32. Jack
32
JACK
A fter I get in my truck and slam the door behind me, I let out a sigh of frustration, the noise harsh in the quiet cabin. Fucking brat . I know that thing with the tow chain was kind of shitty, but I had to buy myself time to think. He’s stubborn enough that I bet he’ll wait at least a few minutes before coming over with his tail between his legs.
I frown, my mind stuck in a loop. I’m replaying the part of the conversation where he blithely announced that he was moving out. Just like that. I thought he was more invested in this than that — I thought he would have at least fought for it a little bit.
I shift in my seat a little, annoyed at myself and uncomfortable with the thoughts that are creeping into my mind uninvited. I was the one who didn’t want to let shit get emotional. Which is why I don’t quite understand what’s happening now.
I told him right at the beginning I didn’t just see him as a charity case or a roommate… but I hadn’t known what to say after that. He’d already said we weren’t boyfriends, so that was that. I wasn’t looking for it — and I sure as shit wasn’t expecting it — but he dragged me out of my shell far enough that I thought I might be able to meet him where he was.
So I tried to make sure he knew that even if I don’t get the appeal of his fucking werewolf books and drawings, I supported him. I’ve been encouraging him to do something with himself, and giving him an opportunity to do something with his talents because I’m proud of him. I thought he’d realize that. But apparently he sees me as just an overbearing asshole.
I’m not really sure what to think anymore. If I dwell on what Bunny did, his deliberate decision to track down and message Sarah behind my back when he knew I didn’t want to contact her,I get so pissed-off I can’t see straight. It’s none of his fucking business.
But I’ve had nothing to do but think about it over the past week, as I’ve been holed up in my workshop. At some point in my reflection, it occurred to me that I’m probably on a hair trigger when it comes to partners interjecting themselves into my family relationships. Because that worked out so goddamn well last time.
But it’s not like I’m blind to the differences. Nathaniel made a deliberate decision to screw me over, whether out of a concealed distaste for my kinks or because he wasn’t willing to weather a rift with his family that would have turned off the tap of his parents’ money. Whatever the reason, he was trying to detonate a nuclear bomb into our relationship. I don’t know if ruining my life was his goal, or if he cared so little for the person he supposedly loved that he didn’t give a damn about the collateral damage.
However misguided and just plain fucking stupid Bunny’s idea was, I don’t think for a second he was trying to hurt me. He probably thought he was helping, with that open-hearted, glass-half-full optimism that seems as much an inherent part of him as the blue in his eyes. Sometimes I forget how many years there are between us, how much more of a head start I’ve had learning the many different ways life can grind you down and fuck you over.
When he texted earlier today, I didn’t even think about it. I know he was only reaching out because he was stranded and needed help. But at this point, I decided to take it. Because I really wasn’t sure what to think anymore. This past week fucked with my head.
I caught him peeking out the bedroom window late a couple of nights, so I really expected to look up at some point and see him through the window, coming towards me with a slump in his shoulders and apology written on his face. When he didn’t, it was easier than I thought to tell myself that he wasn’t worth it —and harder than I thought to believe it.
Come to think of it, where is Bunny? A glance at the time shows that I’ve spent longer than I expected pondering all this because he didn’t come ask for help with his car. I look through the rear-view mirror, then twist my body around to look behind me when I don’t see his slender frame. Where the hell did he go?
I finally notice him back in his own car. He must be freezing by now. I rap on his driver’s side window. He glares at me when he looks up from his phone.
“ What? ” Even muffled by the glass, his hostility is perfectly clear.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Figuring shit out.” His jaw is set and his brows are pulled low.
I blow out a long sigh that turns white in the cold air. Guess he called my bluff. “Come sit in the truck,” I tell him. He mouths the word what and puts a hand to his ear like he suddenly can’t hear me. Fucking brat.
“Come sit in the truck,” I repeat. Bunny scowls and crosses his arms, trying not to look cold. I laugh a little. “C’mon. You’re freezing. I’ve got the heat on inside.” He looks straight ahead and ignores me. The little shit is milking this hard .
I sigh again, in annoyance this time. “ Please come sit in the truck.” At least he glances in my direction, but his expression is unmoved.
Goddammit . It dawns on me that I’m just prolonging the inevitable. “Would you please come sit in the truck with me? I’m sorry.”
His eyes flick back to me. “Are you going to stop being a bossy asshole if I do?”
I look at him through the car window. “Can’t make any promises. But I’ll hear you out and listen to whatever you’ve got to say.”
He’s still giving me the stink-eye as he steps out of his car. When we get to my truck, I open the door for him. “Thank you,” he mutters, shooting me a poisonous look, like he’s mad that I’m forcing him to be polite.