Page 4 of Crushing Clover

He mumbled something unintelligible, then smiled blearily. “Babe, if you want more, go ahead and hop on.”

Babe?

He never called me that. Was it his pet name for Shiloh?

I looked down at him, studying his beloved, familiar face in the soft light filtering through the curtains. After spending timeaway, being used roughly by rich, older men, Noah still seemed very much like a boy.

Wasn’t he what I was supposed to want? The sight of him coming down the street used to make my heart sing, but over time my feelings for him had faded to a vague annoyance, like a chore that was never done and always weighed on my mind.

“Hey, it’s me.” I shook him again and his eyes opened, going round and worried.

“Oh shit!” He sat up so fast our heads almost collided.

I shifted back.

“Uhh, Clover. I was dreaming about you.” He mussed his hair with his telltale hand—he only did it when he was lying.

“Don’t bother. I accidentally got into bed next to Shiloh when I came in.”

He scanned the room, as though she might still be here.

“She’s gone.” How was I feeling so calm?

He straightened his shoulders and frowned at me. “You don’t have any reason to be mad, you know. We’re even. You went to that resort and fucked around on me, so I had every right to step out while you were gone. At least I only slept with one other person.”

Of course he’d use that excuse.

I’d been so eager to come home and feel safe, but the truth was Noah had never been my safe space. I’d always been his. While I worked my ass off, and cleaned up after him like a parent, he did whatever he wanted. We’d become a toxic habit. As unthinkable as leaving him had been only hours ago, the idea of not having to deal with his shit anymore felt liberating.

“You know that me working is different than you cheating.” I shook my head at him. “If it was the same, you wouldn’t be so defensive.”

“So, you’re going to act like the victim after sleeping around and leaving me to take care of everything here?”

“I can assure you it was work, not fun. I earned every damned penny, if not more. I got sent home early because I got so badly hurt.”

“You look fine now—better than fine. Fancy haircut, perfect brows.”

My fading facial bruises probably weren’t apparent in this light.

“Well, I’m not fine, and as for you taking care of everything for the past three weeks, I’ve been taking care of fucking everything since we moved in together.”

“You always act like such a fucking martyr.”

“Even when you were dealing, you didn’t pay for anything—you bought yourself a new computer and put us into debt with your supplier because you used half of your product. Why don’t you get a regular job, for fuck’s sake?”

“I’m not working for minimum wage. It’s a waste of my time.”

I was so tired of this argument I hadn’t even brought it up in six months. He refused to see reason.

“Minimum wage is better than nothing, and it will help you build a resume.”

He fiddled with the sheet, running his fingers over a slub in the fabric. “It’s always about money with you. Life isn’t supposed to be all about work, Clover.”

Great. A fucking philosopher. Hell, he was already wearing a sheet and everything.

“My life is only ‘all about work’ because I’m supporting you and cleaning up after you.”

He scoffed. “We have different standards when it comes to cleaning. So what? Real women love taking care of their man. Shiloh doesn’t mind.”

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