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and saw stains on the fitted sheet—linens he and Mac had purchased together less than two months

ago.

His rage waned, simmering to a low pulse of sadness and regret. Had he been that blind? Was

he that naive, capable of being played, and used to such a degree? Had he really been that desperate for love and companionship, so much so that he would take in a person capable of doingthis? How could he have not seen the signs? Was this what Demarco had been trying to protect him from all

along?

He felt sick—rolling nausea in the pit of his stomach.

He thought of Tyler, a man who had offered everything and asked for nothing in return. And

Alec's response had been to avoid any hint of commitment. Sure, he lived in a state far away, but how hard was it to reassure a vulnerable and widowed man that perhaps there was a future for them

together. Instead, he had picked-up and high-tailed it home with just one phone call from his past… a quagmire of a past that he was standing in right now… a past that he would never escape because it was of his own making, habitual and relentlessly repeating.

Demarco was right. He was blind to his own conventions. If this had been a trap, he'd set it

himself, and had no one else to blame. Here he was… snared again.

Welcome home, old friend.

Alec felt like he was going to throw up, the gorge in his stomach pressing.

But he was interrupted by a voice, a voice he did not recognize—youthful and intoxicated.

"Stop it! We're not even inside yet."

Someone was coming in the front door, stumbling in, loud and brazen.

Mac's voice: "Here we are… home, sweet, home. Now let's get you out those pants and on to

my cock."

"Wow," the youthful voice said. "Is this your apartment?"

"It's a brownstone," Alec said, stepping calmly into the den. "A townhouse."

The kid's eyes brightened. He couldn't have been more than twenty. Mac froze in the open

doorway. He looked haggard, but nowhere near as bad as he'd played on Skype. "You came," he said.

"You didn't tell me you had a roommate," said the boy, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "More fun all around."

Alec ignored the boy. "What did you think I'd do… just wire you the money and hope for the

best? I cared about you, Mac."

"It's OK," said the boy. "You're hot too. I like daddies."

"This is my house," Alec said. "You need to leave."

The boy's smile faded, his brow furrowed with confusion. Mac pulled him close, whispered in

his ear, and then shoved him through the front door and closed it.

"Did you tell him you'd meet him downstairs in a few minutes? I'm cool with that."