Chapter 10
Aiden
From the moment I saw Jay’s face—bruised, battered, and barely recognizable—I became a man on a mission. No way in hell am I letting that bastard touch him again. I booked a one-way flight without thinking twice. I’ll stay as long as Jay needs me.
Fortunately, even though it was late, my neighbor Martha was still awake with the TV blasting, so I asked her to watch Maisy and Daisy.
I packed a week’s worth of clothes into my travel bag, knowing I can wash or buy whatever I need.
I can manage schoolwork on the road, and since I’ve decided not to film any new content, I can upload videos and photos from my archives from anywhere.
Watching the orgy footage Mac sent me earlier felt like stepping outside myself, seeing Jay and me tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, and the wild intensity between us.
My cock reacted before my brain did, and I came so hard I felt dizzy.
But now I feel sick because the same footage set Ray off and left Jay broken and hiding in a cheap hotel room.
The guilt weighs heavily on me, but it only fuels my anger. Unable to sleep, I get a rideshare and head straight to the airport.
Catching an early morning flight, I’m running on fumes by the time I land in Portland.
After picking up a rental car, I pair my phone with the Bluetooth and plug Jay’s hotel address into the GPS.
With every mile closer, the urge to see him grows stronger, to make sure with my own eyes that he’s okay.
I texted Lauren before I boarded to let her know Jay was hurt and where I was headed. As soon as I turned off airplane mode after landing, her response came in.
Lauren: Call me once you’re in Portland! What the hell happened?
On the drive to Jay’s hotel, I tap the hands-free and call her back. She answers right away.
“Aiden, what happened to Jay? Is he alright?”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to get into it over text,” I tell her, watching the road. “The short version is: Ray got the footage of Jay and me in Florida. He didn’t take it well and beat the shit out of him.”
Lauren gasps. “Are you kidding me? How badly is he hurt?”
I quickly share what I know: the details of Ray’s assault, Jay’s face, already black and blue, and his look of utter defeat that nearly wrecked me.
“Lauren, I swear to God, I’ve never wanted to kill someone so badly in my life.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “I’m glad you’re there for him. But please don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll try. I’m driving to his hotel now, so I’d better go so I can focus.”
The GPS tells me my next turn while I’m talking to her.
“Before you go,” her voice sharpens into that motherly tone, “listen to me. I know how much you care about him. But right now, he needs a friend. He’s coming out of a toxic, abusive relationship. He’s going to need space to heal. Don’t push him into anything more.”
I let out a breath. “I had a lot of time to think about this on the plane. If I want more with him, and I do, I need to give him time.”
“Good. Keep me posted. I love you.”
“Thanks. I love you too.”
Swinging through a fast-food drive-thru, I grab Jay coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and water for myself. I ate on the plane, and I’m already buzzing from too much caffeine, but I want him to have something warm in his stomach.
By the time I pull into the hotel parking lot, my nerves are stretched thin. I texted Jay when I landed, but he hasn’t answered. Every horrible scenario has run through my mind. Finally, my phone buzzes.
Jay: Hey, I just woke up. Where are you?
Aiden: I just parked at the hotel. I’m on my way up.
I leave my bag in the trunk, grab the food and drinks, and head for the second floor. My knuckles rap on the door, and when it opens, my heart sinks.
He’s standing there in a thin T-shirt and sleep pants, his hair sticking up in wild tufts. His eyes are bloodshot, and the bruises have darkened overnight, with purples and blacks covering his face. He looks wrecked, like someone dragged him through hell and left him there.
“Hey,” he says, his voice thin and exhausted.
He steps aside to let me in.
“Hey,” I reply, handing him the bag and coffee. “You look terrible. Did you get any sleep?”
“Thanks for this,” he says, clutching the cup and the food. “Some, but I woke up around five with a pounding headache. I took more pills, iced my face, then fell back asleep around seven. I just woke up.”
I hover awkwardly. Every part of me wants to gather him up and hold him, but Lauren’s voice echoes in my head: be his friend. But friends hug, right?
“Can I give you a hug?” I ask, letting him decide.
“I’d really like that,” he says softly, stepping into me.
I gently wrap my arms around him, being careful not to hurt him. His body is warm and trembling against mine. His hair smells faintly of the shampoo he must have used last night, and as he exhales, I can feel the tension drain out of him just a little.
“You’re safe now,” I murmur. “I won’t let anything else happen to you.”
He pulls back too soon, as if he doesn’t trust himself.
He glances up at me, then looks away. “Thank you. I still can’t believe this. I didn’t even defend myself.”
“You don’t have to defend anything,” I tell him firmly. “You didn’t deserve this. He’s a bully and a coward.”
Jay swallows hard, shaking his head. “I know…I mean, I read about the signs of an abusive relationship last night. All the red flags were there. I just never thought they applied to me. How did I not see it?”
“Jay,” I say, steadying my voice, “you survived it. That’s what matters. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”
I want to keep talking, to tell him how much I hate the bastard who did this to him, but I hold it in. What he needs isn’t my rage; he needs me to be his friend and to be patient. And I’ll be here for him as long as it takes.
“In the meantime, we need to deal with what’s in front of us,” I tell him, my voice firm but as gentle as I can make it. “Hopefully, it won’t take much to get you into urgent care.”
He winces as he shifts on his feet. “My side hurts worse this morning. The painkillers barely took the edge off. And my nose…” He touches it gingerly, flinching. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”
“That’s why you need to see a doctor,” I say, squeezing his arm. Then I take a breath, bracing myself. “But there’s something else we need to do, and I know this one’s harder. We need to document everything with photos. And you need to file a police report, maybe even get a restraining order.”
Jay’s eyes flicker with dread. “I thought about that, but I’m on the fence. Once Heather finds out, she’ll force it. One of her clients almost died because she refused to press charges.”
“So you’ll do it?” I ask carefully.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s humiliating. I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
“Stop,” I say, my voice leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t about being tough or proving anything. This is about what happened to you. Ray attacked you; he escalated, and that’s entirely on him. Right now, the most important thing is making sure there’s a record of it.”
His shoulders sag. “Okay.”
“Good,” I say softly. “Let’s start with the pictures.”
He stands there, letting me photograph his face from every angle, the swelling and ugly purple blooming under his skin. Then, with a resigned sigh, he lifts his shirt.
My stomach knots at the sight of his torso marred with black and blue bleeding into a sickly yellow. When he turns, I see the mark of a boot print pressed into his back, as if Ray wanted to stamp ownership on him.
On the outside, I’m clinical and methodical. On the inside, I’m burning with vengeance. This man—this good and precious man—was ground into the floor as if he were nothing. The bruises will fade, but I know the harsh reality of what he’s been through won’t heal nearly as fast.
After we finish taking the photos, Jay goes into the bathroom to get dressed. I look up urgent care locations, trying to focus on logistics instead of the images burned into my brain of the tread mark stamped across his back and the purple swelling across his face.
By the time he comes out, clean clothes hanging loose on his battered frame, I’ve found a clinic just a few blocks away. I slide my phone toward him. “You can use mine to set up an appointment. Let’s get you checked out.”
He hesitates, then taps through the portal with shaky fingers. The soonest appointment is only twenty minutes out. Taking my rental, we don’t talk much on the drive.
The urgent care waiting room is quiet, with only two other patients.
He clutches the clipboard the woman at the front desk handed him, his hands trembling as he tries to fill out the information on the forms. I take it from him and write in what I can, asking him for the details I don’t know the answers to.
After a short wait, a nurse calls out his name, “Jayson Taylor?”
His voice cracks as he answers, “Yeah, that’s me.”
Then, almost shyly, he glances at me. “Would you please come with me?”
“Of course,” I say, already on my feet.
The exam is clinical, almost cold. The doctor pokes and prods, tilts his nose, and shines a light into every crevice, leaving no detail unchecked. She instructs him down the hall for X-rays while I wait, my hands tight around the armrest of the chair.
After another long wait, she returns.
“Your nose isn’t broken,” she announces, and I see a flicker of relief cross Jay’s injured face. Then her gaze sharpens. “But two of your ribs are cracked. I’m going to prescribe pain meds, and you need to ice them regularly and get plenty of rest.”
He lets that sink in and braces for the question he knows is coming.
“I need to ask, how did this happen?” She inquires, her voice steady.
Color rises to Jay’s cheeks as he falters. “It was a fight between my partner and me. He was angry, and it just got out of hand.”
The doctor looks at me, unsure if I’m the partner.
Jay notices and quickly clarifies, “This is my friend who’s helping me. He’s not the one who did this.”
She doesn’t push any further, but her eyes sharpen. “You should file a police report. With your injuries, this wasn’t just a fight; this was an assault.”
I see him shrink at the word, but I’m grateful someone besides me is saying it.
By the time we leave, he has very little energy left. He looks as if he could collapse right there in the parking lot. I drive him back to the hotel, and he sinks into bed as soon as we get into the room. He sends Heather and his mom a quick text with his new number, then passes out.
I settle at the corner table with my laptop, trying to work on schoolwork. But every few minutes, I glance up to watch him. His chest rises and falls slowly, his lips parted in sleep, the bruises stark against his light skin.
Even injured, he’s still himself. He might not be the stunning beauty I’ve seen in other men, but that doesn’t matter to me.
He’s handsome, with that quirky smile and piercing blue eyes that are so familiar and grounding.
Despite the years apart and everything we’ve been through, I know him.
His humor still matches that of a twelve-year-old boy.
He’s quiet when he’s unsure, but when he talks about something he loves, like music or movies, he could go on for hours.
It takes everything in me not to crawl into bed beside him, to wrap him up and shield him from the world. I want that more than anything. But for now, Lauren’s voice echoes in my head: He needs a friend first. So I keep my distance, even as everything in me aches to close the gap between us.