Page 13 of Bull's Boy

The light above her head flickered, and he frowned at it, positive he didn’t have a spare to replace it. He weighed the idea of asking his landlord about it. Dale barely remembered to salt the steep stairs that led up to Malcolm’s minuscule third-floor apartment. And the wooden planks on the steps were really starting to bow, but Dale always just waved him off when he mentioned it, saying he’d get to it when the weather was warmer. Or not so hot. Or not so windy…

He just hoped he didn’t fall through on his way up one day. The place was basically the only thing in Knotting Pine in his budget, and there was a reason for that. The whole house looked like it was one strong wind away from blowing over, but it kept the rain off his head—except that one spot in the living room—and he’d never had issues with bugs—though a few bats had sent him screaming outside—and while Dale was useless about fixing things, he’d never given Malcolm a hard time when he was a day or two late with rent.

Sighing, Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you I’m fine. I don’t know why I got so upset.”

She shouldered her way past him, ignoring his feeble attempt at blocking her path. “No, youtextedme you were fine, after sneaking out of Bo’s yesterday without saying bye and then ignoring me all day.”

He grimaced as he pushed the door shut, putting his weight behind it to get it to latch. “I was working all day. I literally got home like fifteen minutes ago and immediately let you know.”

The fact she was already at his place made him wonder if she’d sweet-talked someone at Bo’s into telling her when he left. His money was on Raul. The man barely spoke to most everyone else but adored Dahlia. Most people did. It was sort of hard not to.

“Psh. It’s Tuesday.” She rolled her eyes and pulled a bottle of wine out of her giant purse and waved it in his face emphatically. “We’ve never been so busy all day that you couldn’t give some sort of sign of life.”

That was true. There’d been plenty of times he could have responded to her check-ins instead of waiting until he’d gotten home.

But he’d been… distracted.

All day, he’d had to force himself not to constantly check where Bull was or what he was doing. It was not a problem he’d ever had before. It wasn’t that he’d ignored Bull in the past—that was impossible with the size of him—but he was always just… there. Helping where he could, getting teased by Sally, or quietly refilling drinks and bussing tables.

He was Malcolm’s supervisor and the boss’s kid, and that was it.

Or it had been.

Until he’d gone out of his way to pick Malcolm up from a shitty situation he’d gotten himself into. No complaints or guilt trips, just a quiet ride back to safety, where he showed little bits of himself to Malcolm he’d never seen before.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. And it wasn’t. Not on its own. Not when Malcolm had his brother’s wedding to worry about and his first first date since Gemma had broken things off a month ago and an endless pile of bills he needed to pay.

Except his date—who’d asked for them to meet for coffee before her shift started—went to the bathroom about twenty minutes after sitting down and just… never came back.

Ghosted. During a fucking coffee date.

He’d been so upset about it he’d gone to Bo’s to see Dahlia without thinking clearly and made a fool of himself in front of Christina. Because she was amazing, all she’d done when she’d seen him that morning as he was clocking in was smile and raiseher brows in a silentYou okay? When he’d nodded quickly, she’d gone about her business, no more questions asked.

If only he could erase the humiliation of what had happened in Sally’s office as easily. He should have left when Dahlia did, but he’d still felt like shit and had thought Bull would just leave him alone to mope for a bit before heading out.

But because he wasalsoamazing, he’d come in and shown Malcolm nothing but kindness. He’d even offered him tissues, for heaven’s sake. There had been zero judgment on his face as he’d tried to make himself smaller in the tiny space, watching Malcolm with soft eyes.

He’d looked at Malcolm like he truly saw him—all the sad, ugly bits included—and didn’t mind. Maybe even appreciated what he saw when he looked at Malcolm. Like he wanted to keep looking beyond what was normally acceptable between two people who weren’t even really friends.

And Malcolm had liked that. Had liked feeling important to someone who didn’t owe him anything beyond a paycheck for the work he did. Had liked feeling seen when his date had looked right through him and then bailed without saying anything.

Bull would never treat someone like that.

Being all up in his feelings and with the realization that his boss might be a little attracted to him on his mind—which probably should have been weird, but he was just grateful to be considered a desirable person—he’d thrown away his first instinct to decline the invitation to the party and actually said yes.

Which was…

He didn’t even know.

But he did know that there was no way Bull didn’t regret doing it. After a night of restless sleep and all day watching for any signs of thelookhe’d sworn he’d seen in the office, he was half convinced he’d imagined it. Which made it a spur-of-the-moment invite when Malcolm had been pathetic. It was a pity invite, which hurt a little, but Malcolm didn’t know how to let Bull off the hook without looking ungrateful or like he wasn’t comfortable around the giant man.

And… part of him didn’t want to.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to a party, so it was probably during his one year of college. He’d made some friends and tried to do the normal post-high school thing, but he’d bailed after a year, not wanting to end up drowning in debt for a degree he didn’t even really want.

As soon as he stopped going, he’d lost touch with the friends he’d made and quickly became too busy working—sometimes multiple jobs—to do much socializing. His, Dahlia, and Becca’s weekly night of dinner and some episodes of their show was about all the “getting out” he did.

He was only twenty-two, dammit. He wanted to let loose and pretend he wasn’t agonizingly single with a shitty family and barely any money in his account.

---