Page 34 of Reluctantly You

“Yeah, they’ve never bothered me before. They must hateyou.”

“Well, you did almost trample one. They don’t like being bothered.”

He rolls his eyes and swipes a hand across his forehead. “I still think it’s you.”

Our eyes meet, and I see something sparkle in those depths before it’s snuffed out and he turns away from me.

“Right. Should get home. It’s getting dark.”

“Scared to be out in the park late at night?” I ask, and he grumbles next to me.

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t worry,” I say as we begin the trek back to his house. “I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need fucking protection. Don’t need you here. Period.”

But he still walks next to me all the way back to his place and lets me inside. He moves to the freezer and pulls out a container and then two bowls from the cabinet.

“Ice cream?” he asks, and I nod, settling down on the couch. He brings me a large scoop of vanilla with a spoon and sits down beside me. Little Shit just eyes us forlornly before Mitchell dips his finger into the ice cream and holds it out to the cat, watching as its rough little tongue laps at it.

“You don’t need to stay,” he tells me again, only this time his voice holds no anger, only resignation.

“I’m staying tonight,” I say, firm in this decision. “I will sleep on the couch.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns his gaze to the TV and flicks it on. He puts on something I’d expect him to watch, an action film of some sort, but I just keep my mouth shut and let myself relax for a moment. I’m sure tomorrow Mitchell and I will be at odds once more, but right now, this is peaceful.

And that’s good enough for me.

Chapter Six

Mitch

Ican hear him snoring softly in the other room, his presence overwhelming, stifling. I hate that he’s here because he thinks that I’m going to off myself, but I can’t help the twinge in my chest that someone cares enough about me to stay. To make sure I’m okay.

Not even my brothers did that.

They’d never do that.

That’s not how we operate, which is why I didn’t reach out when I knew I was at an all-time low. That’s not something we express or discuss. We’re men, we just deal with it, stuff it down and repress. And to be honest, I don’t know if they even like me enough to come.

In a matter of weeks, I’ve been reduced to nothing, a rock bottom of sorts.

I’ve never been this depressed before.

I’ve suffered from lows, the abject disgust with my thoughts, my feelings, my yearnings. I know it’s not at all what my parents would want, not my mom and especially not my dad.

But he’s not my dad anymore. What do I care what he thinks?

I rub at my eyes, punch my pillow and turn to my side.

I shouldn’t care. He’s not even related to me and he abandoned me after all this time. He should be dead to me. And yet still, I yearn. I yearn for the approval I’ve never gotten, for someone to love me just as I am, anger and all.

Damnit. I can’t fucking sleep.

Little Shit doesn’t have that problem though. It’s snoozing on my pillow, purring loudly and drooling.

I should probably give it a nicer name, but honestly, I can’t be bothered. I don’t really give a shit. It’s fitting.

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