Page 80 of A Life Chosen

Mathias’s gaze dropped to the man’s hand resting on the bed. That night, holding him down as Martin attended to the mess of his shoulder, he’d watched Rayan dig his nails into the table, leaving marks in the wood.

I’ve loved you for years.

The vise tightened, black spots crowding Mathias’s vision. “Get out,” he growled.

Rayan stood slowly, watching him for a moment before turning and leaving the room.

Rayan awoke on the couch to discover it was morning. He’d spent the night slipping in and out of a half sleep, the events of the previous day as surreal as any dream. He stood, ignoring the tired weight of his limbs, and saw that the door to the bedroom was open, the bed empty.

Regret surged through him. There was so much he still wanted to say. He’d barely touched the man, holding himself back… for what? He would never see him again.

The previous night, he’d watched as a piece of Mathias had caught on something, beginning to fray. To speak of his past like that and see him so conflicted, his own body turning against him…

Rayan grabbed his keys and sprinted out of the apartment. The air was slowly warming, the sky a foggy blue. He strode down the street to the main road, checking in both directions for any sign of him. He knew the chances of spotting him were almost nonexistent. If Mathias had left, he would be impossible to find by now.

But Rayan could not bring himself to return home. He continued, ducking into alleyways, down side streets. Finally, with his heart in his throat, he turned back. He cursed himself. He’d been given an unprecedented chance, and he had utterly blown it.

As he rounded the corner of his apartment building, Rayan saw an unmistakable figure crossing the street ahead. The sureness of his gait, the muscular outline of his body, the way he looked straight ahead as if daring the world to challenge him—he would have recognized Mathias anywhere.

He slowed when he caught sight of Rayan approaching. He held a cigarette in one hand, his wet hair slicked back, wearing a fresh change of clothes. No doubt, he’d returned to his hotel, oblivious to Rayan’s distress.

It dawned on him that this was what Mathias must have felt when Rayan had vanished without a word. But there’d been no flood of relief for him, who’d gone looking and had found nothing, the ache not abating, only intensifying. Rayan felt a barb of remorse. He’d put Mathias through that.

Rayan stopped before him. Not sure what to say, only wanting to keep him there, give himself time to think. “There’s a promenade by the ocean,” he offered hesitantly. “It’s not far from here.”

Mathias looked at him, bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. He gave a shrug, and they fell into step, following the curve of the road as it turned toward the sea. After several blocks, they crossed onto a narrow walkway that stretched along the shorefront. It was cloudy and unseasonably cold, and the beach was practically deserted.

“Not sure why I moved to an island,” Rayan said offhandedly. “I can’t swim.”

His mother had been afraid of the water, his father unconcerned with whether he could or not. And they’d never spent holidays at the beach or weekends at the pool. Why bother?

They walked in silence, the wind curling the smoke from Mathias’s cigarette above his head. Stopping at a small lookout, he flicked the waning butt down to the sand below. From the corner of his eye, Rayan watched as Mathias stared out at the waves, his face implacable. He had trouble believing this wasn’t all a daydream he was experiencing, with the real world clamoring just out of sight, trying to force its way in.

“Your father,” Mathias said after a moment. “He never came back for you?”

Rayan frowned, caught off guard. Shortly after his mother died, he’d been sure his father would find them. They’d had no one else. His refusal to do so had only made their abandonment complete.

“He didn’t want us. Courts can’t make you take kids you don’t want.” A flock of seagulls circled overhead and dropped one by one to the beach. “So many ways for parents to fuck up their children,” Rayan said with a shrug. “Mine left me for dead. Yours taught you about love by withholding it.”

Mathias knocked him backward, and he hit the metal railing. Rayan straightened up, refusing to look away. The man’s eyes were black with rage.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he said.

Rayan had seen this look many times right before Mathias shattered a jaw, smashed a kneecap, or kicked a man until he pissed blood. The anger was a tool, a way to raze everything left in its wake.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know how. Isn’t that why you’re here?” Rayan challenged.

Mathias turned and headed back down the walkway.

“Look at me!” Rayan knew if he let go now, he would lose the man for good.

Mathias stopped but didn’t turn.

“You wanted me gone. I left. But now you’re here. What does that mean?” Rayan asked.

“It means nothing.”

“The hell it does!” Rayan growled. “What happens when pushing me away doesn’t work anymore?”

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