He’d clung on tight, not wanting to let go, but in the end it wasn’t his choice. His hand had been forced and he knew that he had to move on because he couldn’t keep clinging to what wasn’t there. So during the day he forced a smile, wishing it was real, and pretended it didn’t matter. But at night as he lay twisted in the sheets, his breath heavy, and his skin damp he imagined strong arms wrapped around him as he stroked himself roughly. After all, he couldn’t be expected to give Danny up cold turkey. Could he?