Page 85 of Please Save Me

“You uh… thanks?” I looked down at the eggs, confused as to why he did this.

“When you have sex with someone, the polite thing to do is make them breakfast the next morning,” he explained.

“Did the internet tell you that?” I scoffed.

“...Yes.”

He seemed almost a little embarrassed, so I tried not to draw attention to it more than I already had. I thanked him before poking at them with my fork and taking a bite. The eggs were rubbery and under-seasoned, but it was the thought that counted.

“So, you gonna eat with me? Seeing as that’s the polite thing to do and all,” I asked.

“Uh, no?” Sebastian looked at me like I was stupid. “I have more important things to do.”

“...Like what?”

Sebastian hesitated, every muscle in his body growing stiff as he scratched at his neck.

“Dale wanted me to meet with him again, this time alone.”

Chapter 27

Sebastian

Last night, Cameron Cole wasnothingmore than a means to an end. I was high, and I wanted to feel valued; I wanted to feel attractive; I wanted to see what all the fuss about the literal bear of a man was. And I learned something about myself: I didn’t like casual sex. In the moment, it felt great, but it now left me with a looming sensation of guilt.

I knew I was in the right. Cameron and I were both consenting adults; he was in a polyamorous relationship, and we shared a partner. Hell, if I told Mason what I did, she’d probably give me a congratulatory high-five and ask for the details.

But she wasn’t where my guilt stemmed from. Instead… I felt a little bad for using Cameron. This type of feeling wasn’t like me at all. In my experience, everyone except for Mason existed to use me or be used by me. This was true of my family, my friends, and even random strangers on the street. But… Last night with Cameron didn’t seemlikethat. He asked for my consent, and if I told him to stop, it felt like he would have. He even stayed by me as we slept last night, running his thumb across my back until I fell asleep.

Deep down, it felt like he cared about me, but I knew that was my imagination talking. So, instead of dwelling on the fact and reminding myself I was theleast desirable person in my house, I focused on the task at hand: Meeting with Dale.

At some level, Dale had to be involved in the Sons of Christ. The proof I had of this came from the mention of his name in the newspaper article I had Mason translate for me about a month ago. I also had testimony from Cameron, but seeing as he was also involved with the cult, I had to take it with a grain of salt. After all, Cameron could be fluffing up Dale’s involvement just to make himself seem better. All I knew for sure was that Dale had enough power in the community not to live in a dump like the Parsonage.

I swiped my fingers across the wooden dining table before me. Dust stuck to my skin, and I wiped it on the sleeve of my jacket. Dale had instructed me to make myself comfortable while he put on a pot of coffee for us, but that was an impossible task. Not only was the house coated in the dirt and grime that only time could provide, I didn’t trust Dale. Not that I thought he could hurt me, but that his interest alone was disconcerting. I rationed that he probably knew I was a detective, but I assumed if that were the case, he’d be smart enough to hurt me. And, by now, he’d had time.

He could have cut my brake lines after our encounter in the grocery store, he could have had Cameron apprehend me yesterday, and who knows what other chances he had. I knew for certain he was following me, but if his intent wasnotmalicious, why was he doing it?

The house creaked as Dale made his way out of the kitchen with a silver tray in hand. The cups chattered slightly as he trembled on his way to the table. Normally, I would have just let him struggle, but I didn’t want to have to deal with spilled coffee. My shoes were expensive, and if Dale couldn’t afford a suitable place to live, I knew he wouldn’t be able to replace my oxfords.

So, instead of making a scene near an old man, I stood and placed my hands inches from his. Our knuckles touched, and I realized just how cold Dale was. The temperature of his body made it feel like he should have been dead a long time ago.

But, in some regards, it was better late than never.

“Allow me.” I forced a smile, hoping to appear friendly, but my clipped tone probably negated it.

Still, Dale eased into my offer. His shoulders fell slightly as he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank ya. Never get old,” he joked, patting my back, almost causing me to drop the coffee.

I wrestled with the urge to tell him not to touch me. Instead, I laughed.

“It happens to the best of us,” I assured him as I placed the tray on the table.

Dale nodded as he settled into the chair closest to mine.

“Bein’ a senior citizen is as much of a blessing as it is a curse,” he started. “It means I’ve lived a long life… but it also means I ain’t got many years left.”

Thank God.

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