“What?” Hayes blinked, Ren’s words dragging the conversation back into focus. “I don’t need the office for that stuff.”
He eyed him. “Don’t care. You told me six months, Fox.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up. “I marked it on my calendar. Today’s the day, my friend. The CFO returns.”
“You marked it on your calendar? Of course you fucking did.” Hayes rolled to his feet. He didn’t need to be having this conversation with Ren looming over him. “I’m not prepared for that today. All the stuff I’m working on is here. None of my old suits are going to fit. I have errands to run.”
Ren pushed off the wall and walked toward him. “Don’t give me that shit. We own the company. You can wear whatever you want. And you can have someone at the office run the errands.”
A cold feeling crept through his chest, frost encasing his lungs. The office. Returning to work. Being in charge of the business again. “Ren, I—”
“Stop.” Ren clamped a hand on Hayes’s sweaty shoulder and squeezed. “It’s time, Fox. Wyatt and Jace Austin invested in us, not me. And last night I got Grant Waters on board because I assured him you were going to be back at the helm with me this week. We’re finally gathering some steam again. This is the time to return, hit the ground running, show the people who believe in us that this is a strong company.”
“You don’t need me for that,” he repeated. “It’s easier for everyone if I stay behind the scenes.”
“Fuck that noise,” he groused. “Look, I get it. It’s going to be hard coming back after all that happened. But it’s our company and there’s no reason for you to hide. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Hayes scoffed and shrugged from beneath Ren’s touch. “You think the people who work for us believe that? The cops certainly don’t buy it.”
“If any of our employees don’t, they can fuck off and go work somewhere else,” Ren said, the words sharp and his jaw going tight. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I care that your office has been empty for too damn long. The place needs you back. Shit, I need you back. I didn’t sign up to do this on my own, man. I’ve kept things going, but you know we’ve always been better as a team. Balls are getting dropped. I only have so many hands and mine were meant to draw, not balance P&Ls or woo investors. I’m so far out of my wheelhouse, I’m going to need a GPS to get back.”
The last words tumbled between them, a rare admission from Ren that he needed any help with anything, and that hit Hayes square. All those years ago when they’d started their original company, now renamed FoxRen Media, they’d gone into partnership not just because they were best friends but because business-wise, they complemented each other.
Ren was the creative one—an artistic genius and idea man—but scattered in his thoughts and methods. Impulsive. When they’d met as teens, Hayes had been the one to help temper that, to slow him down and show him how to focus his ideas. To find ways for Ren to channel all that talented energy into something useful so he could get away from the hell he’d been living in at the time. And on the flip side, Ren had kept Hayes from playing it too safe in business, had helped him take risks, think outside the box. He’d also been the one to make sure Hayes didn’t work himself to death and had some fun in between.
But Hayes had left Ren on his own with the company for three and a half years. Longer really, since Hayes had pretty much checked out after he’d been charged. Since getting out of prison, he’d taken back the basic financial duties, but he hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day operations. He’d put that all on Ren’s plate and left it there. He’d thought staying out of it would be for the best. He didn’t want to deal with the rumors and discomfort of employees. He didn’t want his past tainting the newly renamed company or Ren by default. Ren already had enough in his own past to deal with.
But now, standing here and looking at his best friend, he realized that he’d been acting like a damn coward. No, he couldn’t go back to how things used to be. That Hayes was dead. But that didn’t mean he got a pass to leave Ren on his own to handle all the work of running the company. That didn’t mean he got to hide.
Hayes released a breath and wrapped the towel around the back of his neck, pulling it taut. “Can I at least finish my workout first?”
Ren’s mouth curved into a victorious smile. “Of course. But you know, if you just got laid, you wouldn’t need to do Thor’s workout every morning to shake off all that frustration. See how relaxed I am this morning? You should’ve come to that party with me last night. Lots of fun to be had.”
Hayes grunted, but the comment dug into him like a burr. Ren thought Hayes’s self-imposed abstinence was ridiculous. Maybe it was. His body certainly protested on a regular basis. He’d found ways to work around the need, accepting that nothing would ever be a substitute for the real thing. But anytime he thought about going there again with anyone for real, everything inside him locked up.
Things weren’t as simple as Ren was making them sound. Hayes didn’t have vanilla sex. It’d never done anything for him. Dominance and kink were inextricably twined with his desire. But that lifestyle was the one thing he could never allow himself again. Going to the party with Ren would’ve been the worst kind of torture. Seeing all his old friends from The Ranch, being reminded of the life he’d once had, knowing he could never have it again. It was too much to face.
Ren sighed when Hayes turned away. “You know, Grant asked about you last night. He said your membership is still yours if you want it. And there are submissives he trusts implicitly who—”
“No.” The word was a bark—loud and hollow in the cavernous garage. He didn’t even want to hear the words. His fists curled.
Ren was silent for a long moment. “And my offer still stands. I wasn’t so wasted that I don’t remember what I said.”
Hayes’s teeth clamped together. He didn’t need to be reminded of that either. He thought about it every goddamned time he looked at Ren lately. A few months ago, on one particularly rough night after getting out, he and Ren had gotten shit-faced drunk. And Ren had put it out there. If you can’t trust anyone in your bed, fuck me. Close your eyes and pretend I’m a submissive. Hold me down, hurt me, whatever you need to do. You know I can handle it. I’ve handled worse than you.
The offer had knocked Hayes right onto his ass. They’d never gone there despite Ren being openly bi and Hayes having experimented a time or two with guys when he was in college. He and Ren had shared submissives. Dominated them as a team. But he and Ren had always kept a clear line between them. When they’d met, Ren had been seventeen and so fucked up by the guy he’d been with that he’d expected everyone to use him, to treat his body like a commodity. Ren had made offers, but Hayes had sworn then that he’d never touch him, never take advantage, and he’d kept that promise.
He’d done it to protect Ren. But now he was keeping that line there to protect himself.
This friendship was his anchor right now. Unlike most of the other people who had called themselves friends, Ren had stood by him when he’d gone to prison, not just believing him unequivocally but fighting to get him out. He couldn’t screw that up and break that long-standing promise for the simple relief of slaking his lust and curiosity. Plus, he knew Ren was only offering because he was worried about Hayes. After what he’d been through as a teen, Ren exclusively topped and had never given up control to anyone again. He wouldn’t willingly offer himself to Hayes for any other reason than pity.
