Page 41 of Inked Desires
“I have to answer,” I say and dash into the bedroom.
“Kiran.”
“I have intel on Jace Benton,” my best friend announces right away.
That’s what I hoped for. Yesterday I asked him to dig into that guy after being alone with him. The little fight between Andrew and me gave me an opening.
“Go ahead, tell me everything.”
“Bad dude. Owns a fight club called the Benton Hawks. When he was younger, he fought himself to manage his aggression problems. It was a court-ordered condition for minors after he nearly beat someone to death in a bar fight at a place called the Desirium. Now, no one gets into Thunder Hawk without going through him. I’ll check it out, maybe he’s just a violent guy and the stories aren’t true.”
“Be careful. No trails leading to us. He doesn’t know where Andrew is, and it has to stay that way.”
“Got it.”
I stare at the bedroom’s white wall. Kiran is the type to take initiatives.
“I’m serious. No solo moves,” I growl.
He exhales loudly. I’m sure he’s rolling his eyes. Can’t blame him—I’m like a father to him.
“Alright, I’ll just gather info.”
“Thanks. Be careful, Kiran,” I say before hanging up and tossing my phone on the bed.
So Jace Benton doesn’t just hit his husband, he’s also made fists his livelihood. At least when it comes time to break his jaw, he’ll know how to defend himself. Maybe it’ll last more than five minutes after all.
I take a moment for myself. Andrew is observant; he might sense something’s wrong. Once I’m sure my face betrays nothing, I go back to the kitchen.
The eggs and bacon are already plated, set on the table. Andrew sits, waiting for me.
“That was Kiran. He just wanted to know if we’d killed each other.”
His lips twitch but no smile comes. Instead, his eyebrows knit together. I sit down.
“He worries about you, doesn’t he?”
I crack my egg and think about what to say.
“Probably. He was there when William left. He doesn’t want a supernova explosion all over again.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You don’t give me any details either,” I reply on reflex.
He says nothing. For a moment, we eat in silence, and I was right: the eggs are dry.
The silence grows heavier between us. We both have secrets, and neither of us wants to share a single one.
“After my service in Iraq, I was a stranger in my own skin. What I saw, what I did… it changed me. I came home—well, my body came home—but I was still there, back there. PTSD. I tried to manage that… darkness. Alcohol seemed the answer. One bottle to calm the sleepless nights, another to forget the nightmares. But it only got worse. William… he was there, trying. And me? I said horrible things, things I didn’t mean. Words I still regret. Then one day, Kiran came. You know, the kind of friend who doesn’t sugarcoat but knows exactly where to hit. He gave me a serious kick in the ass, and I stopped drinking. Just like that. But quitting’s easy when you replace one addiction with another. I’d always loved drawing, so I started tattooing. It wasn’t just a hobby. It became an obsession. Every line, every shadow had to be perfect. My work became my new drug. It kept my mind on a leash, like a rabid dog held by a chain. But William… he was alone. I saw nothing but my business. And he dreamed of a family. He wanted us to adopt a child. But for me, that was impossible. No time, no headspace, and especially not the endless paperwork. So we fought. A real fight—the kind that breaks something inside you. The next morning, he was gone. No word, no explanation. Just that emptiness… And guess what? Alcohol came back, like an old toxic friend we let in anyway. Then Kiran had to come back, shake me up a second time to make me look up. I got back to work. Not because I was better, but because it was all I had.”
Damn, Andrew already has too much power over me.
“He should’ve been more understanding.”
I put down my fork and stare out the window. William was happy I was still alive. He’d been incredibly patient and understanding while I was on mission. Not everyone would’ve accepted that. He could’ve ended up a widower.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I wouldn’t have wanted to be in his shoes. Back then, I wasn’t an easy guy.”
