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looked tired, washed out, his face even paler than usual as he stared at Nick. Nick held his gaze for a second or two then moved away to the stove. He took off the lid and stirred his Bolognese.
    “Are you hungry, Owen?” he asked. “I want to put the spaghetti on.”
    “I’m hungry,” was the soft reply. “Thanks.” Owen sat down at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers nervously. Socks jumped off Nick’s shoulder and went to sit with Owen. Owen smiled as his fingers stroked the monkey’s head. Then he spoke softly. “Nick, I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were right. I was a selfish prat.”
    Nick turned. Owen’s face was shadowed, his eyes tired. That sparkle had gone and Nick wanted more than anything else to see it come back. He shrugged. “It’s all right. Just forget it.” Nick snapped hard spaghetti in half, lowering it into the boiling water. Owen came up beside him, his breath ghosting softly in Nick’s right ear. He thought Owen whispered something but he couldn’t hear. Nick turned to Owen with an apologetic smile. “I have no hearing in that ear. So I didn’t catch what you said.”
    Owen’s eyes widened. “You can’t hear? How did that happen?”
    Nick didn’t want to tell him that his ex-lover had hit him so hard he’d burst his eardrum. He wasn’t ready for that conversation now, if ever. He shrugged. “An accident. It stuffed up my eardrum. So you need to bear it in mind.”
    Owen nodded. “I just said I was sorry again and I was an arsehole.” Nick wanted to reach over and run his thumb over Owen’s full and trembling lips but he held back. Instead he turned back to the stove. “I said it was fine.”
    “Can I still stay here? Or do you want me to go?” The quiver in Owen’s voice was more evident now and Nick turned around to see a single tear slide down Owen’s cheek. His eyes glittered but it wasn’t the spark Nick wanted to see. He put the wooden spoon he held down, pulling Owen to him as the man cried, his body shaking with sobs. Nick rubbed his back as his shirt turned a darker shade of green from tears. “Shush,” he soothed as he pressed Owen close to him. “It’s okay, Owen. I’m not mad with you. You can stay as long as you need.”
    Owen’s voice was muffled. Nick felt his lips move against his chest. “I jumped because I miss him so much. They killed him, Nick.”
    Nick felt a chill down his spine. “Who, Owen? Who did they kill?”
    “My boyfriend Jules. Two years ago. I held him while he died and I couldn’t save him.” Owen raised his face, his eyes searching Nick’s face. “We were in a supermarket buying booze and there was a robbery. Jules got in the way and the bastards shot him. Then the cops arrived outside and they scarpered.” He heaved great shuddering breaths. “I tried to stop the bleeding but it just kept coming out. By the time the paramedics got there he was dead.”
    “Christ, Owen,” Nick pulled him into his arms, stroking his hair, kissing his ear, anything to tell the shaking man in his arms that he wasn’t alone.
    “Jules and I were together a year. I loved him and they took him away from me.” Owen’s voice sounded dead. “That night you found me, I was on the boat his family owned with his parents and his brothers and they were talking about him all the damn time. They seemed to think it would bring him back if they kept mentioning his name. It got too much. I went below and found an old jersey he used to wear tucked behind the bunk we’d shared. It still smelt of him.” His voice was anguished. “I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to see him again.”
    Nick’s tears prickled in his own eyes at the grief in Owen’s voice. Nick had been abused, beaten and left for dead but he’d never had someone he loved die in his arms.
    Owen carried on. “The boat wasn’t too far from the shore, I saw the shoreline. I took off my shoes and just jumped in. It was fucking cold and I lost my breath. I don’t know how long