Page 36 of Cruz

You don’t invest in something unless you care. Investing itself, by definition, implies a future. One that Cruz fits into. Indefinitely.

It’s time that I make my peace with that. Even if he’s not guarding me and my home, he’s going to be in Liam’s life. He’s a good friend. Soon to be a fellow club brother. Whatever we’re doing, we need to do very carefully. I won’t hurt Liam. Not for anything, and certainly not to make myself happy. I couldn’t be happy if he was hurting. That’s the point.

After Liam is up and talking quietly with Cruz, badgering him about his knee, I crawl back into my bed. I purposely grasp the pillow that never gets used on the other side of the bed and fold myself around it so that I don’t turn over onto my back and start staring at the ceiling again. I know that there’s zero chance I’m going to be able to go back to sleep, not with my mind racing and my body in its perma-state of confusion, literally running hot and cold, but I close my eyes anyway. Listening to the muted voices from the living room is comforting. My son, who I love, who belongs in my life, who has brought me so much joy and purpose. And Cruz, who shouldn’t fit. Who should feel like a complete stranger. Who’s thrown my entire being into chaos and question. This isn’t a situation where I can just touch myself and tell myself to behave and call it a day. The allure of mastering my own body has gone stale. I know that giving myself an orgasm would hardly take the edge off. Whatever this is with Cruz, it’s far bigger than just our bodies, though mine has given me very little peace since I met him.

Chapter 14

Cruz

It was important to me that I establish a routine that worked with Sloane’s and Liam’s. After another week, I feel pretty good about what we’ve accomplished. Sloane gets up early. I’m down there with her in the café, sitting or pacing around the shop. I know it drives her insane, but she puts up with it before I drive Liam either to the clubhouse or to the garage. I don’t like being gone during that time, but when I’m driving, I make sure that Liam has his phone open to monitor the shop’s feed, and when I drive back, it’s comforting to know that Wizard is paying extra attention to the feeds for the fifteen odd minutes while I can’t.

When the café is open, so that I don’t drive Sloane insane, I spend a few hours working out upstairs in her living room. I put the camera feeds onto the TV via my phone, so that I have a massive screen in front of me while I stretch and put my body through the paces. There were plenty of times in the past where I didn’t have a gym full of equipment to work out. It’s not a big deal. You can do plenty with your own bodyweight, so I don’t feel like anything has gone to pot since I haven’t been at the clubhouse regularly.

Once I’m done with my hours of working out, I generally do bother the hell out of Sloane, acting like a big statue in the corner of the café, or ghosting around the back like an annoying shadow that she can’t shake. I help where I can, or at least what she lets me do. Mostly, that’s cleaning and dishes.

Since the café was closed yesterday, it meant that I could do some of the deep cleaning for Sloane that she worries about not having enough time to get done. She and Liam made fudge and several different kinds of cookies together. It was good watching them, their heads bent, stirring and mixing, measuring and whisking. They finished each other’s sentences. They knew where the other was going to be and what the other needed without much verbal communication.

When Liam said that he’d worked at the café for years, I should have realized that he meant he did the baking too.

I’ve spent all of today fighting with myself.

That’s not true. I’ve spent every single day fighting with myself.

I know Sloane feels the same, but we haven’t done anything about it. We’re locked in a state of limbo, scared to move forward, unable to step back, tortured in the present.

The day literally started off that way, when I still had to hobble to make it down into the truck to take Liam to the garage. I tried not to let my discomfort show, and I wasn’t going to sit around all day and put my feet up. I spent extra time with my stretching, going through all my old physiotherapy exercises. My damn knee is still throbbing like someone’s constantly at it with a chainsaw. It refuses to give up and let me have some peace. Kind of like my damn brain and heart. I’ve steadfastly tried to ignore all of it and just get on with keeping guard and getting in Sloane’s way without truly getting in her way.

I want to claw back some of my regular, signature calm composure, but I feel completely turned inside out. Not that I haven’t since the day I met Sloane. I simply haven’t been able to fix it. With her, I want to do all the things I don’t normally do with anyone. Talking, for example. Liam’s able to draw words out of me, but with Sloane, they come so easy all on their own.

Like now.

She just switched the sign off and locked the door. It’s six, and I know that she’ll shut things down in here and turn off the lights before she goes upstairs to make dinner. Liam will be back in a bit, and when we’re done eating, Sloane will come down here and take care of the cleaning she didn’t get to before dinner.

I’ll help.

That’s a part of our routine.

It’s not a part of that routine to step into her space as she rounds the counter wearing a very loud sweater with cats all over it. When she put it on this morning, it reminded me of the comment she made ages ago about rethinking getting a cat. I sent her a few links today, but I know she hasn’t had time to check her phone.

I’m standing behind the counter with my arms crossed, ignoring the fiery asshole that my knee has become. Sloane studies me for a moment. I can tell she doesn’t know if she should laugh or scowl. That seems to be her regular reaction when it comes to me. I consider myself very lucky that her smiles have far outweighed anything else.

“Will you teach me how to make a good coffee?”

Her eyes flick to the ceiling. “Now?”

“I know you’re anxious to get upstairs and get dinner started, but I also know that you’re making spaghetti and if you start it now, it’ll be ready too early, and Liam will complain about soggy noodles.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed that you know this or slightly creeped out.”

And I don’t know if anyone should ask for spaghetti and meatballs for dinner as often as Liam does. “I’ve watched you.” I step closer to the great big silver beast of a coffee machine. “I think I know how to do it. Will you let me try? You could just correct me if I’m wrong.”

“If you’re craving coffee that badly, you should have said something.” Her eyes fall to the leg I’m subtly trying to keep my weight off. “How’s your knee? You do way too much standing. You could also say something about that and take a break.”

“It’s good to walk around. Staying off it doesn’t help. And I take plenty of breaks.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. Any of it.” She lets out the longest sigh. She’s tired. She’s worked all day. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. Inexplicably. I can’t explain why, but I want to make that coffee. “Okay. If you have to.”

“I don’t have to, but I’d like to.”