Maybe it was time. Maybe this was always how it was meant to go. But Thomas wasn’t worried about himself. He was worried about the rest of them. His family. His sons. His grandbabies. Thomas had built a skyscraper on quicksand and now it was about to collapse and swallow them all.
He roared, the sound doing nothing to quell the turmoil churning within him. It wasn’t about the money. He didn’t give a fuck about the money. What they were asking for wouldn’t even put a dent in the Mulvaney fortune. But that wasn’t the point. This was personal. That video was personal. But it didn’t make any sense. They were all dead. Everybody who knew the truth was dead…weren’t they?
Thomas collapsed back into his office chair. He usually had all the answers. He almost always knew exactly what to do but, this time, he was lost. Usually, he could call in favors, get the boys involved, but he couldn’t do that with this. He couldn’t tell his sons what he’d done. He’d spent years drilling into their heads that there was only one unforgivable curse. One thing he could never forgive. How could he tell them he was the one who was unforgivable?
He picked up his cell phone, pressing the send button before he could even acknowledge what he was doing.
“It’s three in the fucking morning, Thomas,” a voice rasped.
Thomas. That was all he called him anymore.
Thomas got his agitation. He did. This wasn’t his first drunken call to the man he’d tried to call his son. Hell, he couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he’d called Aiden when he’d had too much to drink. He’d made his suffering Aiden’s problem one too many times, but he didn’t know what to do. He was scared. Thomas was scared to death, and when the world got to be too much, there was only one person who quelled his fears.
“Aiden.” Thomas said his name like a plea, like a prayer.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden barked, far more alert than seconds before. “Is someone hurt?”
Me. I’m hurt. I’m bleeding.
He wanted to tell him everything but all that came out was, “I need you.”
Silence stretched before Aiden finally said, “I can’t fucking do this with you anymore. You can’t keep doing this to me. I won’t let you.”
That was fair. More than fair. Thomas had dragged Aiden down into his own shit again and again. It was only fair Aiden was done. But he had nobody else.
“I need you—your help,” he corrected. “I need your help. Please. It’s important.”
“Tom—”
“Please…please, Aiden.” Thomas would be humiliated by this when he sobered up, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m begging. Please, help me. Please.”
* * *
Thomas would’ve liked to say he took the time before Aiden got there to sober up, but that would’ve been a lie. He finished off the bottle of whiskey, then fell asleep in his chair, only waking when Aiden slapped him hard enough to penetrate the fog of unconsciousness.
He opened bleary eyes to find Aiden on his knees before him, his cock taking notice of the position before his alcohol-soaked brain could catch up. Thomas reached for him, touching his bearded face before his hand fell, remembering Aiden wasn’t his to touch. Not anymore. Not ever, really.
Aiden seemed to forget that as well, reaching up and cupping Thomas’s face. “What have you done to yourself?” he asked, his voice that same low rasp that did things to Thomas’s insides.
Thomas did his best to focus on the question and not the way Aiden’s thumbs were gently brushing his cheekbones, like he was something Aiden cared about. Like he was someone Aiden still loved. “I fucked up,” he blurted.
Aiden studied his face like he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He probably was. It wasn’t like Thomas was making any goddamn sense.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding almost hopeful at Thomas’s confession.
Thomas scanned Aiden’s handsome face in anticipation of his next words. “I-I did something bad. Really bad. A long time ago. I…lied. And someone knows it. And they’re going to expose me.”
Thomas watched in real time as the window on Aiden’s hopeful expression slammed shut, leaving behind his usual hostility. A well earned hostility. Thomas knew he was a bastard for doing this to Aiden…again, for constantly leaning on him while giving him nothing in return, but he didn’t have anybody else.
Aiden sighed, getting to his feet and hauling Thomas up by his arm, pushing him towards the office door. He allowed Aiden to manhandle him up the stairs and into the east wing to his bedroom. He didn’t even protest when Aiden shoved him into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He would have let him undress him, too, if he’d tried. He’d let Aiden do almost anything…but that was almost what put miles between them.
Aiden didn’t try to undress him, though. He just shoved a towel into his chest. “Sober up. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done.”
Thomas didn’t argue, just waited for the door to close before stripping down and stepping beneath the near frigid spray, letting the cold penetrate the haze of alcohol as goosebumps erupted along his skin. He leaned his forearms against the wall, the spray from multiple jets beating against him at once like tiny little daggers, driving away all his thoughts until his mind was blissfully quiet. Only when he started to shiver did he quickly scrub and rinse himself before turning off the water.
When he emerged from the shower, he spotted a pile of clothing folded on the counter. Gray sweatpants and a black Chanel hoodie. He couldn’t remember ever wearing the sweatshirt. It had been part of a swag bag he’d received after a movie premiere. He’d tried to give it to Adam, but he’d refused it, saying he already had something similar.
Thomas had no idea why he remembered that in that moment, but he let the thought come and go as he toweled off and dressed quickly, combing his fingers through his hair before heading back downstairs.
