The universe didn’t confirm or deny—it was too busy placing another bulk order of urinal cakes.
“Fuck it.” Damien pushed out of his chair and paced the office, too wired to sit still. He left his phone on his desk. Long hours at the office and not nearly enough sleep had to be warping his perception of reality—there was no other reason he’d be wearing a groove in the granite tile at almost eleven at night, fixated on all the ways he’d fucked up a text message. There was work to do, for Christ’s sake.Moneywas on the table.
But so was Damien’s phone, and in it, his conversation with Matthew.
He flashed it a wistful look, then gritted his teeth and turned away. Why the hell was he being so unreasonable? Fifteen minutes was nothing. There was a chance that Matthew’s daughter had woken up from a nightmare and crawled into bed with him, or that one of the girls had wet the bed and needed an emergency bath, or that a meteor had crashed into Aurora, destroying all life within a hundred mile radius while scattering heavy layers of dust into the air that would blot out the sun, dooming them all.
All of those situations were plausible.
Well, some more than others—most girls were fully potty trained before the age of four years old. The whole bed-wetting thing was abitof a stretch.
Damien groaned in a prolonged, whalelike way, then turned around and came to a stop at his desk. No new texts had arrived while he was pacing. Determined to put an end to his suffering, he unlocked his phone with the intention of sending a “Did I fuck up?” message when he noticed Matthew typing.
Christ, the things a tiny speech bubble could do to his heart.
Depleted, Damien sank into his chair and waited for the message to arrive, but the speech bubble at the bottom kept flickering in and out of existence. Whatever sadist had decided it’d be a good idea to show when another person was typing had to be jacking it hard and heavy right now. Damien needed a Xanax… and probably a nap.
At last, the message arrived.
I’m really sorry I left you hanging. Out of the blue I got really dizzy, and it ended up with me in the bathroom puking my brains out. Dad’s going to take me to the Dr tomorrow if I don’t get better. I just wanted you to know that I’m not ignoring you or weirded out or anything. I think it’s kind of hot…
The relief of knowing that Matthew didn’t think he was a perv was ripped to shreds by news of his health.Are you feeling better now?
A bit. I’m still a little dizzy, but I don’t feel like puking, which is nice. I’m worried that it might be a parasitic infection from Fiji. My dad isn’t the kind of guy who’d insist on taking me to the ER if he didn’t think it was serious.
Your dad wants to take you to the ER?The hairs all down the back of Damien’s neck bristled. Gwynn wasn’t a doctor, but he had a damn good head on his shoulders, and Damien knew he wasn’t the kind of guy who’d jump to conclusions. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You don’t have to pretend to make me feel better.
I’m okay. I promise.
Matthew’s reassurance did little to help stem Damien’s fears. What if he was sick? It killed him to watch from the sidelines knowing there was nothing he could do.Will you get some sleep for me anyway? I’m worried.
You don’t have to be, but I will. I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I’m doing, okay?
Okay. Goodnight, Matthew.
Goodnight, Daddy.
Damien stared at Matthew’s last text, but no matter how long his gaze lingered, the word didn’t change.
Daddy.
Matthew had called him Daddy.
The universe, disappointed to find that cherry-scented urinal cakes were on backorder, decided to give Damien something else—hope. It blossomed in his chest and made him smile even though he was worried sick.
One day Damien would be the one to tuck Matthew into bed when he wasn’t feeling well—one day he’d be the one who’d kiss Matthew’s forehead and smooth back his hair. There’d been boys in his past who’d wrapped Damien around their little fingers, but Matthew was the first boy to ever succeed in wrapping Damien around his heart.
Damien needed him.
Needed him there.
Needed him to warm his bed and share his life, to spoil rotten and to love endlessly.
There was only one way that would happen. Heart brimming with joy, Damien closed their text chat and opened the latest draft of the worst email of his life.
* * *
KnotMyProblem: Fuck me up the ass with my cactusy lover
