Chapter 1
Circus
There comes a time in every man’s life where he has to choose which of his friends to give twenty-five thousand dollars.
And more importantly, which of them looks best in a swimsuit.
I take a sip of my beer and push the offer to the back of my mind. There’s still a week until Royal Swimwear wants a response, and while the money means sweet fuck all to me, Royce and Tanner could probably put it to good use.
Royce is smiling across the table like a goddamn idiot, which only makes me laugh. For someone who’s usually so guarded and straight-faced, he’s been walking on clouds since he and Tanner got together.
I lift my glass. “Congrats again, guys. If anyone can turn that filthy shack into a home, it’s you two.”
My best friend, Leon, knocks his glass against mine, and Jules giggles.
The last few weeks, I’ve been coming into town less and less, and I’m a bit worried I’m sinking back into that reclusive side of me that comes out when I need to hide from the world.
So tonight has been nice. Celebrating Royce and Tanner buying their house together actually makes me happy. Because they’re happy.
Drinks and deep-fried mozzarella sticks with my best friends in the world. Who the hell could feel down after that?
If I say it enough times I might convince myself.
Leon nudges his elbow into my side. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. I know that look.”
“Then you know there’s nothing wrong.” I force a big smile his way, which does nothing to dissolve his concerned expression. Not that I can blame him. I haven’t seen Leon since the Sunflora Festival two weeks ago, and we never let that long pass without catching up.
“I saw Rowan Harvey the other day.”
My back immediately stiffens at the name. Instinctively, I know Leon has pegged what’s wrong, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to call me on it. “That’s awesome news. I’m so happy for you.”
“Cut the shit, Circus. Why is he back?”
“Why don’t you ask him? Then we’ll both know. Or, better still, let’s just go on pretending that asshole doesn’t exist and continue to live our lives in peace.” My voice comes out a whole lot happier than I feel.
“I can strongly suggest he leaves town again.”
“No need, I already made my thoughts very clear.”
“Circus …”
“How about we skip this conversation?” I drop the happy act. “We’re here to celebrate, so why don’t we just do that?” I raise my voice. “Who wants another round?”
I slide from the booth before anyone can comment and head for the long bar where I place an order for drinks.
I add another platter of wings and mozzarella sticks to my bill, thinking that while they cook, it’ll give me a few minutes away from everyone, where I can force Rowan Harvey back out of my mind.
Knowing he’s in town, over five years since I last saw him, has had me on edge. It’s why I’ve preferred to stay hidden away at home these last few weeks, too far out for anyone to find me.
And yet, I’ve been glancing at the doors all night.
The Ugly Mug is the only bar in town, and other than driving over to Port Welling, there’s not much else to do on a Saturday night in Sunbury.
I’ve been expecting Rowan to walk in at any second, and the thought fills me with so much anger, I’m about to work myself into an ulcer.
I remind myself, again, that Rowan is firmly in the past and has nothing to do with me now.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and immediately the anxiety starts to settle.
Social media is the ultimate distractor, and whenever I’m feeling down, or thinking too much about the past, it has a way of lightening my mood.
There’s a fair few notifications waiting, but when I click over to the photo I posted earlier, of me in the garden, overlooking the rocky face of Crown Trails, shaggy hair a mess in the wind, my gut sinks.
Less than a thousand interactions.
My second post in as many weeks that hasn’t even broken four figures.
The urge to panic floods my mouth with a bitter taste, and I hurry to click back on the comments.
Circus is life
Ily please marry me
It’s my birthday can you say hi?
Omigod PERFECTION
Splash emoji
Heart eyes emoji
Love heart and eggplant emojis
Each comment fuels my need to be loved, and I store their words away in my subconscious as I tap the Delete icon, and the failure of a post disappears from memory.
I’ll do better tomorrow.
But even as I think that, I know I need more.
All the other influencers that started around the same time as me have coupled up, and it’s sent their popularity through the roof.
I’m sure that’s what Royal Swimwear is hoping will happen with me, which is why they set the stipulation of having two models in these shots.
I can’t say I hate the idea.
It’d be nice to have a friend I could share that side of my life with, but that would also come with admitting that I take pretty pictures for a living when they’re all out there working real jobs.
And I need their respect like I need air.
Like I need my followers. Like I need to pretend that just for one person, I’m the most important guy in their world.
The way I used to be for my parents.
And nope, not going there.
There’s only one day a year I let myself be a total train wreck over them, and that day is coming up soon enough.
“Hey.” I knock on the bar top to get Reynolds’s attention. “I’ll take those drinks over now.” Because torn between Leon’s questioning over Rowan or thinking about my dead parents, I know which topic I’d rather cover.
Only once I dump the drinks on the table and head back for the bar, I’m suddenly rethinking that choice. Because Rowan Harvey is standing there, clearly waiting for me.
He’s leaning his elbows back on the counter, tattooed fingers linked over his stomach and blue eyes watching me steadily.
My heart does the familiar squeeze it’s so well practiced at, and any other night, I might have been able to ignore his presence, but tonight, I’m already too raw.
So I turn on my heel and flee.
I’m out the doors and into the cool spring air before I’m pretty sure anyone has noticed I’ve left. My bike is propped up against the brick wall of the building, exactly where I left it because in a town like Sunbury, no one is going to steal your shit.
I stagger as I throw a leg over, and then it takes two attempts before my foot finds the pedal. Huh. So apparently I’m a tad drunk.
I start to laugh as I push the bike forward and struggle to hold the handlebars straight.
“You didn’t have to run out on my account.”
My head jerks up.
If hearing his name is enough to make my back tense, hearing his voice is enough to put every muscle in my body on guard.
“I haven’t seen you around,” he continues.
“No shit? Well, I’m sure that was really painful for you.” Not as painful as, say, seeing the man who betrayed you five years ago and ran off before you could get the taste of his cum out of your mouth.
“Circus, come on, I just want to talk.”
“Sorry, I don’t do that anymore.”
“Talk?”
“Give you my time.” I push off and finally get my bike moving in the forward direction, but when Rowan falls into step beside me, I realize I’m possibly going slower on this thing than if I were walking.
“Can you just hear me out?”
“Hard no.” My bike gives a solid wobble, but I correct it in time.
“Is it safe for you to be riding that thing right now?”
“Is it safe for me to be alone with you right now?”
“Circus, I—”
I ring my bell, obnoxiously loud in the quiet street, and cut off his words.
“Circus—”
I ring it again.
Then before I even see him move, Rowan steps into the street, and his hand closes over mine.
I jolt back like I’ve been shocked, and in all fairness, I think that’s what happened. I am in shock. Shock over his closeness, his warmth, his presence.
And oh hell fucking no, motherfucker. My dick has apparently gone batshit crazy because it starts to perk up.
Doesn’t it remember the last time it got all excited over him?
I stumble as I climb off my bike, and Rowan’s left standing there holding it.
“All I want is for you to accept my apology,” he begs. “Then I’ll be gone again. I swear it.”
“Aww.” I cock my head in fake sympathy. “I guess you’ll be here a while, then.”
I make the mistake of meeting his eyes, and all those years we spent together hurl back through my memories. He steps forward. There’s barely room for my bike between us. This close, it’s easy to see all the ways he’s grown up.
And the torn look on his face tells me all the ways he hasn’t.
I’d put money down that his closet door is still locked tight.
“Please, Kelly …”
My real name snaps me out of whatever that was and sets my anger to red hot. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“But—”
I yank my bike from his grip, and this time I get on it first go.
The rage is burning through my drunkenness, and all I need is to put as much distance as possible between us.
“You have no right to that name. You have no right to my forgiveness. Now get the hell out of my life.” I push off and have enough coordination to get the bike moving a bit faster. “And this time, stay there.”