“Christ, Carl!” A stocky man with an alpha grin lumbered over, the air around him thick with interest. “Blake. Remember me?” An undeniable slinking glance down Jason’s length followed. “Last year of high school?” Another lingering look. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m a completely different person.”
“Niiiice. You know mate, you and me should really catch up. Grab you a drink?”
Jason had no idea who this Blake guy was. An old friend? Crush? Boyfriend? Frenemy? He opted for a safe smile-and-nod.
Owen shifted on his bench, eyes rooted on Blake, arms folded squarely against a puffed chest. Jason motioned towards him. “Blake, have you met Owen? My boyfriend.”
Blake’s expression cooled. He eyed Owen up and down, and shrugged after a moment, life flooding back to his smile. “Yeah, okay. Let’s get this party started. Beers?”
Owen cleared his throat and spoke. He didn’t sound like himself at all. Rather blunt. Like he might still be on the clock. “Carl and I are the designated drivers tonight. If he decides to drink, fine, but I will be driving him home.”
Jason swung his head to Owen.
Owen smiled stiffly, and Jason looked from his fake boyfriend to Carl’s high-school someone. Sergeant Owen Stirling seemed particularly cold with the man. Like he knew him. A petty criminal he’d dealt with before? Or was he a bully to Carl, and Owen knew? Or was this . . .
He sank back to the bench, knees weak. A silly smile crept onto his face.
Blake swung a last look between them, shrugged, and pissed off to the other end of the bar.
“I thought you wanted napkins?”
Jason propped himself on his elbows and sighed dreamily. “I need to ask.”
A flash of colour dropping onto the opposite bench stole their attention.
Hayden, with a wobbling smile. “Kaden couldn’t make it tonight. I don’t know anyone apart from the grooms, and they’re far too busy on that bull. Hope you don’t mind?”
Jason kept a light smile on his face. Grabbed the napkin stand and started squeezing. “I live with Owen. I suppose I can share him for a few minutes.”
Incredulously, “You’re living together? What’s that like?”
How utterly tactless.
Not a single shadow on Owen’s face gave him away, but Jason had felt the roll of the bench cushion as he’d stiffened.
Owen’s house key seemed to vibrate in Jason’s pocket, like it was hauling in air to scream. Or maybe that was just him.
As calmly as he could, he said, “I am protected, provided for, and appreciated. I’ve never felt more at home.”
A warm hand curved over his thigh, and Jason was “The Marriage of Figaro”, Mozart. He fucking fluttered.
Hayden flushed. “I . . . of course Owen would be great to live with. Sorry if I sounded sceptical, it was . . .” He laughed, throwing up his arms in defeat. “I’m jealous. I gave up a good thing and I’ve been trying to convince myself I’ve found something better, but the truth is . . .” He swallowed and glanced across the bar. “Kaden isn’t here tonight because we’re not together anymore. Apparently I’m self-centred and shallow, and in fact, he’s very right.”
The first time Jason had met Hayden, he’d hated him for showing off his new and better man. For being thoughtless and rude.
Now, Jason sensed Hayden’s insecurities. Now he felt the deep sincerity in his admission.
Now, he hated him more.
Owen’s hand came off Jason with a squeeze and he patted the back of Hayden’s hand sympathetically.
Hayden blinked rapidly, tears glimmering in his eyes. Apologies at his lips. “Sorry, Owen. This isn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should never have left you. I shouldn’t have said that, either. I’m messing this up. I’ve messed everything up.”
“Hayden. Deep breath.” Owen glanced at Jason. “Would you mind getting some water? And asking for some of those napkins?”
Turned out, Jason was a truly awful person. He got water and napkins, but he also got himself a double shot of vodka and downed it before returning.
Owen thanked him, but after a flashing smile, he turned his attention back to Hayden.
Each one of Hayden’s sobs and apologies wrenched through Jason, killing every flutter that had ever leaped to life inside him.
The finale of Tchaikovsky’s 6th symphony. Steeped in despair. Loneliness. He might just sag under the table and curl around Owen’s legs, crying into the hems of his pants.
He murmured to Owen to take his time, headed back to the bar, and ordered another shot.
At least Owen had promised to drive him home if he decided to drink. Pete wouldn’t be too thrilled, but Owen could drive them all back. He would, too. He was that decent. Thoughtful. Kind . . .
Hayden wanted a second chance.
Oh fuck. Owen’s horoscope had predicted this. For single Libras, old lovers will return and new passions may be reignited.
Fiery vodka burned his throat.
Light and fun sexy times are highly likely.