I pull in a breath through my nose, and expel it from my mouth. “Gannett, please. I need you to get the fuck out.”
“But—”
“For your safety, stop being a stubborn dick,” I grit out. “Get.Out.”
He starts to get up, and his lips part. “I’m sorr—”
“Now!” I bellow, pointing at my door.
He scurries out, looking like a scolded pup with his tail between his legs. Once the door clicks shut behind him, I flop back on my bed and dig my thumbs into my temples, trying to alleviate the pressure building in my chest by redistributing the pain elsewhere. Fucking hell, I knew that letting Gannett stay here would result in my routines—my whole fuckingeverything—being upended.
Why do I feel like a ship, lost out on the ocean, being battered, cracked, and splintered until my eventual capsize?
From the minute a Waters came into my life, it’s been nothing but nonstop trouble. First, all the shit with Evan. Then, all that fuckery between Evan’s son, Colton, and Taryn. Granted, it was Taryn who instigated it, being a little asshole to Colton’s boyfriend, but it stirred up drama I didn’t need nonetheless. Earlier tonight? I had Wagner threatening me until he clued in on my jealousy. Now? I’ve got Gannett feeling sorry for me.
I don’tneedhim weaseling his way into my life, nor do I want his apathy. What’s done is done, and the sooner his apartment is renovated, the better. That way, I can go on living my miserable fucking life all alone. As it should be.
I’m nothing but a barren island of a man. Sail too close, you’ll find nothing but rocky shore.
Chapter Nine
I’m assuming Gordy fell asleep a while ago, so it’s probably safe for me to start packing up my shit before I head down to the marina to move into my houseboat. I will say, getting thrown out at the week mark is seven days later than I originally bet on. Ya know, since I never saw the invite coming at all…
The good thing is, I hadn’t really ever unpacked much, so all I’ve got to toss in my truck is the few pairs of new clothes I bought. I think I’ll leave the Charlie Brown tree here for him. Out of anyone, he needs the Christmas cheer. Not that I’m much better, but that’s besides the point.
The point is, quite frankly, that I feel like a complete dingus, and I deserve to be shit-canned. I mean, what the hell was I even thinking, bringing up the topic of what I’d seen on his TV earlier? He’s right, it was a huge invasion of his privacy, even if it was unintentional. I could have left well enough alone, and not even mentioned it. But noooo, big ol' dumbass me just had to know. Just had to know if that’s why I’d feltguilty that Gordy saw Micah and I kiss, because I’d finally pulled my head out of my ass and admitted to myself that I fucking feelsomethingfor the fucked-up, pissed-off-at-me guy in the next room over.
The guy who always let me brag about my girls when I was at his bar. Hell, the one whoaskedabout their Christmas play, like he took an interest in them. The man who has listened to me wax poetic about my abysmal existence, time and time again. The one Ichooseto go to when I know I need a kick in the pants. That asshole, who I’ve been giddily anticipating every chance encounter with over the past week here, has wormed his way into every freakin’ facet of my life!
And fuck,yes, I have been flirting with Gordy. I see that now. God, how have I been this goddamn stupid?
So, did I want to know if there was a slim chance he might possibly, just maybe, like guys too? Hell fuckin’ yeah! Did I go about it in the worst possible way and push him too far?Alsohell fuckin’ yeah.
I need to get away, and get him out of my head. So maybe things didn’t pan out with Micah tonight, but that doesn’t mean it’s becauseGordy’sin the forefront of my thoughts instead. I haven’t responded to Micah yet, so maybe there’s still a chance to try again—this time, blocking Gordy out.
Starting right now.
I zip up my bag and straighten up the bed, making it look just like I’d never been here. I look around, sighing when I realize I’m living like a shell of a man. Nothing but a few belongings to my name, and ready to pack up and leave on a moment’s notice. Gah, it’s going to be so fuckin’ cold out on my boat, but Christmas is in a couple days, so maybe there’ll be some epic deals on space heaters… because who doesn’t have a heater on Santa’s wish list, right?
A loud crash from Gordy’s room snaps me out of my downward spiral. Inching closer to the wall, I press my ear up against it.
“No! Get your fucking handsoffme!” he yells, thrashing so hard that his bed slams hard against the wall, causing me to jolt backwards.
Shit, he’s having another night terror. He’s had a couple over this past week and a half now, but I can’t just put in earbuds and drown him out though. At the expense of the sparse few hours I should spend sleeping, I lay awake, on the other side of the wall, agonizing over the want to go in there and break him out of his misery. He told me not to, however, so—even though it’s been a hell of a test of restraint—I haven’t.
Tonight, on the other hand, it sounds worse than the others. It’s just as bad as that first one I’d stepped in on…
“I said stop!” he bellows again. “Please, just… stop,” he adds, this time sounding more like a muffled whimper.
I can’t help but feel terrible, knowing that what I did tonight probably triggered this one too. I know he said to just let him ride these out, but damn—he’s actually crying now. He’s never cried. The noises coming through these paper-thin walls—the visceralsobbing—is causing me to feel even more anguished.
“Please! No more! I-I promise I’ll b-behave.”
I can’t take it anymore. Without giving it another thought, I drop my bag and leave the guest bedroom, ready to cross over to his bedroom and break rule number one again. Since that first night, he’s only let me break it one other time, but just to spar at the gym. But I can’t just walk away either. There’s no way, with all his thrashing, he isn’t hurting himself…
Sure enough, when I barge in, he’s all tangled in his sheets—completely naked, covered in sweat, writhing around, and hitting himself. I’m careful to try not to wake him as I slip onto the side of his mattress, dodging his flailing arms, until I can get them pinned down. Scooting up behind him, I drape one of my legs over top of his to help stillhim. It takes all my strength, with my body pressed firmly to his, but I manage to keep him restrained.
He burrows his face into his pillow. “J-just stop hurting me,” he sobs.
