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"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."
