Page 5 of The Truth of Loving You

I’d never be with another man. My man was gone, but I still enjoyed the benefit of being bi. Even though hetero sex paled in comparison to what I’d had with Paxton, it at least had dulled the ache.

I sent a quick text to Alec and checked my schedule. The perk of owning a tattoo parlor was that I didn’t have to answer to anyone else. Luckily, I’d scheduled a huge back piece that would take most of the day. I had plenty of time to try my pretty boy’s hangover cure, and then I could lose myself in my art, drown out my misery, and banish his face from my memory. It wouldn’t even be hard to resist the urge to remember his name.

Working today had been a win of sorts. Last year, it took me two days to get out of bed after I’d visited the cemetery. I couldn’t tell if working today meant progress or moving further away from Paxton. Most people would have voted for progress, but I had my doubts. Paxton’s future and choices were taken away, and it felt wrong to move past that, as if moving on would devalue his life.

The circumstances of his death directly related to my selfish, careless nature. My stubbornness caused a rift we never repaired. He’d never known that I’d changed my mind and was willing to do anything,anything, to make him happy. The loss of our potential future was as excruciating as losing my best friend and soulmate. I didn’t remember a time in my life without him. We’d grown up together, and we’d saved each other from parents determined to see us fail. His loss would haunt me forever, as it should.

For that reason, I had no right thinking about seductive brown eyes, long fingers, and lips for days. The more I tried to scrub his image from my brain, the more he popped up: young and innocent and eager to please. He was the opposite of Paxton—long, lean, and classically beautiful, with dark hair in need of a cut. Paxton had been taller and bulkier than me. The golden boy with hair to match. The guy from last night was off-limits and most likely straight. My imagination needed to fuck right off.

Alec grinned as he plopped himself down in my client chair as I cleaned my station. When I’d built the shop out, I’d erected solid partitions, so each station had privacy and a door.

His lazy smile and deep dimples transformed his face into the poster boy for mischief. “I need to know who’s the very fine voice that took you home and put you to bed.”

I shrugged with every intention of telling himno one, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Holy shit.” Alec slowly rose to an upright position. “Something happened with you two.”

“No,” I forced out. “He works at Branson Financial and took Pax’s old job.”

Alec slumped back into a reclined position and threw his hands up. “You went to his office! Dude, there’s nothing there but shitty memories and your asshole father. You give your father power over you every time you step into his world. Cut the cord. You’re not eliminating Pax; you’re cutting out your father.” Alec tossed one of his favorite candies in the air and caught it in his mouth.

I wiped down my ink tray for the fifth time. Alec wasn’t wrong. I felt tied to Branson Financial because of Pax, but the feud with my father would disappear if I let it go.

Alec sighed. “I had visions of the hot voice pulling you out of your man hiatus.”

I snorted. “He’s straight.”

“Not the point. You deserve a second chance at love. Pax wouldn’t want you to tear yourself up like this.” Alec swung his legs off the chair, stood, and slapped my back as he walked by.

He didn’t understand what it was like to lose your soulmate.

“Get the hell out of here,” I waved toward the door, adding, “and don’t be late for your early appointment tomorrow.”

“Don’t pull that dad shit with me, old man,” Alec joked as he left.

I grunted, feeling every one of my thirty-eight years today. This body didn’t recover from a hangover like it used to. I performed menial tasks until there was nothing left to do but go home.

Locking the door to Unframed Art, I rounded the corner to the entrance to my apartment. I wished there was access directly from the shop into the loft. But early on, Paxton and I knew we needed a separate entrance to maintain a work/life balance. The emergencies significantly decreased if someone had to ring my doorbell instead of texting me.

Our loft felt cavernous. Usually, I tried to work late or go to the gym, so I’d be too tired to notice the void. Paxton had found this building after we moved back from London, and it was his vision to open my shop downstairs and renovate this space to live in. I’d have lived anywhere with him. But after several promotions, his taste had become more discerning, so we’d moved to Greenwich Village seven years ago.

We’d rented this space to Alec until I moved back in. Alec had needed a rescue, and we’d needed a renter. Now the high ceilings, exposed brick, and open floor plan mocked me with a sense of loneliness. The kitchen, living room, bedroom, and eating areas were all one huge room. Only the bathroom and storage area were separated. It was the epitome of an industrial loft.

The urge to grab a bottle of Jack and fall into bed was strong. Instead, I opened the freezer and pulled out a meal Paxton’s mom had frozen for me.

When my food was hot, I sat at the island with my dish and pulled my laptop closer. With one hand, I shoveled food into my mouth as the other brought my screen to life. I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. Before work, I’d had the insane idea to google Shane. Without warning, my memory had supplied his name, and for a second, I’d wanted to know more. But I gave up the search and thought I’d cleared my browser. Instead, the definition of the name Shane screamed at me from my laptop.

My fork fell onto my plate of lasagna as I slammed the computer shut. The bottle of Jack called to me, and I answered. Taking a long pull, my eyes closed as I relished the burn. I yelled, “Fuck,” and it echoed back to me. Names weren’t the definition of who people are. It didn’t matter that the name Shane meant gift from God. People’s names aren’t prophecies. His name gave me one more reason to stay the hell away from him. Despite my conviction, I reopened my laptop.

Chapter three

Cole

Sincemycemeteryvisit,Alec had pointed out that I was a sulking asshole. After being a disaster at the shop, I was determined to approach this week with a different mindset. Alec tolerated me, even though I was a miserable boss and a terrible friend.

He’d been my lifesaver for years. I wouldn’t have my tattoo parlor, Unframed Art, if it weren’t for him. He’d kept things going when I didn’t have the will or ability to function. He still had my back when I couldn’t cope. We don’t talk about my appreciation because then he’d have to admit he felt like he owed me for helping him after his bad breakup when he became homeless.

But my attitude was being tested because today was paperwork day, my least favorite part of being a business owner. Sometimes, I thought about selling, but the idea of working for someone else was less appealing than the stack of invoices and receipts piled high in a mess all over my desk.

---