The second Gerry opened his eyes the next morning, the ache set in. Not the muscles in his legs that screamed from walking the previous night, or the stiffness in his joints from impersonating a drowned rat for hours, either. It was the pain in his chest—deep down in the guts of him—a gnawing reminder of what had happened, and how badly the incident had been managed. This chaotic, self-serving world was not his place. These pompous, throw-you-to-the-wolves assholes were not his people. He loved Mark; he really did. But it was obvious that love was a one-way street. There was no circumstance that Gerry could come up with in his head where he’d have watched in silence as Mark was dragged away. There wasn’t a thing that Mark could say to him that would turn him as cold as Mark had appeared th
