Chapter Fourteen
Gannett throws up a "hold on" finger to me as he walks in the door. He rolls his eyes, and points to his phone, then mimes a yapping motion. He sighs. “You done?” he finally asks whoever’s on the other line. “Good, because I’d like to take a turn speaking here, if that’s okay with you.
First of all, I don’t know when my apartment will be done.
I realize it’s February, but I don’t work on their timeline.
Secondly, you know goddamn good and well I want to see my girls, so don’t pull that bullshit on me that I’m blowing them off. ”
He waits, wobbling his head from side-to-side in annoyance while, I’m assuming, Sarah loudly chastises him.
“I have picked them up from school and spent nearly every fucking day with them at your house for the past two weeks to make up for not having them on my weekends, Sarah. I’m losing money every day I’m having to cut short.
Don’t take that to mean that money’s more important than them either.
That’s not what I’m saying. I have Marcus and Caleb to think of too. ”
She yells at him some more. “Well, what do you want me to do?! I understand that you and Steve want to go to Cape Cod for the weekend! Do you honestly think I sabotaged my own apartment, just so you’d have to keep the girls every weekend, just so I could thwart whatever romantic getaway you two have planned?
! I don’t give a fuck about your trip, and I’d never use Tati and Terra as pawns like that. ”
“They can come here,” I suggest, breaking into their conversation.
“Hang on, Sarah.” He mutes his phone. “What?” he asks me.
“I said they can stay here.” For the past month Gannett’s been back, he has been sleeping in my bed anyway, so that leaves an unused room.
Also, per his report, I haven’t had a single night terror.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of believing it’s because I sleep better when he’s in bed with me, but it definitely is pretty fuckin’ suspicious.
“You sure?” he asks. “I haven’t asked if it was okay if they stayed here, because I know how you feel about having your space fucked with, and trust me, those two are the highest form of fuckerers to ever fuck a place up.
Terra’s graffiti skills are only rivalled by her cousin’s, and Tati?
Well, there isn’t a piece of furniture at Sarah’s place that doesn’t have nail polish spilled on it. ”
“It’s fine, Gannett. You think Taryn was an angel when he was their age?” I scoff.
He unmutes his phone and gets back on the line with Sarah. “Have fun in Cape Cod this weekend. The girls are coming here.”
She says something else to him, and his jaw ticks.
“Don’t…” he says, his tone colder than I’ve ever heard from him before.
A frustrated growl rumbles out of him before he steps back outside, shutting the door behind him.
He’s not quiet at all, however, when I hear him snarl at her.
“You don’t fucking know him like I do, Sarah!
I wouldn’t let the girls stay here if I thought they were in any danger whatsoever. ”
Oh. They’re talking about me. She apparently thinks I’m a threat to their safety. Fucking fantastic.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard about him!” he goes on, his yelling only slightly muffled by the door. “Like I said, I trust him implicitly. Did I give you shit when you moved Steve right in? No, I trusted your fucking judgment. The least you could do is reciprocate that.”
My eyebrows lift. Wow, reciprocate is a big word for him—and he used it in the correct context.
Last week, he used the word "copulate" instead of "cooperate" when he was yammering on to me about something. I laughed, but didn’t correct him, because I’m pretty positive he’ll do it again sometime, and I’m an asshole like that.
Not the way his ex-wife apparently thinks I am.
“Oh, well shit. Was that so hard? Thank you very much for finally copulating with me!” he huffs.
“What’s so funny?” he asks after a beat. “Wait, what? Copulating… like when two or more people work together towards the same goal.”
More silence on his end, and then finally he growls, “Yeah, well, you and Steve have fun playing grammar police together over there. I’ll pick the girls up from school tomorrow, and we’ll see you Sunday night.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grumbles coming back in the apartment. “You wanna go to the gym and punch each other for a little bit before you have to go to work? I’m about to lose my shit with that woman.”
I nod. “She didn’t want the girls coming here because she’s afraid of me, I take it?”
He lifts a brow at me, palming the back of his neck. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“You were yelling…”
He sighs, not denying my accusation.
“Thank you for sticking up for me,” I tell him. “I know what kind of person everyone thinks I am, Gannett. I’m an asshole. Pair that with Marlin’s reputation, and I’m… a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Gordy,” he says, stepping closer to me. “I meant what I told her. I trust you, implicitly. You finally opening up to me showed me that you trust me too.” Then, he smirks at me. “Hell, it’s almost like we’re friends now or something.”
Or something. Yeah, we’re something alright.
Over the past month, we’ve fallen into a rhythm of work, going to the gym when we both have the time, and relaxing on the couch together while he catches me up on movies I never watched as a child, since I was never allowed to watch television back then.
Though it’s debatable how much I’ve actually watched, since it usually turns into us fuckin’ reminiscing about stupid shit that we’ve encountered throughout the day.
I roll my eyes playfully, but then tease back, “I wouldn’t go that far. I still plan on flattening your ass on the mat today.”
He throws his head over his shoulder, looking down at something. “Pretty sure it’s already flat. Might have Micah show me how to use that machine that helps me tone my glutes so I can get a muscular peach like yours.”
I blink at him.
He sighs. “No, I haven’t been checking it out on purpose, but you know… you can’t walk by a bakery and not admire the cake when it’s right there in the window. It’s right there.”
“It is not right there! When have I ever waved my ass in your face?!”
“How honest would you like me to be right now?” he asks.
“Oh, I don’t know, somewhere around one-hundred percent?” I reply sarcastically.
“I have fallen asleep admiring it a time or two, and had dreams about it… in my face.”
I blink at him again, and watch as a shade known only to me as mortification red creeps up his neck.
He blows a raspberry, and spins on his heels. “Great. I’m just gonna go toss myself off the balcony now. Tell Gulligan and the girls I love them and to think of me when they look out over the ocean.”
“You’re being a touch dramatic, don’t you think, Wee-Waters?”
He whips back around, glaring at me. Tossing his hands up in the air, he huffs, “I just admitted to dreaming about my face buried between your asscheeks, and all you can do is gawk at me!”
“Well, what is the appropriate response to that?!”
“I don’t know!” he balks. “Hell, we’ve been sleeping together for a fuckin’ month now! A similar admission maybe?!”
“Fine! You want a similar admission? Here. I have done nothing but jerk off in the shower every fucking morning for the past damn month thinking about you on your knees with my cock down your throat!”
He rears back, mouth agape, in total shock.
“There! Now who’s gawking at who?”
“Wait, hold up. Let’s halt this pissing match for a sec, because you’ve pictured me doing what?”
“You heard me. On your knees, my hands fisting your hair, my dick filling that smartass mouth of yours, you choking on it, and then begging me for more,” I hiss. My cock starts to swell just picturing it again.
“Ohhh, fuuuuuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Screw the gym, man. We’re going to the shower…”
“No,” I snap, shaking my head.
“What? Why the hell not?!” He gestures down to his crotch. “Not sure if you can tell with these jeans on, but Blackbeard is totally fucking on board with skipping the gym for one day.”
Prickles start to appear in the periphery of my vision, my pulse suddenly skyrocketing.
I hadn’t anticipated he’d actually want to go make my wayward fantasies a reality.
Hell, I thought he’d given up on trying to figure out if he was attracted to men, since he hadn’t brought it up again since the seagull accompanied porn-screening debacle—that was nearly two months ago at this point.
“You’re panicking,” he notes, suddenly dropping all his jocularity. “Come sit.” He tugs me over to the sofa and forces me to sit. “What’s going on? Why are you panicking? Fuck, I took it too far, didn’t I? I mean, I’m down for that, if you want to try, but…” he trails off.
I look down at my lap, my dick still stiffening, despite the cloying sensation around my ribs.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Gannett,” I sigh. “It’s that I can’t.”
His forehead creases with lines of confusion. “Are you seriously going to try to pull the I have ED card on me right now, when I can see that bulge in your pants, clear as day? If it’s me, just say it…”
As panic starts to consume me, wrapping itself around my insides like thick, insidious smoke, that all too familiar feeling of needing to lash out kicks in. Since Marlin, it’s never been fight or flight with me. Always fight.
“It’s not y-you,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “I can’t, and you need to get the fuck away from me.”
But, of course, he doesn’t. He studies me for a bit, dejection mixed with that stupid pitying look back mark his expression again. “There’s something else you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”