Page 15 of How to Trust a Hellhound
Someone knocked on the door, pulling me out of my head.
“Josh? It’s Q,” a voice called out.
“Come in,” I called back.
Although the door was a few feet away, the thought of getting off the couch where I was wrapped in a blanket was not appealing. Plus, it was Q’s boyfriend’s cabin, or one of his brother’s. I still didn’t quite know who owned what, since they all seemed to treat everything like it belonged to everyone. It was weird, but it was also kind of nice.
Q walked in, handed me a paper bag and a cup of coffee, and stared at my face. If he’d looked sad or like he pitied me, I probably would have started crying. Q just looked pissed off, though.
“Want me to kick his ass?” he asked. “I’m small, but I’m feisty as fuck.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. Q quirked a smile at me and sat down next to me on the couch.
“Aiden made you some lunch, and I insisted on the coffee. They’re heathens. Aiden wouldn’t have even brought over a coffee maker this morning if I hadn’t told himto,” Q said.
“Thanks, Q.” I set down my phone, pulled open the bag, and saw a wrapped sandwich and a pouch full of cookies. I thought about eating, but my stomach cramped, thinking about the text I still needed to send.
Q was staring at me, eyebrows raised. “I’m serious about the kick-his-ass part.”
“Maybe that would be easier than the break-up text I’m trying to send,” I muttered.
“Ohhh, a break-up text. I can definitely get on board with that. How about ‘Go fuck yourself.’ Or maybe ‘Eat shit and die, and don’t ever contact me again, motherfucker.’”
I laughed. If only I were that bold. I probably wouldn’t be in this mess if I had Q’s attitude.
“Are you not sure if you want to break up?” Q asked.
I looked over at him, but I didn’t see judgment.
“No. We’re done. We’ve been done, honestly, and I don’t know why it took this”—I gestured at my face with my wrapped wrist—“to make me finalize things.”
“Because you’re a giver,” Q said. He must have seen the look on my face, because he continued, “That isn’t a bad thing. You give people every opportunity and think everyone is inherently good. You have endless patience. You care about people, and you want to take care of them and make things better. I see that with your interactions with Toby and Sebbie. I bet you haven’t even told them yet, because the idea of someone worrying over you is probably uncomfortable to you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Rick is an asshole, and you deserve so much better. So tell him to fuck off, or let me tell him to fuck off, and then block him, because you’re done taking his shit.”
“Block him?” I asked.
“Yup. Block the fucker. You don’t need to hear from him. Make it final. The guys are picking up all your shit. If yourname is on the lease, we can totally handle that for you, and I doubt you have joint bank accounts or anything, but we can handle that, too, if necessary,” Q said.
“No joint accounts,” I said distractedly. “My name is on the lease. It’s technically my place. I didn’t even think…”
“Hey,” Q said. “No worries. Liam will call the landlord and tell him you’ve vacated and your ex is now the resident, so he can transfer the lease or give the guy notice. Do you have a deposit you need back?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m leaving without notice. He can keep the deposit. Or use it as the next month’s rent. I don’t care. I don’t want Rick hounding me for money, so that’s probably best anyway. He won’t be able to afford that place, so that will give him time to find something else.”
Q shook his head. “You’re too fucking nice, Josh.”
My cheeks heated. Maybe Iwastoo nice, but I was also non-confrontational, and I didn’t want to fight with Rick. I didn’t want to be blamed for him not having a place to stay, because then I’d feel guilty.
Rick made me feel guilty a lot in our relationship, and I didn’t need to feel guilty about us breaking up.
“I just… I don’t want him to be able to blame me for anything,” I answered. “I don’t want to fight. I just want it over.”
“Ok, so let’s compose a nice, non-confrontational text and then block the fucker,” Q said, and he handed me my phone.
I managed to write the text—eventually—and I even chuckled a few times, because Q wasnotgood at non-confrontational. I think he suggested half the stuff he did just to make me laugh, but it felt good.
