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“So, why the smile? I wasn’t joking when I said it had been a while.”
“I went back after you left. You don’t know his story and how the news that the bastard could be getting out might affect him. Let’s just say I knew how he’d react. I didn’t want him to go back to his old ways. From what he told me, he’s not been clean long. My priority is taking his mind off it, so I asked him out to dinner.”
“Good for you, John.” Sam slapped me on the back, almost knocking me over. “You know, I don’t remember you taking anyone out to dinner, and we’ve known each other what, ten years? He must be something special.”
He wasn’t…yet, but I had a feeling about him. Five years ago, he’d looked so lost and alone, which had been understandable. Betrayed by a man he trusted, he’d been struggling to come to terms with that.
With him being part of an ongoing investigation, I’d never made a move. Then he’d disappeared. I’d vowed to look for him, but one case led to another and another until he’d slipped from my memory and it had been too late.
Sam stared at me. What was he waiting for?
“I don’t fucking know. Time’s moving on, and I’m not getting any younger. He’s young, much younger than anyone I’ve ever been with. It might not work. He might decide I’m not worth bothering with.”
“Or he might see what a kind, generous, and loving person you are. Take a chance. Live a little. Whatever you decide and whatever happens, I’m here for you, man. Trish too.”
That meant a lot. Sam had never once said anything about me being gay, never treated me any different, and I knew he’d always have my back. He was my best friend, and I loved him for it.
“We’re not hugging it out,” I said, and he laughed.
“Nope, not gonna happen. We’d best get moving, though, or else someone won’t be ready for their date later.”
I smiled and shook my head. Fucking date. I hadn’t been on one in years. Fingers crossed, I hadn’t forgotten what to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIAM
Istormed into the breakroom, barely in time for my first appointment, threw off my coat, and inspected my face in the mirror.
Jesus, I looked awful, with my eyes red and puffy from all the crying. I’d need to do something about that. Splashing water on it earlier had done nothing to help, but with little time to do much about it, I carefully applied some concealer.
Drew would surely notice, and I’d have some explaining to do. He had known the score where Stuart was concerned. My ‘date’ with John might be a little more difficult to explain.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the shop and greeted my customer.
“James, how lovely to see you.”
We chatted as I cut. I tried to be cheerful, pretending everything was just peachy, but I could scarcely hold the scissors. My hands quivered.
The moment he left, exhaustion hit me, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The nausea plaguing me that morning returned with a vengeance, and I made it to the bathroom just in time. The remains of my breakfast disappeared with a swirl down the toilet.
I stood slowly, but my legs trembled so badly they barely held my weight. I leant against the wall as I struggled to breathe, but it was as if the proverbial elephant was sitting on my chest, preventing me from filling my lungs.
Now was not the time for another panic attack.
A concerned Drew stood in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand.
“I thought you could use this.” He handed it to me, and I gulped it down. It hardly touched the sides. I walked to the kitchen and poured myself another, then rinsed and spat, washing away the bitterness in my mouth.
“Thanks,” I said.
“So, what happened after I left? Do you want to talk about it?”
Thankfully, the shop was empty, and we sat on the sofa in the window while I told him the news about Stuart.
“I don’t understand how he’s getting parole so early. Isn’t it usually years before that happens? It’s only been four, five at the most.”
“Five years, yes. He’s not being released. He doesn’t get parole yet.”
