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"We've missed you on Friday night! The pool tables aren’t the same without you."
He held a finger to his lips and waved them off, but the response shocked him. He’d never been a sports star or valedictorian, and he didn’t run a business or contribute in any meaningful way to the town. He was a dime-a-dozen cowboy, here for a good time if not a long time—and that was before everyone knew the truth. Word must have spread like wildfire after he’d confessed to mixing the wrong dose that night, but the town wasn’t reacting with the vitriol he’d expected. Maybe it was too long ago to work themselves into a tizzy over, or maybe they’d already taken their pound of flesh from Seth. Either way, their enthusiastic greeting warmed him.
The streets were quiet even for a Sunday afternoon. Shops he'd known his whole life slid by the truck's windows, seeming somehow new again. He spotted the old playground where he'd played as a child with Cal and West, and the high school football field where they'd cheered Nate and Tucker every Friday night. His home. He'd been so agonized over Seth he hadn't noticed how badly he missed everything else.
He parked on a side street behind Lily Mittendorf's candy shop, shoved his hands in his pockets, and hoofed it the rest of the way. The winter snowpack had melted, and the streets were clean and dry. The air smelled warm and green, with just a hint of frost blowing off the mountain peaks. The cobblestone square was strung with lights and filled with people laughing and chatting over paper plates of barbeque.
He spotted Seth instantly, and it knocked the wind out of him. He slipped into the shadow of a quilting shop's awning and just…watched. His heart ached. He'd wondered if he might see the strain of separation in Seth's face, like he saw it on his own features when he looked in the mirror. But even from a distance, Seth was shockingly handsome. He wore a tie and dress shirt tucked into his nicest pair of jeans, and his hair was combed into unruly waves as he bent his head to catch something Tessa whispered in his ear. He nodded, listening intently, but his eyes searched the crowd restlessly, as if he sensed he was being watched. For a moment, his gaze seemed to linger in Aiden's direction.
Only the squeal of a sound system saved Aiden from being spotted.
"How do I work this thing?" Gus Awbry croaked into a microphone. He stood on top of a makeshift podium someone had erected in the center of the square, directly beneath the statue of a bucking bull. His weathered face was somber and cranky as he studied the crowd. "I don't know why they shoved me up here," he grumbled, "but I guess it's because I should be the first person apologizing to Seth McCall. We should've done this a long time ago. David was a good friend, a man dedicated to his family and community. He's always been remembered, but he deserves to be honored. I can't think of a better way to do that than to allow his son to say a few words."
There was a rustle as heads turned in unison toward Seth. His shoulders were stiff, and his jaw was set in the determined way Aiden knew so well. He slowly and deliberately made his way up to the podium, and the crowd parted around him.
Aiden shrank further into the shadows, heart pounding. The last thing he wanted was to be seen, but he couldn't have lived with himself if he didn't come. Maybe it was a need for closure, the pull of loneliness, or something deeper that he was afraid to name. Whatever it was, he felt small as he tucked himself against the storefront, watching the only man he'd ever loved as he prepared to speak in front of the town that had once turned its back on him.
Seth gripped the microphone so hard that his knuckles turned white, but that was the only sign of his unease. He looked every bit the man Aiden had always known he was—strong and fearless. The weight of the world had rested on those broad shoulders for a long time, and he'd never once faltered.
Seth cleared his throat and said in a low, rough voice, "Thanks for coming, y'all. We kept things small and private when Dad passed, but maybe that was the wrong decision. More people mourned his loss than just me and my sister. I think Dad would've been surprised by the fuss. He wasn't a man who liked the spotlight. He believed in doing the right thing, even when it was hard and thankless, and he passed that lesson on to everyone who knew him."
Seth paused. His gaze grew unfocused, turning inward on itself, and his expression tightened into something that looked like resolve. His eyes moved back to the crowd with a searching intensity. "My dad taught me that strength isn't about how tough you act or how much you can lift," he continued in a firm voice. "It's about how much you can bear and how much you can give, even when you think you've got nothing left. It's about being grateful for the people who stand by your side, no matter what, even when you're too damn stubborn to let them."
Aiden's chest tightened as he realized where Seth was heading. His pulse quickened, and a cold sweat prickled across the back of his neck despite the cool breeze. The impulse to run grabbed him by the throat, but he felt rooted to the spot, unable to do anything except listen.
"There was one man who tried to stay by my side through everything," Seth said. His voice was thick with emotion. "Even when I pushed him away and made it impossible for him to stay, he never gave up on me. He was right there waiting as soon as I stopped being too blind to see it. There's been a lot of talk about that man lately, about things that should have stayed in the past, but I know you're all smart enough to look past that for a man like Aiden Doyle. A man who would give the shirt off his back for any of you, just like my father did. Before he died, my father told me something that I'll never forget. Mistakes happen. One blink of an eye can change our lives forever. We can't control it any more than we can control who we fall in love with or who falls in love with us. It took me a while to accept that, but now I know it's true. It just happens…and when it does, it changes everything."
Seth’s dark eyes locked on him, boring into him from across the square, and the blood drained from Aiden’s face. He stood, frozen, pinned like an insect on an old-fashioned collector’s board, living out his worst nightmare.
Seth's eyes softened, and his mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile. "Welcome home, Aiden."
That was when Aiden turned—and bolted.
Chapter Thirty-Five
SETH
Seth’s ears were rushing so loud that the crowd faded beneath it. His heart was pounding like a hydraulic press, so hard it felt like his ribs were about to crack and all his pain and fear and hope would come spilling out.
Time slowed and then stopped, suspended between his heartbeats, the moment he spotted Aiden's familiar shock of blond curls in the crowd. Longer, and no longer faintly red, but he’d recognize that golden halo and the familiar tilt of his head anywhere. Aiden. His Aiden. Alive, here, finally breathing the same air once more.
They locked eyes, and for a moment, joy began to swell inside him. Then Aiden turned and ran. He ran. Again.
Seth was off the podium before he realized he'd even moved, ignoring the startled exclamations of the crowd. The elderly townsfolk had clustered closest to the stage to hear, and he was forced to slow down so they didn't topple like a set of bowling pins.
"Tessa!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate as he dodged through the crowd.
Riley crouched on the cobblestone, and his sister gamely climbed onto her boyfriend's shoulders to see above the gathered heads.
"That way!" she yelled, pointing wildly. "Get him, Seth!"
Seth tore down a side street that cut behind a candy shop, barely registering the hoots and hollers from the Triple M's cowboys. He had only one focus—Aiden. He had to get to him; he couldn't let him disappear again. Not after two months of agonizing silence, and night after sleepless night, wondering where he was and if he was safe. Nightmares plagued him. The thought of losing him again was unbearable. They'd missed so many chances over the years. How many more opportunities could one man get before fate washed its hands of him?
Seth's boots pounded down the pavement, but Aiden had too much of a head start, and the fucker was fast. His long legs ate up the ground in an ever-widening gulf, but gut-wrenching fear spurred Seth to move faster. He put on a burst of speed just as Aiden's truck came into view around the corner.
He was close enough to see the way Aiden's hand shook as he fumbled with his keys, and it nearly broke Seth's heart all over again.
"Aiden, stop!" he shouted.
