic to see the genuine surprise on his face. For one, he sure as fuck didn’t suspect I was in love with him. For two, we were close enough that I wanted him to at least guess the tickets were for him. He had to know he meant the world to me.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. It was probably the first time in my life I’d seen him flustered. It was funny—and weird. This tall, broad-shouldered, stocky man with silver in his hair and charisma and laugh lines couldn’t possibly feel out of place, could he? Except, of course he could. “That is such an incredible gift, Kellan. I’m touched.”

“In the head. How could you even lay eyes on these and not wonder if they were for you?” I asked.

He exhaled a chuckle and shook his head. “I’m not sure—the first thing that struck me was envy. And a need to know who you might attend with. You’ve never introduced a boyfriend to the family.”

“Well, I’m not bringing a boyfriend. I’m giving you two tickets and a not-so-subtle hint about who to bring. AKA, me.”

He smiled, and it was fucking gorgeous. It reached his eyes and wasn’t marred by the grief underneath. “I can think of no other I’d rather go with. Thank you for a very special gift.”

I can think of no other I’d rather go with.

Could I get that in writing?

Eh, why bother. It was already engraved into my heart.

We moved the party to the couch, and Shan launched into a retelling of the fond memory of when his parents took him to the symphony for the first time as a child. He’d discovered you could love classical music at the same time as you loved the Dubliners and the Clancy Brothers.

As he spoke, I thought “reunion” fit better than any other word to describe the evening. Because that’s what this felt like. I’d been so caught up in work—and, most of all, juggling two identities—that I’d forgotten what mattered even more to me. And it was this right here. Being myself with Shan, trying to lift his spirits, talking to him, just spending time with him.

He redressed my wound and gave his approval for a simpler bandage going forward.

“But let’s get back to the symphony.” I sat down on the couch and put on my tee. “They still have a dress code, right?”

“Unfortunately, no. Far too many take the hoodlum approach and arrive in jeans and tees.”

Gross. I grabbed a handful of chips and sat back again. “That won’t be you and me, Daddy. We’ll get a car service and show up in style.” It felt amazing to make him smile like that. “Don’t get me wrong, I like classical music, but I’m more thrilled I finally get to wear my red suit.”

Funny how fast that smile turned into skepticism. “A red suit.”

“Okay, not red,” I amended with a chuckle. “It’s a burgundy three-piece that I bought in London a few years ago. It’s fucking stunning, fits my body like a glove, black shirt, burgundy bow tie, black evening scarf. I even bought a watch that matches—and cuff links.”

He grinned faintly. “I shouldn’t have worried. You’ve always dressed impeccably.”

“Damn right.”

Fuck, I couldn’t stress how fantastic it felt not to go anywhere tonight. The first handful of chips disappeared in a second, and then I leaned forward again to go nuts on the nachos.

Some music couldn’t hurt, so I turned on the TV and went to the radio channels, picking a soft rock station.

“It’s good to have you home tonight.” Shannon repositioned himself and leaned back against the armrest. “I’ve tried to go out more, a couple hours here and there, but I always come home to an empty apartment lately.”

Because to him, meeting up for a fuck didn’t take longer than that. This sorry sack of shit had to go through a whole transformation. Additionally, it would look weird if I always left an hour before him and got home an hour after. So I had to come up with errands and work engagements that had me stumbling home near dawn instead.

On the flip side, it was during a rainy night when I was in a bad mood due to lack of sleep that I’d finally cracked the Italians we kept in a safehouse near the airport. I’d been livid, tired, and fucked in the head. I’d started pulling out one of the guys’ fingernails, and twenty minutes later, he was sobbing out his name, address, and whatever info he had on his boss.

There was a downside to that too, though. Aforementioned boss was just one tier above him, letting us know they were organized enough to have crews and capos.

Right now, we knew there were at least forty people, and we had Sons working around the clock to learn everything there was to know. And as soon as we discovered an address or identity, our crew in Italy went to work.