Keep telling yourself lies, maybe one day you’ll believe them, my mother muttered.
Fine, better for him.
Her silence should have made me feel better, but I swear I could feel she didn’t believe me.
DOM
Gonna come over tonight?
I stared at the text and let out another sigh, glad I’d turned all read receipts off. I hadn’t heard from Miley in a couple of weeks, which meant the guy she’d been soooooo into that she couldn’t keep ‘scewing around’ with me was apparently out of the picture. So either I was a rebound after he ditched her, or she was just alone and wanted to get laid.
Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have bothered to open the text; I would’ve been in my truck, headed to her place. Maybe I would have spent the night, or maybe I would have fucked her stupid, and left after she fell asleep. She would have bitched the next day for me leaving, but within a week, she’d be texting me to come over again.
It wasn’t like she, or any other woman I’d slept with, didn’t know the score. In my thirty-three years, I hadn’t found a woman who compelled me to settle down. Of course, I’d learned quickly when I was younger not to mention that. Some took it as a challenge. At least if they knew I wasn’t the ‘take home to Mom’ type, and was good for warming their bed and making them come, that was good enough for me.
Except...
Sighing, I picked up my phone and texted her back.
Sorry, can’t. Loads of training tomorrow, bright and early.
I thought about adding ‘maybe another time,’ but thought better of it. The last thing I needed was for her to hold onto the hope that I might decide next week or in a few days to swing by her place. Of course, nothing was stopping her from thinking that anyway, but at least I couldn’t be blamed for putting the thought in her head.
Miley was fun, she was hell on wheels and a demon in the sheets, but lately, even the promise of great sex wasn’t enough to entice me. For the first time since I discovered my inner man whore, I was content to sit on my couch and waste away for the rest of the night.
Well, notmycouch. Arlo was one of my stranger siblings, an impressive feat in the weird as fuck group I called family, but he was accommodating. I didn’t have a place of my own when I was in town between bouts, so I used to stay at my family’s hotel. We all had our own rooms there when we were growing up; they were in a different wing of the hotel, accessible only to family. It was nice. I mean, it had been weird as a kid growing up in a hotel, especially after my parents had died, but it had been nice too. You got to meet people, learn things, and when your parents were busy running a business, you got away with a lot.
I had stayed at the hotel when I was back in Cresson Point until Arlo bought his own place and casually mentioned I could have the guest room whenever I was in town. It had been weird at first, mostly being in a normal house, but Arlo and I had always gotten along. Arlo had a hard time not getting along with anyone. The guy had a way of findingsomethingabout people that made them redeemable or at least tolerable in his eyes, even if they were the rudest son of a bitch he’d ever met who deserved a fist to the jaw rather than his kindness.
Like I said...he’s weird.
He kept a nice house, though. There was enough room for us to live together whenever I was in town without tripping over one another. It didn’t hurt that he was out a lot for work, and I didn’t linger around the house either, so we had plenty of time to ourselves.
Like tonight, I was alone because Arlo, of all people, was out on a date. Which would have been the perfect opportunity for me to bemoan thathewas having a good time while I was turning into a mold colony on his couch. Except...it had been years, as far as I knew, since Arlo had even considered having a date. Of course, he had to be on a date with the governor’s son, but in our family, at least so far, that wasn’t the weirdest person someone had ever dated.
So, I wasn’t going to feel bad about being home alone, and not just because Arlo deserved to go on a date, for God’s sake. Hell, I hoped the guy got laid. It clearly wasn’t a priority for him since I’m sure I would have noticed someone lingering, waiting to get laid by him. At least...I was pretty sure. Arlo wasn’t exactly the sharing type, but he and I shared a lot more than the rest of our siblings did. Not because our siblings were big-mouthed or assholes, but just...I don’t know, we were both outsiders brought into the family, and there was a bond.
“Oof,” I grunted as a solid shadow landed on my stomach with all the grace of...well, a cat who was just a throw pillow that had gained sentience after being stuffed with a bowling ball. “Rags, we’ve talked about this. Knocking me out isn’t going to get you petted any faster.”
With a soft noise that spoke of his smugness, he wiggled to get comfortable. Resigned to my fate and glad I had a thick blanket over me, I gave another weary sigh and waited for him to be done. I even tried not to wince when his claws found their way through the blanket as he kneaded because, apparently, I neededto bleed before he could settle. The furry bastard was purring up a storm by the time he settled down.
“Happy?” I asked, and in the soft glow of my phone, I could see him squint at me. “Alright, I’m glad you’re happy. I wouldn’t want to make you unhappy, no, sir.”
That was precisely what he expected as he purred, his ears pointed forward and the tip of his tail flicking ever so slightly where it sat curled against my side. Arlo had found him and his brother, Muffin, in rough shape, made sure they were brought back to good health, and probably thought he would pass them off to someone else.
Idiot. You didn’t simply give away cats you found ‘randomly’ on the streets; everyone knew that. No, that was when the universe decided you needed a pet, or two in this case. Milo, the little tweaker, had named them, making everyone roll their eyes, except Arlo. He had stared at the two kittens, wounds cleaned and treated, but still looking ragged and worn down, and had proclaimed them good names, much to Milo’s delight.
“How’s a good nap sound?” I asked Rags who would have been content to lie on my bleeding midsection until the sun stopped rising. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question, huh? Almost bedtime, and I never go to bed early.”
I also never passed up an opportunity to get laid, but here we were. I was officially spending the night with a cat and…ah, more weight was added, this time by my feet. I peered down to find the other bowling ball wrapped in a fur suit. “Hello, Muffin. I guess I really am stuck here for the night, aren’t I?”
I’d never had cats, so I didn’t know what they were like as pets. My first mom had been fond of the neighborhood cats, but she’d never brought any inside because my dad had been allergic. Then, when Matilda and Marcus adopted me...well, a hotel wasn’t the place to raise a pet. Either that or Matilda andMarcus decided they had enough dependents running around demanding their attention as it was.
I didn’t blame them.
Cats were kind of nice, though, I had to admit as I set my phone down and let their synchronized purring lull me into a state of comfort that generally wouldn’t come for at least another couple of hours. I didn’t usually get the chance to sleep with them, not when Arlo was home anyway. They liked me just fine and loved being petted, but they knew who had saved them from the streets and practically hand-raised them. I was a pleasant pastime for them, but he was the sun and moon of their world for sure.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise when my eyelids drooped, and my desire to flip through my phone plummeted. The blanket was warm, the cats were warmer, the house was cool, and the combination was too much. The purring was just overkill, but I let the steady rhythm of happy cats take over my senses and pull me into a comfortable sleep.
