Page 10 of Living Hell

I stepped back and smiled up at him. It was good to see him, even if it was under unusual circumstances. When I allow myself to remember him, all I see is that tall, skinny, hyper teenager. But before me is a healthy man, excited to start living his dream.

I was the same way, but my dreams were on the other side of the country.

“Why my old home?”

I couldn’t help but notice his dream home was my last residence in this town. When I first began to make money from my Vidtube channel, I bought this house so my mother never had to worry about putting a roof over our heads again.

But, a year later, it was back on the market as I put it up for sale to move West. Tyler had said he could see growing old in this house. I stupidly believed he meant with me, but now I realized it was the house he had eyes for, not his girlfriend.

I never pegged Tyler as being so shallow as to use someone for a material object like property. But right around the time I bought the house was when he made the move to be more than friends.

“It was for sale and in my price range.” He shrugged, obviously pretending that the house meant nothing to him.

“If that’s true then you wouldn’t mind me buying you out. Whatever you paid for the house I’ll give to you, and you can find another place.”

Twisting my lips, I waited for the truth to bubble to the surface. If this place meant nothing to him, then he’d be happy to take the money and move along.

“No.” His brow crinkled as he shook his head. “I’ve waited too long for this moment. This is my home, Iona.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I knew Babette would never mess up an address to a property she owned. Besides, she had the key to this home, which she handed to me before I headed off to LAX last night. I got here this morning and was happy that Babette’s interior designer, Chaze, had the house furnished and ready.

“I beg to differ, Toonces.”

His jaw tightened, and I knew I got to him. There was something satisfying in messing with the guy who screwed me over. I knew, deep in my heart, it wasn’t nice, but fuck it. The man was an asshole at his core. It took me moving across the country to figure that out.

“I am not Toonces the Driving Cat. It was one fender bender that happened twelve years ago. Besides, from what I read, you really aren’t one to make fun of people who have car accidents.”

My heart hit the floor so hard I couldn’t speak. His eyes softened and he reached for me, but I yanked my arm back.

“I’m sorry, Iona. I didn’t mean that.”

I put my hand up to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t.” I glared at him. “How stupid of me to forget what a cold-hearted bastard you could be.”

I felt guilty after I called him Toonces, but not anymore. Marching out of the kitchen and into the living room, I picked up my phone from the coffee table. Within seconds I had Babette on the other end.

“How’s the house? No broken pipes or holes in the roof?” she said and then let out a moan.

I had caught her during her daily massage session. She acquired hot model-esque male masseuses like most people collected art work. Only, she didn’t keep them on display. Babette made sure they earned their price.

There were rumors that one of the massage experts knocked her up ten years ago, but I had learned that rumors were only started to hurt people.

“Nothing is broken . . . yet.” I glared at Tyler as he walked into the room. “But there’s a problem and he’s six foot one.” Tyler held up two fingers. I rolled my eyes and made the amendment. “I mean, six foot two and has verbal diarrhea. And not the funny kind, either.”

“I don’t understand. Is this a masseuse you’re selling me on? Is he sexy?”

My eyes scanned his body. Yes, Tyler was super sexy, but I wasn’t about to admit that out loud to anyone.

“No, he’s not a masseuse.” I realized I didn’t know what Tyler did for work. I pulled the phone away and asked, “What’s your job?”

“I’m the town vet.”

Maybe it’s the way he shoved his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans or how the corner of his lips curled as he leaned against the dark wooden fireplace mantel, but that was hot. A tall hunk of muscle who took care of kittens and puppies all day? Christ, Tyler had turned into a wet dream in the last eleven years.

I was now picturing him shirtless performing CPR on a tiny, furry kitten. With sweat dripping down his brow, he tried everything to keep the animal alive. At the last minute, as he was on the verge of crying out in frustration and anguish, there was a minuscule meow and he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that feline wouldn’t die that day.

This needed to be a show to binge watch. It would beat Game of Thrones in views.

“He’s a vet,” I said bringing the phone back to my ear.

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