There was a battle going on inside of Forest. Connor could see it being waged right on the man’s handsome face. The tension in his body ran down his shoulders and into his hands. Connor watched it spread, seizing up Forest’s long limbs and finally into his face, where a tincture of fear tightened his mouth. Something—everything—was holding the young man back. It wasn’t the same as the skepticism Connor often saw in Miki’s eyes. No, this was different, a deep-seated trepidation born of something dark in Forest’s past.
Connor ached for the man in front of him because he could see the damaged little boy cowering inside of Forest. Frank might have pulled Forest out of the deep icy waters he’d been drowning in, but Frank did next to nothing to chase away the cold burrowed into Forest’s soul. Its desolation resonated, creating ripples of unease most would shy away from.
He was going to give Forest that chance to warm up inside—because if it helped alleviate the bewildering heat growing in himself, Connor was all in. He just hoped he didn’t lose himself in the process.
“No, I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” he admitted. “But I don’t know why not. I don’t even know why I’m here. How’s that for sharing. I don’t know why I’m by for coffee—I don’t live around here, but it’s not that bad a drive from work. I can’t tell you why I need to see you, to make sure you’re okay. Sometimes I think I’m crazy for coming by, but if I don’t, it bugs me—gets under my skin like bugs eating me alive. So there you go. My share.”
“Fuck, so it’s like you’re my stalker, but you don’t know why?” Forest’s mouth quirked into a half grin. “That’s weird. Really fucking weird.”
“Told you, no idea why.” Connor tried to shrug it off, but the unease lingered.
His life’d been simple—uncomplicated even. For as long as he could remember, he’d known what he wanted to be, who he’d wanted to be. Hell, he even had an example of that man in his father. Being a cop was as natural to Connor as having black hair or blue eyes. He just didn’t think about it. His life plan’d been all laid out: college, police academy, a house, then wife and kids.
He’d been on track—until he’d wrapped his arms around the man sitting across the counter from him, and suddenly, Connor found himself floundering in a snarl of suffocating dreams. Now all he wanted was something he couldn’t grasp. The knowledge of it hovered just out of his sight, like a ghost slipping in and out of a haunted mirror, visible only out of the corner of his eye but gone when he looked straight at it.
“I suck at it. I get nervous and then shit pours out of my mouth.” Forest shook his head.
“Anything. No judging,” Connor promised.
The tired in Forest’s body broke through, and he sagged. Spreading his hands on the counter, he stretched out his arms and worked his shoulders back and forth as if trying to loosen some of the tightness in his body. “I’m not good with people.”
“You seem pretty good with me. And with Jules,” Connor pointed out softly.
“You kidding? People scare the shit out of me. I mean, I try to hide it, but hell, it’s always right there. Jules—the guys who come to the Sound for gigs—hell, I don’t even want to think about how much you freak me the fuck out.” Forest pointed to a cabinet behind Connor. “There’s some Jack in there. Can you hand me the bottle?”
“How old are you again?” Connor teased as he retrieved the whiskey. It sloshed about, a third of it already gone.
“Dude, I’m twenty-three, and I went through puberty around musicians. You think this is going to be the first drink I’ve ever had?” Forest took the bottle and opened it, setting its cap down on the counter. “Want some? There’s glasses behind you.”
“No, I’ve got to drive.” He pointedly looked at the futon behind Forest. “I don’t think that’s big enough to hold us both.”
Forest took a healthy mouthful of whiskey, swallowing it as Connor slid bacon strips into a skillet. The meat sizzled a bit, and Connor turned down the gas until the flame was low so the bacon wouldn’t burn.
A few minutes and a couple of mouthfuls later, Forest began to talk.
“I fucking never know what to say. Like now, what do I tell you? Do I tell you that, yeah, I fucked guys for money when I was a kid, and Frank took me in because he’d gotten a wild hair up his ass one night to save the world?” Forest’s words were mingled with a heavy dose of disgust. “Or do I talk to you about how fucking hard it is to hear someone else talk about how great their family is, and I have no idea what to say about mine? Frank was my dad because he wanted to be. Sure, he wasn’t like the greatest, but I knew I had someplace to crash and food to eat whenever I wanted something. More than I had before. Shit, my mom didn’t even show up for any of the hearings when Frank asked to adopt me.
“And some asshole—some fucking asshole killed Frank, and for what? No one knows. And why someone shot the Amp up to shit? ’Cause between that and Frank, I’m beginning to think I should just burn the whole fucking place to the ground and run away. That’s all I’ve got to talk about. There’s nothing else I can do. Shit, I don’t even know where to start.”