Chapter Fifteen
Aiden
I was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted and it felt like we’d barely scratched the surface on things that needed to be done. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to curl up in bed under a mountain of blankets and hope the problem went away on its own.
But that wasn’t going to happen, and pretending everything was fine was only going to smack me around the head later down the line.
I’d spent half the morning on the phone to the insurance, cursing under my breath every time they put me on hold.
To my surprise, they’d been more helpful than I’d anticipated and promised to send someone out within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours to review everything.
Until then, I had to catalogue every single thing in the kitchen and whether it was useable with a deep clean, was damaged and in need of repair, or had to be destroyed.
So, we’d pulled on some disposable blue booties over our shoes, grabbed some disposable blue gloves, and gotten to work.
Building security had said we could have a couple of hours to review our units, but then we had to get out so their own insurance could do a damage report and the building could be surveyed to see when it would be useable again.
The whole floor would need drying out and probably have to be stripped right back, dried out, replastered, and painted before we’d be allowed back in. And that could take weeks.
That wasn’t even thinking about the electrics, plumbing, flooring, and any of that shit.
I’d probably still be expected to pay rent too, because fuck me I suppose.
Every time I tried to wrap my head around all the ins and outs and all the complexities of what could or should or might happen next, I felt pain flare behind my eyes and anxiety lodge in my chest.
There were too many variables, and I wasn’t the one making the decisions, which I fucking hated.
The whole situation seemed designed to put me under the maximum amount of stress, then squeeze a little more out of me for good measure, like I was a juicy fucking lemon and not a man whose entire business was circling the drain.
“Why don’t you come back to mine tonight?
” Jonny asked as he helped me count baking trays, inspecting them closely to see whether they’d be useable or not.
My gut feeling was to bin everything in case of contamination, but I was going to check with someone like the Food Standards Agency as soon as I could.
There was a chance a thorough clean and a trip through an industrial dishwasher would be enough.
Either way I’d need a list of everything for the insurance.
“What?” I hadn’t really been listening, and I turned to look at him so I’d catch what he said when he repeated himself.
“Why don’t you come and stay at mine tonight? I don’t think you should be by yourself. Then if you want to make a plan, we can, but we can also just chill.”
“Jonny, I… It’s… I’ll be fine.” It was a sweet offer and I appreciated it, but I didn’t want to be a burden.
He raised his eyebrow, knowing me too well to take what I said at face value. “Will you? Or are you saying that because you think you’ve bothered me enough for one day?”
From the other side of the kitchen, Bacon whistled. “He’s got you there, Eggs.”
“Fuck off, Bacon.” There was no malice behind my words, and he laughed as he flipped me off.
“Fucking charming! I get up at five in the bloody morning, bring you Maccies, and trudge through this shithole, and that’s the thanks I get?”
“What do you want? A fucking blow job?”
“I mean, if you’re offering,” Bacon said with a grin and I almost doubled over as hysterical laughter ripped its way out of my lungs, a physical manifestation of my breaking point. “Jesus, mate. My dick isn’t that bad.”
“Sorry, I’m just…” I screamed breathlessly. “Fuck!”
“I know,” Jonny said, peeling off his gloves and rubbing gentle circles across my spine with a broad hand. It was something he’d done ever since we were kids, the warm familiarity of the gesture soothing me slightly. “It’s all shit.”
“So shit. I hate this.”
“I know. But it’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, man, it’s gonna be all right,” Bacon added, a soft edge to his voice I very rarely heard. It caught me off guard because Bacon and softness weren’t usually two words you’d use in the same sentence.
“Come back to mine tonight,” Jonny said again, his hand still on my spine. “Please? I don’t think you should be alone and I want to help. Devon does too. You’re not bothering us, I promise.”
“Okay.” The word was muttered, more forced off my tongue than anything. An almost bitter acceptance. But it was an acceptance nonetheless.
“Good. Let’s get finished up here, then we’ll head back. I can drive us.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll bring my car. Just in case the insurance calls and I need to get down here while you’re at practice tomorrow.”
“Yeah, all right,” Jonny said. He moved his hand up my back and squeezed my shoulder, offering me a warm smile.
“Thanks,” I said. “For this. For being here.”
“Anytime.”
I knew he meant it too.
Jonny grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and went back to cataloguing, while I peeled mine off and opened my phone to check my emails to see if there were any pissed-off messages from customers.
I’d sent out cancellation notices and refunds while sitting in Bacon’s van eating breakfast, typing with slightly greasy fingers and ranting at Bacon about how shit everything was.
God love that bastard for listening to me.
He’d even offered me the pub kitchen, which was a hugely sweet gesture because I knew how protective he was over that space.
I’d had to turn him down because I didn’t have anything to bake with, let alone package things in.
My brain was fried too, and there was no way I could focus enough to make the amount of cookies I needed.
They’d be shit quality too, and there was no way I was letting my brand be associated with anything less than perfection.
It was easier to send refunds along with a quick explanation of the reason, even if it would hurt to watch the money leave my account. I was trying not to think about how poor I was about to become.
Maybe Bacon would give me a job in the pub if I was desperate. I could pull pints easily enough. And I’d have no problem telling any of his regulars to piss off if they got too rowdy.
There was a message notification from Hunter and Bailey lingering at the top of my screen which I still hadn’t opened.
I’d read it—or as much as I could without opening the message—and their offer of help sat strangely under my ribs.
Like something had nudged its way under my skin and between my bones when I hadn’t been looking.
I couldn’t name what it was, only that it felt like an odd combination of uncomfortable and welcome. Cosy and burning.
The idea of accepting their help wasn’t pleasant, but I didn’t have it in me to reject it either.
There was a small tug deep inside me that craved relief, the press of their hands against my skin, the sound of their laughter as they helped me scrub the floors and throw stuff in a skip, the touch of their lips against mine.
I kept telling myself I didn’t need them, didn’t need anyone.
That letting Hunter and Bailey into my life would bring me nothing but pain.
That I’d be nothing but a footnote in their lives.
But fuck, I wanted them. I wanted to need them so much it hurt, and that was more terrifying than anything I’d ever faced in my life. It felt like I was trying to carve my heart out with a blunt, rusty knife, without even the promise that they’d want it.
I’d never been good at relationships, too closed off and difficult for most people, too independent and reliant on myself. Too likely to wander off for a week without notice. Too stubborn. Too reluctant to admit when I needed something.
My flaws had made me unwilling to try because what was the point of opening myself up to someone who’d throw it all back at me within a month?
Easier to stick to casual sex to fulfil my physical needs and ignore my emotional ones. Men had been doing that for hundreds of years. Might as well keep up the tradition.
“Everything okay?” Jonny asked as he stacked the baking trays up in a neat pile. “Nobody’s pissed at you, are they?”
“No,” I said quickly, shoving my phone back into my pocket like it was burning my skin. “Just a few people saying thanks for letting them know, sending sympathy, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, empathy, no wonder you look like you’re having an allergic reaction,” Jonny teased.
“Fuck off,” I said, rolling my eyes at him and ignoring the way Bacon laughed. “You too, Bacon.”
“What? I didn’t say anything!”
“You laughed.”
“Excuse me for having a sense of humour,” Bacon said.
“One of us has to. The other one got all the looks.”
Bacon grinned. “Wrong again, Eggs. I got both.”
“Fuck off! What does that leave me with?”
“I dunno. I’d say charm, but you’ve fuck all of that too.”
“Thanks,” I said. This was why I loved Bacon and why we’d been such good friends for so long. We could take the piss out of each other until the cows came home, but when shit hit the fan, we’d be first on the scene—whether that was throwing the first punch or bringing a Maccies breakfast.
“You’ve got bad facial hair,” Bacon said with a shit-eating grin, deliberately searching around for something to annoy me and take my mind off the rest of my shit.
“Hey! It’s getting better!” I knew my attempt at a moustache and stubble was shit.
After years on testosterone, my body still refused to get with the programme and grow proper facial hair, which was more irritating than it was dysphoric.
Greenie lovingly said it looked like I’d stuck a dead hamster to my face. Wanker.
I didn’t actually want facial hair because it was a pain in the arse to deal with, but I kept growing it because I was a stubborn fucker and it was a point of principle now.
As soon as I got anything half-decent, I’d probably shave it straight off.
I didn’t think my face would look too different, or feminine, without it because I’d inherited my dad’s jawline.
Alongside his inability to grow a fucking beard.
“Yeah, I suppose. Better than Greenie’s anyway,” Bacon said. He gestured at the two fridges nearest him, which had both died during the flood. “What do you want me to do with those?”
“They’ll need emptying.” I sighed. “They’re full of cookie dough. It’ll all need to go in the bin.”
Bacon thought for a second. “Can I take it?”
“What? It’s potentially contaminated cookie dough! You don’t want that.”
He shrugged. “I might.”
“Fine, but you’re not selling it. And if it gives you food poisoning, then on your head be it,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“Eh, I’ll be fine. Not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.” He pulled open the fridge doors. “Mate, the water hasn’t even gotten in here. Everything’s fine.”
“Jesus Christ, Bacon! Does food hygiene mean nothing to you?” I asked as he began taking out bowls of cookie dough and inspecting them, checking the flavours rather than the state of them.
“Not outside of work.” He held out a bowl to Jonny. “Want some? I bet your team’d eat them.”
“Probably,” Jonny said. “Don’t know if they should, though. We’ve got a game on Saturday, and Clive’ll kill me if I give everyone food poisoning.”
“More for me then,” Bacon said with unrivalled glee.
“Eh, I’ll take a bowl,” Jonny said, holding out his hand. “I can always stick it in the freezer. Freezing it then cooking it should be fine, right?”
“I’m not getting involved,” I said. “I’m going to get some air.”
Leaving them to their discussions and negotiations, I walked outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket more from habit than need. The message from Hunter and Bailey was still there, burning a hole in my screen.
Would it be so bad to lean on them? Just for the night.
If I was going to Lincoln anyway, maybe I could sneak out and see them. Let them shut my brain down for a few hours so I could sleep instead of worry.
We’d cross the bridge of helping with the kitchen when we got to it. First, I wanted their arms around me and their mouths on mine.
Aiden
Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m coming to Jonny’s tonight because he doesn’t want me to be alone. Think I could pop round? Might not be until late. If that doesn’t work it’s fine, I know you’ve got training tomorrow
Bailey
You’re welcome whenever. Just let us know when you’re on your way
A smile clawed its way onto my face as I chewed my bottom lip.
Maybe, just once, it would be okay if I let someone else take care of me for a change.
And maybe that someone could be two people instead of one.