“Why do you have a shirt this large?” I ask as I change.
“I keep a lot of clothes from exes,” he says with a shrug, and I stiffen, wrinkling my nose at the offending garment. “Aww, big guy, you jealous?”
I give him a dark look. “Let’s just say this is going into the trash when I get home.”
“You better not, or I’ll make you wear the crop top instead.” He pouts, that fucking perfect pink lip sticking out. “I like shirts that cover my—” Jeremy stops, and my eyes drop to his hip, where I know his scar is covered. “My ass,” he finishes.
“C’mon.” I grab his hand and lead him back into the living room. I glance out the window. It’s dark now, and the red and green from the traffic light at the end of the block casts an eerie glow.
“You’re not leaving?” he asks.
“Do you want me to leave?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
We start up a movie, and Jeremy lies down on the couch with his head on my thigh. I run my fingers through his silver hair. Toothless jumps up onto the couch and settles on my lap, and I stroke him slowly, taking comfort in his soft fur.
Maybe this can be our place, like Cannon Beach was. Maybe here, in Jeremy’s apartment, at least for now, we can be cozy and safe.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARCUS
Despite not planning to stay the night, I did. We fell asleep on his couch and then stumbled to his bedroom at two in the morning. I slept terribly, a nightmare shaking me awake around five.
Jeremy’s scent fills my senses, and I breathe him in, calming my racing heart. Jeremy’s smaller frame is nestled into mine, his hair tickling my chin. He’s so warm, like summer sand on the beach. As much as I want to lie here and fall back asleep, I know I need to get home to shower and change.
I move my leg, and Toothless’s heavy lump lets out a chirp of protest.
Carefully, I roll Jeremy over, slide my arm from under his body, and climb out of bed. Even though I don’t remember, I must’ve taken my pants off when I joined him in bed because they’re in a pile with my phone on his floor.
I shiver as I get dressed, the morning chill in Jeremy’s apartment as unpleasant as the hint of daylight filtering through the bedroom window. As I tiptoe down the short hallway, I hear a thunk and a questioning meow as T shadows me.
I bend down, scratching his chin. “Sorry, I need to go,” I whisper. “Take care of him for me.”
Then I grab my coat and slip out of the front door.
I glance around furtively as I step onto the sidewalk, my breath escaping my chapped lips in white puffs. The weekend parking hours on this street expired at five a.m., but thankfully, I don’t have a parking ticket. I climb into my truck, starting it up and rubbing my hands together to keep them warm while the cab heats up. A keen sense of guilt fills me. Leaving Jeremy like this feels icky, like a one-night stand, but at the same time, I need some space and time to think about everything, and I didn’t want to wake him.
I drive to the parking garage by the pub and grab my duffel bag from the back seat. Just as I exit onto the sidewalk, the clack of quick footsteps alerts me to a presence, and I freeze when a firm hand falls on the back of my neck, sending my pulse straight into my throat.
“Marcus,” my dad purrs in my ear. “I’m a bit put out that you didn’t show up for the Thanksgiving fundraiser.”
Relief is hot and quick.It’s not Ryan.
I scoff. “No, you’re not.” He’s never seemed to care if I was part of those social functions, even after we agreed that I would join him at Skynet.
His grip tightens, and he yanks me backward and slams my back against the brick wall. The move is sudden and so out of character that all I can do is stare. He’s never laid a hand on me. It hurts my feelings, which just makes me angry.
His eyes have an unhinged look about them, like his sanity dances on the edge of a knife. “I am, actually. You are now a part of this company, officially or not, and I expect you to attend big events.”
I almost say, “Since when,” but the words get stuck in my throat.
He lowers his voice menacingly. “Frankly, it’s embarrassing,and just the type of shit that Ryan will harp on if he feels like you’re not committed to your future with Skynet.”
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I say, shaking free of his grip. “I’m sorry the fundraiser wasn’t an option. I told you I was sick.” I glare at him. His dark hair is slicked back, and he looks like some sort of Bond villain in a very expensive three-piece suit. My gaze drops to his tie, silky and pitch black. He used to wear colorful ties before my stepmom died; ties we bought him for Father’s Day and Christmas. “This bullying bullshit is entirely unnecessary. You should leave that to your business partner.”
