“So fucking what?” Chester’s voice rose. “You didn’t choose who or what you were born as. No one does. You were a goddamned child, Reid. Achild. What they did wasn’t okay. It’s never okay to abuse or manipulate someone the way they did you.”
More tears were falling now. What Chester was telling me was patching up a wound I’d thought would never heal. It wasn’t gone; far from it. But the thread of his words was tugging at the edges, working to close it.
He wasn’t done, either. “And you’re not unlovable. Your family are the ones incapable of love. That doesn’t make you incapable or unworthy of being loved. You deserve it, the same as anyone else does.”
How I hoped that was true. Hoped, wished, even prayed.
I wanted to be loved. Wanted it more than anything.
I used the sleeve of my hoody to swipe at my eyes. “Thanks, Chester. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome,” he said roughly, getting to his feet.His face was far away, and I wondered if he realised how much of what he’d just said also applied to himself. “You’re also one hell of a florist. Something you should remind yourself of by getting started on these orders.”
I hiccupped a laugh. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
I searched for the words I knew Chester needed to hear. The reminder that everything he’d told me, he should know about himself. Then I realised there was only one part of it that was important. One sentiment he needed to hold closer than all the others.
I paused in front of the door to the cooler. “You know, if I’m deserving of love, that means you are too. Right?”
Chester’s throat bobbed as he swallowed a couple of times. Then he gave me a smile. It was so full of quiet hope that it made me ache. “Yeah, Reid. I think you might be right.”
I nodded before disappearing into the cooler. I was definitely right. Chester deserved all the love in the world, and I suspected Finn would be the one to give him that. Just as he deserved.
I wished I could be as certain about my own future. My own heart.
I doubted my path to happiness would be so straightforward.
It was well past midnight, but my brain was far from ready to sleep.
Usually, I was able to run off some of my hyperactivity, but it was bucketing it down outside, which meant I was stuck indoors.
Reorganising my bathroom.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything else to do. The opposite, in fact. I had three client sketches I’d promised to have to Chester by the weekend. The deadline was drawing close, but it wasn’t imminent enough to have panic setting in.
Hence the organisation.
It wasn’t what I’d planned on doing. I’d gone into the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. But then I’d spotted the hot chocolate stand gathering dust and thought one of those might help me sleep. The orange flavoured powder wasn’t there though, which had led me to pulling everything out of one of the cupboards Mac had meticulously organised.
He was going to have my head when he next came over.
That was when I’d realised that the hinge on the cupboard door was loose. That had taken me to the small storage closet in the hall where I kept a miniscule collection of tools Cole had forced upon me when I’d moved in. I could have left it for him to fix, I knew that, but I could do it. I didn’t need to be bothering anyone else.
Unfortunately, on openingthatcupboard, I’d found a tiny patch of mould. Again, I should probably have messaged the landlord, but I knew I had some treatment spray in the bathroom.
But could I find it?
Could I fuck.
That was the series of events that had led to me sitting on my bathroom floor, surrounded by every cleaning implement and product I’d ever bought. I hummed as I scrolled through various organisation setups. Pinterest was so useful for this shit. Sadly, my efforts never quite matchedup. Mainly because I’d get bored or distracted halfway through.
I glanced around at the mess I’d inadvertently created and sighed. I’d started out with the best of intentions, but looking at the mess now, I was having regrets.
Fuck it. I’d just shove it all back infor now and then I’d order some storage containers off Amazon. The fancy ones I’d seen on TikTok. That’d make it easier both to find stuff and to store it.
With a plan in mind, I started shoving the bottles back in willy-nilly. I hadn’t found the mould spray, but it didn’t matter because my desire to fix it had vanished along with everything else I’d planned on doing. All I wanted to do now was veg on the sofa with my Switch and the TV on.
I was just loading up the top shelf when my hand brushed against something unexpected. Something long legged and fuzzy.
