Chapter Two

The next day, Aiden felt pseudo-human. There was a lot to be said for a power shower and a long rest, waking up way past noon. The downside of that long rest was waking up with an aggressively rumbling stomach and the realization that he actually had to venture out to get groceries. Aiden doubted that the packet of peanuts he’d swiped from the plane would cut it. So Aiden kicked his ass into gear. With sunscreen smeared against the long line of his nose, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and wide-eyed curiosity, Aiden looked every bit like the tourist he hoped he didn’t come across as.

The first stop on Aiden’s little adventure was the local bakery named Tam’s Treats. Aiden was twenty-eight; it was a travesty that he hadn’t gone to a Vietnamese bakery before.

The moment Aiden stepped inside, he was hit by the welcoming aroma of fresh bread and a tangy sweetness that he wanted to find the source of as soon as humanly possible. Delighted by a display counter filled with treats and a row of packaged goods running along the center, Aiden had to pretend to not be too eager. He was all too aware of the cashier’s eyes on him as he’d entered, and acting like a kid in a sweet shop was not high on his to-do list.

“How long are you staying for?” the cashier asked. There was a smile to her voice, the slightest tilt to her head as she pushed herself up from her elbows.

“Am I that obvious?” Aiden asked, dejected.

“We don’t get a lot of tourists down this way. Tend to stick to the city.” She regarded him with the slightest smirk to her lips. Like it had permanently found its home there and knew it looked good. With black hair tied back into a messy bun, all-knowing brown eyes, and a collection of silver cuffs on her left ear, she exuded the energy of someone who knew just about everyone who stepped foot in here.

“Oh.” Aiden felt a little loss for words, almost like his two days of solitude have rendered him incapable of interacting with another human being. “It’s nice and quiet out here.”

“Too quiet, depending on who you ask,” she countered. “What are we thinking? And don’t say a croissant.”

“What’s wrong with a croissant?”

“Nothing’s wrong with a croissant, unless it’s sitting beside a bánh bò nướng.”

Aiden blinked, attention cast to the display case to try and figure out which one that was.

“I’m about to change your life,” the cashier promised, taking out a brown bag to select a green cake. “Honeycomb cake. You’ll want a sandwich, too. My place is known for world-class bánh mì.”

Aiden paused, the cogs of his brain turning—albeit slowly. “You’re Tam?”

“Yep, that’s me,” she clarified. “So yes to the sandwich?”

Aiden really didn’t have to think about it. He had been steadily working his way through the nonperishable stash of snacks in Ryan’s home, and the thought of something fresh was making his mouth water.

Once Aiden nodded, Tam put on a pair of plastic gloves and took a roll to be sandwich-ified. Cutting through that crusty exterior that Aiden was more than a little captivated by, Tam asked, “Do you drink?”

“Is alcohol a topping?” returned Aiden.

“Now there’s an idea.” Tam’s capable hands started to assemble the goods. “I just know that a cold beer pairs perfectly with a bánh mì. Try Murphy’s down the street.”

That was something that Aiden could get behind. This was Aiden’s holiday, after all, and it wasn’t like he had work tomorrow.

“Life changing, you said?” asked Aiden, taking a mental note of the liquor store’s name.

“Meeting me is going to be the best thing you do here,” Tam promised. “You got plans for the day?”

“Just exploring the area,” Aiden admitted, but he left it at that because he was not about to divulge that his next course of action was to return to the house, scouting out the local bakery being enough of an excursion for the day.

“When you leave here, take a left and walk ’round for half an hour. Straight line, you’ll get a nice view of the coast. Better than anywhere in Gubbi Gubbi country. You’ll pass Murphy’s on the way. Crack open a beer, bite into the best sandwich of your goddamn life, and enjoy the sunset while you’re at it.”

Aiden blinked at the advice as he considered. He was a sucker for a good sunset. The one saving grace of his apartment in Dublin was the rooftop. If the weather was nice enough, he would sit up there and watch the sunset across the city. It was almost idyllic, if he could ignore the shouts of the patrons milling into the nightclub across the street, excited for the night ahead.

Tam wrapped the bánh mì in crisp white paper and rang up his items. Aiden sorted through the currency with the air of panicked haste, eliciting a helpful “It’s the red one” from Tam.

“Now get a move on unless you want to miss the sunset.”

With another dip of his head in thanks, Aiden made his way back outside.

He glanced in the direction of the house, and then to the left where Tam recommended.

Aiden knew what he should do. He should go back to the house, finally unpack his bags, and get an early night’s rest. That was the usual order of things—everything else before what he wanted. That had to change.

Aiden turned left.

The walk definitely wasn’t half an hour.

Either Tam moved incredibly fast, or Aiden took a wrong turn somewhere. Which didn’t make any sense, because he’d been traveling in one direction for the best part of an hour. The bag on his shoulder was starting to ache, and his fingers grew numb, weighed down by his spontaneous purchase of beer from Murphy’s.

Why did he even buy that? Aiden hated the taste of beer.

But still, he trudged onward because he was determined to stick to this new Aiden. The Aiden who didn’t think twice about things, who did something just because he felt like it—because he wanted to; no one else. Granted, walking uphill with an increasingly painful twinge in his shoulder wasn’t what he desired to do right now.

That pressure shower was calling his name.

If he kept walking for another ten minutes, Aiden reasoned, then he could turn back to the solace of Ryan’s house with the knowledge that at least he tried to step out of his comfort zone. Ten minutes was manageable.

Manageable enough that by the time that Aiden arrived at the cusp of the hill and saw hints of the coastline that had been promised, a part of him groused that he hadn’t turned back sooner because now he felt obligated to stay.

But then he inched closer, and suddenly Aiden was in no rush to leave.

Even now, Aiden wasn’t sure why he decided to come to a residential area outside of Brisbane rather than any of the tourist traps that popped up the moment he searched for flights. But there was something about the pictures that Ryan posted on the website that drew Aiden to it. The well-kept garden, the nearby beach. How different it all looked from his pokey little apartment with paper-thin walls and dodgy plumbing.

But this view? The surprising greenery, the impossibly blue water, and the trees rustling softly in the breeze told Aiden he’d made the right choice.

It was a stroke of luck that Aiden had picked Canlaroy. The tiny town sat between the capital and the beachside resort, Noosa. Canlaroy had called to Aiden the moment he did a quick google search. With a small population, a handful of shops, and views unrestricted by surrounding houses, there was a harmony he’d hoped to find.

And with this panoramic view before him? He’d be a clown to miss it.

Aiden sat down on the edge of the dirt path, the back of his legs brushing against the rough ground. A gentle breeze rustled Aiden’s dark curls, cooling down what felt like sunburn across his cheeks. He had no intention of moving now—at least not until he’d gotten his fill of this view.

Aiden cracked open a beer, because Tam knew what she was talking about. Taking her advice had led him here, so he felt compelled to carry out the rest of it, too. Get the full experience.

The hiss was dull, unsatisfying.

Aiden took a mouthful and winced, once again questioning why he’d done this to himself. Turning his attention to Tam’s bánh mì, he unwrapped it with as much care as it had been made and took a hearty bite. He let out a satisfied groan. The bread was crisp, the vegetables fresh, and honestly? It was the best sandwich Aiden had ever had. He munched away happily, watching the waves crash up to reach the shore, imagining the sound of the relaxing impact from all the way up there.

As the sun set, casting an orange hue out across the glistening waves that just wouldn’t quit, Aiden settled back and drank until the hard ground beneath him didn’t feel so uncomfortable and his thoughts weren’t quite so marshaled.

It had been a hell of a long time since Aiden allowed himself to reflect. He was always quick to occupy himself with the next thing on his list—did he have to get the grocery shopping, was rent due, did Dan remember to put out the bins?—instead of focusing on what was bothering him. Which undoubtedly made for a hectic sort of lifestyle where he never really stopped moving.

Aiden hadn’t moved for quite some time now. Questions simmered in his mind. Questions like “what am I doing here, really?” and “how is Mam coping back home?”

His mam took up a significant portion of his worrying. He hadn’t exactly told his mother where he was going until the last minute. Not through any malicious reasoning; he hadn’t intended not to tell her. It was just…with everything that happened? He couldn’t face it. The look of judgment that would have crossed her features, the note of distaste in the air that of course Aiden had ruined the one good thing going for him. No wonder it happened, because it was Aiden. So Aiden had spent two weeks in an almost catatonic state on his best friend’s couch, only venturing out to keep up a tight-lipped appearance with his mam while undertaking her weekly schedule. The second week was spent booking everything and applying for a tourist visa.

Fuck. By now, Mam was probably furious. Who was going to look after her when Aiden was gone? His sister would cover for him, surely. Kat was a busy woman, which was an endless source of pride for their mother. But so was Mam. Her pension had to be collected, there were social outings she needed lifts to, and the lights would remain on twenty-four seven unless he switched them off. Mam had expectations that needed to be met, and if he wasn’t there to meet them—

Aiden took a breath.

He was already here. It was done. He’d done this. The whole trip was out of character for Aiden. The whole thing had really been Daire’s idea. Aiden had spent yet another night wallowing and drinking wine with them. They’d taken his hand and told him to take a break. A holiday, they said, would give him some time to himself. When Daire went to bed that night, Aiden put his haphazard plan into motion.

He’d always wanted to visit Australia, so why not now?

Granted, he was pretty sure Daire didn’t mean to drop everything and haul ass to the other side of the world for a month. But here he was, going through with the most impulsive thing he’d ever done in his life—and even that took three weeks to organize.

Everyone was right. Aiden was boring.

The acknowledgment weighed heavily on him, shoulders slumped and eyes stinging. Even his definition of spontaneous wasn’t incredibly exciting. Hell, he was just sitting there in the middle of a dirt path getting drunk, crumbs surrounding him in the dirt.

Alone.

This wasn’t adventurous. This was just sad.

Headlights cut through the darkness (and Aiden’s tears) and were joined by the sound of a thrumming engine. Aiden jolted a little at the intrusion, especially considering that not one car had passed by him since he arrived. He forced himself to settle down, until he realized that the light’s advance was slowing.

Wait.

They were stopping.

Aiden’s heartbeat kicked up a gear in his chest. Maybe they were just checking out the view.

What view, Aiden? You can barely see your hand in front of your face.

Or maybe they saw a drunk tourist on the side of the road and figured he was an easy target.

Aiden heard shoes crunching against the ground just as he shot up, spinning around to face the source of the light. Three and a half cans in meant that his vision wasn’t exactly perfect, but he could see that the source of the dazzling light was a motorcycle. Aiden could just about make out the outline of its rider beside it, front cascaded entirely in shadows.

But it was enough to know that they were considerably bigger than him, and that was enough for Aiden to decide that this was bad.

“I can’t die right now,” Aiden blurted before the dark figure spoke, if they were even going to speak before whacking him over the head with a mallet. “Dying in Australia would be embarrassing. Please don’t make me go through that.”

The one and only time that Aiden went ahead and did something for himself, outside of his realm of possibilities, and he was about to get murdered in suburban Australia. He could imagine his sister laughing, because of course that would happen to Aiden the one time he did something like this.

“I can’t tell if that’s offensive or not.”

Aiden blinked, suddenly recognizing the gruff voice.

“Tap guy?”

The man stepped around the light. All six foot plus, broad shouldered, ridiculously tapered waist of him.

“You must have a death wish. Some fuckin’ wild drivers around here. You could easily get hit.”

Aiden frowned. Not once had that crossed his mind.

“Listen,” the man continued. “Do you need a lift?”

“A lift?” Aiden glanced between the outline and the bike. “On that?”

“No, on my back.” He sighed. “Yes, on the bike.”

“I don’t even know your name.” Like that had any bearing on his aversion to riding on a motorcycle. There was just something about them that freaked Aiden out. He was much more of a fan of having four wheels solidly on the ground and traveling safely. Even if his car back home was the most unreliable thing in the world. It would often cut out in the middle of the motorway in protest if he dared to drive over eighty kilometers.

“I doubt my name would help you if I’m a murderer,” he countered. Aiden’s mouth clamped shut. Okay, there was no denying that. Aiden did think that he was a murderer—twice.

“It might. If I escape.”

“Finn.”

Aiden nodded, his throat dry. Something about actually knowing this man’s name and seeing him again trapezed directly over his belief that they’d never cross paths again. Yet here they were, and impossibly Aiden looked even worse than before.

The universe sure loved to laugh at his expense.

“Normally I wouldn’t push it. But technically you’re my responsibility. Can’t have you dying on my watch.” Finn paused, throwing a teasing smile Aiden’s way. He had dimples. Aiden bit his tongue. “It would look really bad for Ryan’s ratings.”

“What if I fall off?”

He laughed heartily. “You’re safe with me, Aiden.”

It could have been the way he said his name or the beer, but Aiden said, “Yes.”

He might have thought that agreeing to a ride was the hard part, but clearly Aiden hadn’t actually taken the bike into account. His legs weren’t cooperating with what he wanted them to do, and he was acutely aware of Finn’s eyes on him the entire time.

“Do you want me to—” Finn began, but Aiden couldn’t hear the end of that offer. He was not having this man physically haul him onto the bike. He might be a bit drunk, but he knew a recipe for disaster when he saw one.

“I’m good,” Aiden cut in. He took a breath, braced his hands on the handlebars, and swung his legs over the saddle. Like he was trying to mount a horse instead of a hunk of metal.

“Congratulations,” Finn commented, climbing on with ease—likely helped by the extra inches. “I’m officially a year older.”

“Then you must be prehistoric,” Aiden replied. He froze a moment, fearing he’d gone too far. But that hearty laugh was back as Finn glanced over his shoulder at him.

“Hold on tight, all right? I meant it when I said you’re not going to fall off.”

Aiden hesitated for a moment. Hold on where? He obviously knew the answer, and he tentatively wrapped his arms around Finn’s waist, almost afraid to touch him.

“A bit tighter than that,” Finn admonished.

“Tighter. Got it.” Tighter meant almost squeezing this man’s middle. Tighter meant Aiden’s chest pressed against his back. Tighter meant nearly zero space between them.

“Ready?” Finn asked, voice far gentler than Aiden had heard it so far.

“Yeah.” Even to his own ears, he didn’t sound convincing. “We should go. I need to pee.”

The sound of the engine drowned out any hint of Finn’s reaction, but there was a slight shake to his shoulders that Aiden could feel all too well. Impossible to ignore, just like the musky scent of his cologne. Faded from the day gone. Mingled with what smelled like soil and ocean. A contradiction of smells, but Aiden liked it. Closed his eyes and focused on that, not the road zipping by them and the wind catching in his hair.

The ride was, miraculously, short. But that didn’t stop Aiden from clambering off the bike with shaky legs. After Aiden dropped the keys no less than three times, Finn took them from him and unlocked the door. Aiden ambled inside and immediately collapsed onto the couch. He closed his eyes for what felt like five seconds, only to open them to the smell of eggs and toast. Opening even one eye felt like a mammoth effort, but it was worth it when he saw Finn placing down a glass of water and a filled plate on the table beside him.

“You can cook?” was the first thing that escaped his lips.

“What? No thank-you?” said Finn.

Aiden pulled a face. “Thank you. You just don’t look like the type.”

“There’s a lot I can do.”

“Including pulling groceries out of thin air?” Aiden replied as he sat upright.

“You’re lucky I was finishing up errands,” Finn pointed out. “Now eat and stay inside tonight. I don’t want to see your mug on the news tomorrow. Dag found face-first in a bush.”

“What’s a dag?” Aiden said, but Finn was already walking away.

He heard the front door close and then the thrum of the bike’s engine.

Today Aiden had been completely irresponsible and thoughtless. But it was possibly the best worst decision he’d made in his life.