Aaron looked at his phone again. That was the third text he'd got from Robert since brushing him off earlier in the day. The first two were short and light-hearted – 'What's up, grease monkey?'; 'You're cute when you're grumpy' – but the third made Aaron's heart skip a little: 'You ok, A? Talk to me.' Yet he still didn't want to reply.

Instead, as his day at the garage had come to an end (still without anybody else turning up) he went home, sneaking in silently so that Chas wouldn't notice him and come mothering, and grabbed a bottle of beer, taking it outside.

It was dark now, so maybe nobody would spot him heading into the churchyard. Paddy would doubtless be looking out the window, keeping an eye on him, but Aaron stuck his hood up and hoped for the best. And once he was stood in front of Jackson's grave, he opened the bottle and poured a splash onto the ground.

"That's for you, Jay," he whispered, tears coming to his eyes as they so often did. Although the ground was still wet from the rain, he sat down and faced the tombstone. He made sure he didn't do this too often; once a year was enough. And he'd missed it for a few years, being out of the country – although, of course, he' still remembered and marked the day in his own way.

"I bloody miss you, Jackson," he said. "I wish you were here. I've got meself into a mess." He wiped the tears from his eyes, and thought how strange it was to be having this one-way conversation with the first man he had ever loved. "Of course, if you were here, I'd never have looked at Robert Sugden. Well… I might have looked."

Aaron wished Jackson could see him now. Wished Jackson could see how he had changed; how he had become so much more confident and happy in himself, kinder to his family, and more open with his emotions. Because Jackson was, to a large extent, responsible for those changes in Aaron. And while that brought a lump to Aaron's throat, it wasn't just nostalgia or gratitude; it was shame. What would Jackson say, if he knew that Aaron was having an adulterous affair? Or that he had become so smitten with a man who intended to end the relationship as soon as he got married? Aaron couldn't even imagine.

"Hey, lad. Thought I'd find you here."

For a second, Aaron thought Robert had found him again. But it was Adam. Aaron didn't know whether to be thankful or disappointed, but the former outweighed the latter after a moment or two. What he needed right now was a friend, not a complication. Adam settled down on the ground next to him.

"It's Jackson's birthday, isn't it? I didn't forget." Adam pulled his knees up to his chest, sitting close enough to Aaron to make him feel supported, but not encroaching on his space. "You know what, mate, I think he'd be dead proud of you."

Aaron snorted, and rolled his eyes – which had, of course, filled again with tears.

"Nah, I mean it. He would. You've become the sort of man he wanted you to be."

"I dunno about that."

"Are you kidding? You were willing to go to jail for me, mate. And you stopped me doing anything stupid in that whole Ross situation. You're practically a saint, mate."

Aaron didn't reply, and Adam punched him on the arm – somehow being both playful and compassionate in the way that only a best friend can be.

"You should believe me, Aaron! I'm a honest man. Ask anyone. Except maybe the judge who sent me down, of course."

Aaron just shook his head, and wiped some more tears away. He rocked back and forth a bit.

"Adam," he said. "It's not true. I… I think Jackson would be disgusted with me."

"What? What are you talking about, mate?"

"There's… there's somebody… I…"

"Is it that guy you were talking about in the pub the other day? That lad who cancelled on you?"

Aaron just nodded.

"Well, that's ok! Jackson didn't expect you to be a monk for the rest of your life. He'd want you to be happy, wouldn't he?"

"I know that…"

"And it's ok to have a bit of fun, too. After Jackson you went straight on to Ed, and… you haven't sown your wild oats, have you, mate?" Adam elbowed him in the ribs, and somehow turned it into a sort of half hug. Aaron was leaning on him, crying a little into his shoulder, letting loose all the emotions he'd been holding. "Sshh, sshh, it's ok Aaron. There's nowt to cry about. Honest."

"But it's not that. It's not that, Adam."

"Well, what is it, mate? You can tell me. I'm not gonna judge, am I?"

"I… I think… I think I bloody love him."

"Well, that should be a good thing, you idiot! Although, I'm pretty peeved that I haven't even met the lad yet. What's he like?"

Aaron just shook his head, and didn't stop crying.

"It's complicated, mate. It's just so bloody complicated."

"Adam? Aaadaaam!" The cry came sharply out through the churchyard. "Adam! I didn't get Marlon to let me off early so I could play hide and seek with dead people! What are you playing at?"

"It's Vic," muttered Adam. "Don't worry, mate, I'll explain. Give me a moment."

"Nah," Aaron shook his head. "No, it's fine. Go on, go and see her." He wiped his eyes and smiled unconvincingly. "I'm fine, honest."

Before Adam could protest further, Aaron stood up, put the hood back over his head, and skulked off into the dark, leaving a very confused Victoria to find her boyfriend sitting by a grave in the dark. What Aaron didn't realise, what Adam didn't realise, was that Victoria wasn't the only Sugden in the graveyard that night. Kneeling in a dark corner, having heard everything the two men said to each other, was a very quiet Robert, brow furrowed, deep in thought.