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“Would you like coffee?” Bobby asked as he brought the pot to the table along with a mug.

Mason shook his head, still not meeting the man’s gaze. Instead, he picked at the label on the pill bottle. “Could I have a glass of water, please?”

Rig set a plate heaped high with eggs, toast, bacon, and hash browns as well as a large glass of ice water on the table. Without looking up, Mason murmured his thanks and then poured two aspirins into his hand, popped them in his mouth, and took a large gulp of water, wincing as he swallowed. He took a few more sips, the cold fluid easing his throat just a little, before setting his glass down. He felt stupid sitting there, in his own home, acting as if he were a shy, timid guest.

Mason reached up and ran his fingers along the leather collar on his neck, needing to feel the connection to Gregory and Charles, searching for their strength. The skin beneath the leather prickled with pain. He hadn’t taken it off since the accident, knowing he should, the skin beneath needing to breathe and heal, but he just couldn’t seem to make his fingers work each time he’d started to release the buckle. They would begin to shake so violently at the thought of losing this small connection with his Doms, even for a brief moment, while he doctored the skin. He hadn’t been able to do it.

As he sat there, the pain helped him to connect with them, to find strength in them. He began to lift his head, still not sure what he was going to say but wanting to get it started and over with.

“You want to talk about last night?” Rig asked, his voice deep and husky. A whiskey-and-cigarette tone that was low, soothing.

Mason met Rig’s eyes for the first time. He wasn’t particularly handsome, or rather he wasn’t what most would consider handsome; he had a hard edge to his features, but his green eyes were gentle and full of concern, softening the effect of the hardness. For some reason, the two completely opposite looks made Rig very appealing, or perhaps intriguing was a better word.

Mason held Rig’s gaze for a few more beats of his heart, but couldn’t hold it and lowered his eyes once again and picked up his fork, choosing to focus on what was on his plate rather than those gentle eyes. “Not really,” he finally admitted, pushing the eggs around on his plate with a trembling hand. “But I guess I have to at least explain.”

“We read your notes,” Bobby said sympathetically. “Is there no one we can call?”

Mason cringed at the mention of the notes and shook his head. “No. I’ll be okay.” Taking a deep calming breath, he looked up at Bobby. “I know what it looks like, but I wasn’t going to go through with it.”

The look on Bobby’s face was what Mason would describe as tolerant yet full of doubt. “I….” Bobby waved a hand between him and Rig. “We have a hard time believing that, with what we found.” Bobby tilted his head and gave him a small smile and nodded toward Mason’s plate. “You really should eat. I know you’re probably feeling a little nauseated, but the food will help.”

The sooner he reassured these men he was fine, the sooner he could send them on their way and unpack. Mason took a small bite of egg, chewed it, and swallowed, ignoring the pain before responding to the man. “I know what it looked like, but I changed my mind. I couldn’t go through with it.” He shook his head. “It was stupid and selfish and….” He sighed heavily. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with this mess…. With me.”

“From the pills and the note we found, it sure sounded like you were going to go through with it,” Bobby muttered, but there was no anger in his voice; he was only stating a fact.

“I know but—”

“The boxes by the door and the instructions for the disposal of your remains is little hard to ignore,” Rig added, interrupting Mason’s thoughts.

“I know,” he repeated; anger and despair in equal measures caused his voice to crack. “But you don’t understand,” he bit out, dropping his fork with a clank and glaring at them both. “I wasn’t going to do it,” he yelled. “I changed my mind, okay?” Both men continued to stare at him with disbelieving looks, which let the anger bubble up just a smidge more than the anguish, and he lashed out. “You have no fucking idea what I’ve had to deal with…. What I’ve been through.” Tears threatened, but he blinked them away. “Don’t judge me until you walk in my fucking shoes.”

Mason started to rise, but Rig put a hand on Mason’s forearm, halting his movement. He shot a warning look at Rig. Mason’s pulse started to speed, the sound rushing in his ears.

“We do know what it’s like,” Rig said sadly.

The look in his eyes made Mason hesitate. There was sincerity in Rig’s gaze, the pain of his statement evident in the tight lines around his mouth, and he got a brief glimpse of the pain he’d seen in his own reflection. But how?

“How can you say that?” he whispered and slumped back into his chair.

The hand on Mason’s forearm went from restraining to massaging. Rig’s next words caused Mason’s heart to skip a beat. “Our sub was killed in a head-on collision seven years ago.”

Chapter 7

A
FEW
long, grueling, horrible weeks ago, Mason had stood and watched a man pray over his beloved Charles’s body and utter the words “God have mercy on his soul.” His response at the time had been that there was no God, something he’d learned many years before and that had hit home that day as the storm clouds rolled in. He still didn’t believe in God. But as he sat there at his small kitchen table with two complete strangers who had shown up at the moment he’d reached the end, he had to wonder if there wasn’t at least some kind of higher power at hand.

How was it possible that not only would two men he’d never met before show up at that exact moment, but two Dominant men who had lost their submissive in the same devastating way Mason had lost his Doms?

Chance?

Fate?

“We do know what you are going through,” Bobby assured him and placed his large hand on Mason’s other arm, massaging. He became the mirror image of his partner.

Mason shook his head, doing his best to dispel the shock that coursed through him. It did little good. The chances that Bobby and Rig would show up at that exact moment were one in a…. Hell, it was mind-boggling. There was no chance and yet….

Whatever it was, it was enough to keep Mason in his seat and the pull to understand what intervention brought them all together enough to keep him from wanting the strangers to leave.

“You’re both Dominants?” he asked, glancing back and forth between them.

Both men nodded. “We’ve been together over twenty years,” Rig told him proudly, giving his partner a small smile.

“And….” Mason swallowed hard and cleared his voice. “And you lost your sub in an automobile accident?”

Again, both men nodded. “Seven years ago this past March,” Bobby said sorrowfully. “He lost control of his car on a patch of black ice and….” Bobby gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face as if he were reliving the event. When he opened them again, he hung his head, his free hand wrapped around his mug. Mason stared at him without saying a word, Rig giving him the same respect. Bobby took a moment to compose himself, took deep breaths, and then took a sip from his coffee. Bobby raised his head, gave Mason a curt nod, and said, “He didn’t make it.”

The vise grip around Mason’s heavy heart tightened briefly as Bobby’s mournful words caused Mason to spiral back to that fateful night. He heard the sound of the state trooper’s voice clear as day saying, “There’s been an accident.” He’d been fortunate that Gregory had programed their landline number as
home
into his cell phone, or Mason may not have gotten that call, and he doubted either Gregory’s or Charles’s families would have notified him. Not that it mattered in the end. Both his lovers had been dead on arrival.

“Shh.” A soft sound and a warm hand against his cheek brought Mason back to the present.

Mason’s heart pounded in his chest painfully, his breathing harsh as he opened his eyes, which he hadn’t even remembered closing, and focused on Rig, whose thumb was caressing Mason’s cheek gently. “Hey, where did you go?”

“Did you get to say good-bye?” Mason murmured, ignoring Rig’s question. God, he’d have given anything to say good-bye, to tell them both how much he loved them, needed them, beg them not to go.

Rig let his hand fall away, and Mason could tell in that moment, by the look on Rig’s face, the darkness and pain that radiated out from his gaze before he lowered it, Bobby and Rig hadn’t gotten to say good-bye either.

Rig cleared his throat, but a slight shake of his head was the only response to Mason’s question; even that wasn’t needed. Mason already knew.

“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” Bobby encouraged. “We can talk while you eat.”

Mason picked up his fork and forced himself to take a bite. His stomach churned, protesting anything after the abuse he’d caused with the vodka. Mason chewed slowly, swallowed, and hesitated, waited to see if his gut thought the small amount was worth upchucking. When it seemed as it was going to accept the offering, Mason took another small bite. When that too wasn’t rejected, he dug in, his body going from
don’t you dare
to
I’m starving
.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask how long you were with Gregory and Charles?” Rig asked.

Mason held up a finger, finished the mouthful of bacon, and washed it down with some water before answering. “Twelve years.”

“No way!” Bobby barked, voice rising in apparent shock. “You couldn’t have been. You would have had to have been, what… ten, when you met them?”

“I get that a lot.” Mason chuckled, thankful for a short reprieve from the darker conversation. “Actually I was twenty-one.”

Bobby looked down at his hand as if he were counting on his fingers, and when he looked back up, he still had a surprised expression on his face. “That would make you thirty-three?” He arched a disbelieving brow at Mason. “I don’t believe it.”

“I was a late bloomer, didn’t hit puberty till I was nearly twenty, and my small stature and lack of body hair doesn’t help dispel the baby look. What about you two?” he asked.

“I bloomed many, many—”

“Many,” Rig added and then lowered his head when Bobby glared at him.

“Yeah well, you ain’t no spring chicken yourself there, Mr. Beckworth,” Bobby reminded him and then said to Mason, “I’m forty-nine plus one and Rig here is forty-eight, and I’m still having a hard time believing you are that old,” he said doubtfully.

“I have the documentation to prove it,” Mason assured him. “And thirty-three is not that old,” he said and then popped a piece of bacon in his mouth. “Are you two here on vacation?”

“Yes, but why anyone would want to come to Florida in the middle of summer is beyond me,” Bobby grumbled and shot a glare at Rig. Rig gave him a tolerant smile and continued to eat his breakfast.

“Where do you live?”

“New York,” Rig said around a bite of egg.

The three of them talked about New York City. They kept the topic on food, shopping, and art centers, as well as the insane traffic and crowded sidewalks. Mason had always wished to see a big city like New York, San Francisco, or Chicago, but knew it would never happen. The number of people alone made it an impossibility. Thankfully, the conversation didn’t steer back to Mason as they finished their breakfast and the two older men helped him clean up the kitchen. But it was a short reprieve.

“Thank you for breakfast and helping me clean up,” Mason said sincerely as he put the last dish away. “And…. Yeah, and for being there for me last night, I really appreciate it, but I have some chores to take care of and…. Yeah, well… thanks.” Mason shrugged and started to move toward the front door, hoping the two would get the hint and follow him.

“The note said you have no friends or family,” Bobby said gently.

“I’ll be fine, really,” he assured them and opened the front door. “I’ll call my family doctor and get checked out, but honestly I’m fine.”

“It’s Sunday, Mason,” Rig said, stepping up close. He stopped before he moved out the door and stood directly in front of Mason. “We can give you a ride to the hospital, have you checked out.”

“For a hangover?” Mason balked and took half a step back.

“Mason. You were in a very bad place when we found you,” Rig said grimly. “We can’t just leave you here alone.”

“He’s right,” Bobby added, coming up to stand next to Rig. “We probably should have taken you last night. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I apologize for that.”

Mason tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, doing his best to come up with something to say that would convince them he really was fine. Actually,
fine
probably wasn’t the best word choice, but he was better and that was something to grasp on to. He’d reached a turning point the night before, and he was still standing, still breathing, and that was more than he’d thought he could do. He held his breath for a heartbeat before letting it out and lowering his head to meet their concerned gazes.

“Again I apologize for putting you through that last night. It was unfair and I’m really, really sorry. But I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt I am not going to off myself.” Mason rubbed at his tired eyes and huffed out a breath. “You don’t know me so I’m not sure how I can convince you that I’m being sincere, but I promise to lock up all the pills and hide all the sharp objects.”