“But he…” I threw a glance in the direction of the front door. Yeah. Like he was gonna walk through it again anytime soon. “He never said—”
“Oh, he did, Blackman. My guess is he did say something, or at least tried to, but you were too no, no, leave me alone, I don’t do relationships to even listen.”
“How the hell do you know all this? Did he—”
“I told you, Kit. He said nothing. Only the bare minimum. Steven said he found it uncomfortable living in the same house as you, so he was moving out, extended his apologies for letting his dick do his thinking for him, and…that’s that.”
“What, that’s it? He’s just gone?”
“Aren’t you happy?” Gary cocked his head and for the first time in all the years we’d been friends, he sneered at me. “You’ve been pushing him away for weeks now anyway. What does it matter?”
I would have punched him if I hadn’t walked out, but part of me wanted to cry and there was no way I’d let him see that. No fucking way. I couldn’t go out—I’d left my bag in the living room and while I had my keys in my jacket pocket, I was too tied to my mobile phone to leave home without it.
Fine, then. Upstairs.
I reached the top of the stairwell out of breath, not through physical exhaustion but desperation. Steven’s absence pulled the breath out of my lungs, nearly crushed them. It sure felt like something in my chest was breaking.
I’d always been a bottom, always liked to be fucked, always liked to be hurt, which was why I couldn’t pass Steven’s room without pushing the door open.
The first breath I hauled was like inhaling shards of glass. I hadn’t realised it was possible to hurt that much without being… Christ, it was like ten of the worst migraines happening all at once dead centre behind my ribcage. Empty bookcase, nothing on the walls, a stripped bed, no clutter that spelled S-T-E-V-E-N and that made him all the more conspicuous. Not a thing left.
I woke myself up with the next breath—the gasp juddered in the back of my throat, almost choking me and all I could think about was returning to my own room and collapsing onto my bed.
Something crinkled underneath my head when I shifted my weight—a piece of paper that made the painful breaths flare into hope. Twisting round, I groped for it, a man who’d forgotten how to swim grasping at a lifebelt.
At least you let me be the one to run away this time.
Oh, he just had to say it. He had to remind me of that. He couldn’t have insulted me more if he’d called me every name under the sun.
It was no lifebelt after all, so I let myself drown.
Chapter Thirteen
“I have no fucking idea why I’m doing this.”
“Because you’re sick of being a miserable git,” Gary pointed out. Incorrectly.
Gemma, meanwhile, gave a heavy sigh. At the sound, I looked over to where she stood, leaning against the living room wall with her arms crossed, expecting to see a scowl or a glare in her eyes, disapproval furrowing her brow.
Not so. There was something else in her expression, which I didn’t care to examine, or that funny unsettled feeling in my stomach would get even more unsettled. And far less
‘funny’.
“I almost wish Bill would phone with some work emergency.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Gary said.
“Yes. He does,” Gemma put in, not moving. “That’s the kind of person he is.”
“Avoiding the truth, burying himself in work, making himself even more of a hermit?”
“No, I meant…” Gemma’s gentle tone surprised me. I’d expected her to have a go, try to talk me out of it, but the frown of concern wrinkling her brow wasn’t a scowl. The twist to her lips was a watery smile, not a sneer. “Blocking out the world by immersing himself in something productive until he feels better.”
Well that was unexpected. But even so… “Look, can you two stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?”
“Half the time you’re not,” Gary muttered. “It’s like you’re on a different planet.”
“I am not. And anyway, what did you mean by avoiding the truth?”
“You’ve been a twat, that’s what—”
“Gary.” The censorious tone, usually reserved for my name, now formed Gemma’s boyfriend’s name, not mine. Truly, a night for surprises.
The most surprising thing was I’d agreed to go out with those two at all. A house party across town and I’d only managed to stop them—strictly speaking Gemma—bugging me by promising to stay for one drink only. Besides, if it was one of their friends throwing the party, I’d most likely not know them and it wouldn’t be right to gatecrash for longer than it took to grab a beer, make a full circuit of the house, and call for a cab home on my mobile.
I didn’t know their friends and I hardly saw any of my own these days. Maybe I should make more of an effort for them, I thought, surprised by my own willingness to branch out. This isn’t like me at all. Considering developing a social life instead of staying home, licking my wounds.
Gemma had been the one to look me in the eye and say I just couldn’t do that much longer. I needed to go out, get some fresh air, have fun.
“But I can’t…” I’d begun, ending weakly, shifting my weight from one foot to
