9. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Noah
I came home that night. I was still right fucking pissed off. But I came home.
Partly because I had nowhere else to go and not enough money to waste on a motel for the night.
Parly because I missed Stormy.
Mostly because I didn’t want to worry Christian.
Because he’d worry. He always worried about me. Up until today, I’d taken that for granted. Now, though, I needed to be more aware of it. Need to be careful of how that affected our relationship.
I heated the ribs and ate them while standing at the breakfast island.
I expected him to come down and admonish me at any moment about eating properly—sitting so I could digest the food.
Or some other stuff he was always carrying on about.
Stuff I often questioned. Like, did I really digest food better while sitting down?
And, while I was on that track—who had given him that advice?
If he told me a medical journal, then I’d give it due consideration.
If he said his mother, I’d likely toss the advice.
Mrs. Carter might come across as a nice person, but I didn’t trust her.
She and Mr. Carter never had Christian’s best interests at heart.
I knew way more than I should have about the whole Laura debacle.
I’d never share with my best friend how I knew what I knew—more that I needed to watch out for him.
I was world-weary.
He was na?ve and trusting.
Well, except Leroy. He hadn’t trusted my ex.
He’d been right.
To my shame.
Which might’ve been the other reason I’d come home.
I wasn’t certain I bought the whole assertion about me only dating Black men or his logic about my mother.
Or at least I didn’t agree with his underlying assertions of the reasons why we did what we did.
Had I dated only Black men? Yes. Did my mother stick to white men?
Yes. Did we both pick abysmally? Yes, to that as well.
So, should I be giving Soren a second look?
I suspected we would compatible—in bed, at least. And he loved his dog more than life itself.
That definitely counted more than looks or employment or anything else that someone might consider important.
That said…he was a damn attractive man. Just…
not for me. Even if Tibby wasn’t in my class, I probably wouldn’t go out with Soren.
Where does that leave me?
I scraped the bones from the delicious meal into the compost and then headed to bed.
In the morning, I had fewer answers and more questions .
Christian, ever the chipper morning person, sat at the kitchen table, Stormy loyally at his feet, while eating eggs, whole-wheat toast, strawberry jam, fresh orange juice, and coffee.
I headed to the pot, snagged my extra-large mug from the cupboard and poured a massive cup of java.
Finally, he gazed at me. “Can I make you some breakfast? I can make an omelet, some toast, and maybe fry up some bacon.”
“I’m good.”
He scowled. He never approved of me mainlining caffeine rather than having a nutritious breakfast.
“I can get my own food.” I cleared my throat. “But thank you for the offer.”
“At least a piece of toast with some peanut butter? Protein to carry you through until you eat a full meal?”
This was a debate we had every morning. And every morning I relented.
I snagged the white bread and put two slices in the toaster oven.
When I went to grab the peanut butter from the shelf, however, I discovered the jar was already on the table.
Because of course it was—he knew I’d give in and have the protein he carried on about.
As soon as the toast popped up, I plated it and headed to the kitchen table. I sat in my regular spot—right across from him.
I sipped my coffee.
Just do it. Rip off the bandage. Put everything on the table. Let the chips fall where they may.
I was certain I could come up with more trite expressions, but none were forthcoming. Finally, I slid my knife through the butter and applied the slab to my toast. Way more than I needed—which always pissed off Christian.
He’s worried about your cholesterol. At least someone is.
Yeah, I didn’t care, and neither had my mother .
She wasn’t a bad mother…just inattentive. She left me alone with my animals. She could’ve forbidden them, so that was something.
Next, I slathered the peanut butter. The crunchy kind—which was my favorite. And we always had some in the house, even though Christian preferred smooth.
Guilt gnawed at my gut. He did so damn much for me, and I didn’t show nearly enough appreciation. Still, he’d overstepped yesterday, and we needed to hash this out. “Why’d you do it?”
He looked up—his startled gaze meeting mine. He swallowed, looked away, then looked back. “Because I love you.”
I shook my head. “What?”
His green eyes didn’t flicker.
“What are you talking about?”
“I love you.” He ate a forkful of eggs.
I sighed. “I love you too, but you destroyed my relationship.” I eyed my toast. “Yes, Leroy was cheating. We always used protection—” I was pretty sure. “—and we were doing okay. I mean…” Except I didn’t condone cheating. That’s why I’d left his sorry ass—and Tennessee—behind.
“No, I mean I'm in love with you.” He took a bite of his toast.
A drop of strawberry jam dropped onto his plate.
If that had been me, it would’ve landed either on the table, or more likely, my shirt.
I repeated his words in my mind. He said it casually—as if he hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb on my world. Yet…maybe I’d misunderstood. “But you're straight.” Because that would change the equation…right?
“No. Not really.” He took a sip of juice—acting as if we always discussed his love for me .
“But you were going to marry Laura.” Again, with the logic. Because I had to find something to grasp onto. Something that would make this…less believable? More believable? I couldn’t be certain.
“Yes.” He used a spoon to scoop up his jam and ate it.
My mind whirled. “Oh, my fucking God. You just went along with marrying Laura to get your parents out of debt?”
“Yep. Pretty much.” He eyed his coffee. Whatever he saw had him rising and heading to the coffee pot.
“You need to stand up for yourself more! Jesus, Christian. Marrying her would’ve been a huge mistake. And for your parents? Those ungrateful sods? Who never gave you the time of day unless to figure out how to use you?”
“Why?”
I blinked. “Why what?”
“Why do I need to stand up for myself more?” He dumped the remnants of his doctored coffee down the sink, ran the water, then proceeded to pour a fresh cup.
“Why? Because you end up doing shit you don't want to do.
If you like guys, fine. I'm happy for you. But you have to say what you want. You have to do something to get it. You can't be a doormat.” God, is this why he came to California with me? Because he just goes along to get along? Because he doesn’t know how to stand up for himself? How the fuck had I never noticed that?
He poured a ton of milk into his coffee and started heaping the artificial sugar in as well. He really preferred lattés, but he couldn’t always get to the nearest café or coffee shop. “I don't like guys. I like you.”
“I'm sure you're confused about that.” On inspiration, I repeated the words he’d asked me a few weeks back. "If you could do anything, go anywhere, what would you do? "
He held my gaze. “I'd live with you and all your dogs that you surround yourself with to try to make yourself the family you never had.
In other words, I'd do exactly what I'm doing now.” He squinted.
“Except I think we need to get another dog or two. And maybe some rescue cats? I put my foot down at ferrets, though.”
“Uh, I’m going to visit Pam at Safe Haven Animal Rescue. She’s got a pair of mutts. They got dropped off last week. Best Pam figures, the purebred breeding mama got knocked up by someone other than her stud, and when the breeder realized, she offloaded the puppies as quickly as she could.”
“That’s horrible.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “How can people do such shitty things?”
“Well…” I considered. “We’ll take Stormy. If she gets along with the puppies, then we can probably bring them home in a day or two. They’ve had all their shots, and they’re fifteen weeks old, so they’re ready to go.”
“They’re just a little bit older than the lab puppies.”
“Yeah, just about.”
“Well, that’s perfect. You can demonstrate on a puppy, and I can take part in the class as a participant.”
“So you can spend time with Daphne?” Jealousy reared its ugly head until… “Never mind. Soren’s more your speed, right?”
He chuckled, but without true humor. “Noah, you’re my speed.”
“But what about when I'm ready to date again? Are you going to be okay with that?” Because although I wasn’t attracted to Soren, there might be other guys out there who would scratch an itch.
Or, if I was really lucky, be willing to build a life with me.
Of course, if someone moved in here then Christian might feel he had to leave.
I’d feel horrible .
He smiled. “No. But it doesn't matter. You need to understand—I've loved you for twenty years. I'll just keep on loving you in whatever capacity you want me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, Christian, that’s ridiculous. As your best friend, we need to sort you out.” Because in no way could he be in love in love with me.
He blinked. “ Sort me out ? What does that even mean?”
Inspiration hit. “I know! I'll find you a date. A guy. Now I know why all those girls bombed with you.” I couldn’t be certain this was why Laura eloped with someone else—but the relief I’d always felt at him not being chained to her magnified.
Maybe my subconscious had always known he was gay.
Or maybe I’d just known, in my heart, how detrimental—how soul-destroying—that marriage would’ve been.
“Uh.” He scratched his clean-shaven jaw. “So, you're not mad at me anymore?”
Own it. I took a deep breath. “I had a lot of time to think yesterday. Yes, you were wrong to do what you did. I mean, it was sort of illegal.”
“Nothing sort of about it. If a cop had come along, I would’ve been arrested.”
God save me . “Okay, well we have to agree you’re never going to do that again.
However—” I took a deep breath. “—creepoid was a creep.
I'm sorry I didn't listen. Now we're going to get you a date and get you over this crush you think you have on me.” Because that absolutely felt like the right thing to do to get us out of this mess.
He cocked his head. “Noah, it's not a crush.”
Of course he just had a crush on me. I wasn’t a person someone as perfect as him could ever love.
Which is maybe why you keep picking losers.
Whoa. Wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. “I'll find you a date.” Because this was something I could do. “Now, how about Soren?” I laughed. “And here I thought you and Daphne would make a cute couple.”
“She’s a lovely woman…but no. Definitely not. And besides, I don't know how to date. I mean, I've only ever dated Laura. And, truthfully, that was more just going to obligatory events together. Real dating? I’m clueless.”
Okay, confirms he’s really lucky Laura ran off with the other guy . “Fine—we'll double date then.”
Again, he blinked. Sort of owlishly. Super cutely. Like he needed glasses, even though he had perfect vision.
“Are you willing to try a date with Soren? He’d be someone very gentle to start with and, who knows? Maybe you’ll hit it off.”
“I don’t think this is a very good idea.”
“Trust me, it will be fine.” I picked up my toast. “After we see Pam about the mutts, then I’ll call Soren. Now, we need to find someone else.”
“Oh dear.”
Your expression doesn’t give me much hope, but trust me…I’ll make this work.
Because I somehow had to.