Love Is Always Write Volume 4

icy depths, splashing and laughing. Aaron found himself sneaking a peek at Danny's muscular torso, built up from teen years driving in fenceposts, or whatever farm work involved these days. He couldn't help comparing Danny's hard muscles to his own wiry torso, with its scars inflicted during the lost years when he had been a slave to his addiction.
    Danny's curious glance when he washed away the mud from his arms came as no surprise. They were a mess, ravaged by the needle and by the self-harm that had followed. He normally wore long-sleeved T-shirts to stop people asking, but Danny was a friend now and he saw no point in hiding the truth any more. Danny, perhaps out of sensitivity, didn't ask any questions, and for that Aaron was grateful.
    The sun and the physical exertion of the ride back took the edge off the cold, and once they were huddled around the fire, frying sausages, it dawned on him that today was probably the best day of his life, ever.
    Until he realized what was missing.
    He clawed at his neck in panic, making Danny jump.
    "What is it, man?"
    "My slate heart," said Aaron helplessly. "You know, the one I always wear. The leather must have frayed and I lost it when I slid down the hill. Fuck, fuck."
    He tried not to get agitated like this in front of Danny, keen not to scare away this new friend with the displays of raw emotion that were once commonplace in his life. But he could see the concern in Danny's eyes.
    "Carly gave it to me," he explained.
    "Girlfriend, ex-girlfriend?" asked Danny. "You never mentioned her before."
    "No, Carly was - is - my drugs counselor," said Aaron. Danny would have seen the track marks on his arms, so he felt he owed him that honesty.
    Danny nodded, his green-flecked eyes full of compassion, his skin pinkened by the campfire.
    He reached out a hand and touched Aaron's arm, turning it over and pushing up his sleeve, and Aaron did not draw back at the touch of his warm hand on his bare skin, stroking the scars he had been hiding for so long.
    "Man," said Danny, shaking his head. "I had no idea. You've been through a lot, dude."
    That was all he said, and when he let his hand linger on Aaron's arm just a fraction too long, Aaron didn't make any attempt to shake him off. It was such a long time since anyone had touched him with such kindness, and Danny's touch made him feel... something. He was not sure what.
    Their eyes met, and for a moment, Aaron thought Danny was going to speak, but he pulled his hand back, and Aaron filled the silence for him.
    "I've been nearly five years clean now. It'll be four years and nine months on Friday. I can't get out of the habit of counting the days. It still feels like a miracle. I don't talk about it to most people, 'cos it feels like they'll judge me.
    "Riding's been the thing that helped me most, that and the job at the garage. They know at work, of course. My probation officer helped me get the job, and Sam's been real cool about it. He's a great boss. It was his idea that I get in touch with the motocross club and carry on with what I started when I was a teenager. But no one at the garage mentions it, and I'm grateful for that."
    "You got a girlfriend or someone you can talk to about all this?" asked Danny. In all the weekends they'd been away, they'd never really talked about personal stuff, and he realized he didn't know whether Danny was married or had a girlfriend, or whatever.
    Aaron laughed bitterly.
    "What woman's gonna give a fuck-up like me a second look?"
    "Plenty of them," said Danny, with a vehemence that surprised him. "You're a good-looking guy. Kinda remind me of Russell Crowe in the days when he was cool. You should get back out there, try and meet someone."
    Aaron laughed, and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
    "You'd be surprised at how judgmental people can be," he said. "Kind of puts you off trying, if you know what I mean."
    Half of that was true, but Aaron didn't know how to put into words that his only way of coping was not to talk about the bad things that happened in the past; that only by bringing the walls down and keeping them there could he retain his sanity and keep himself focused on the things that mattered.
    Danny sat forward.
    "Well, I'm not judging you, dude," he said. "Everyone's got something they're trying to run away from, if you ask me. People ride and do all kinds of crazy shit for different reasons. Perhaps we're more alike than you know."
    He bit his lip and looked away, as if