Page 16 of How to Trust a Hellhound
“I’m not going to tell him to dip his balls in a vat of boiling oil, Q,” I said again.
“Are you sure? Maybe right between that part about not contacting you again and the information on how you’re letting him stay inyourplace for another two months?” Q asked.
I snorted, then I hit send on the text, breathing out a sigh. Q put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“I still can’t believe you said ‘we can’t make each other happy.’ But it was totally a nice break-up text. And very definite, at least.” Q made a face when he called it nice that had me snorting again.
“Ok, so how do I block him?” I asked. I mean, I knew, but somehow it was just easier to give my phone over to Q so he could do all the work.
Q pressed a few buttons, then looked at me. “He’s blocked on texts and calls. I’m going to block him everywhere. What socials do you have? What’s his email address? I’ll block that, too.”
I told Q, and he went to work. I kind of just sat there feeling a little numb. Would it really be so easy to get Rick out of my life? Somehow, I didn’t think so. Ihadbeen final and decisive in the text, but Rick was used to getting his way. I didn’t think he even really cared about me anymore, but hewouldcare about being broken up with. He’d once told me he’d never been broken up with before and that he always chose his boyfriends carefully. I think I was supposed to feel honored or something.
Q eventually handed my phone back, patted my shoulder, and said, “Done. You let us know if the fucker finds some way to contact you. Liam is good with computer shit. We’ll handle the lease and the landlord—you have nothing to worry about. The guys will bring your stuff over later. Do you want me to stick around?”
“Nah, I’m okay. Thanks a lot, Q. I really do appreciate all this. You guys have been… I mean, I don’t even know why you guys are helping me so much.”
Q smiled, and it didn’t even look snarky. “We’ve been there, Josh, in some way or another. Sometimes we all need help, and we alldeservehelp.” He paused, then added, “God, I sound like Aiden. Don’t tell him I got sappy. That’s his job. If you want anyone’s dick cut off, you let me know.”
I laughed, which I’m sure was Q’s intention,and then he wandered off and left me to watch more documentaries. I wasted most of the day on the couch, and eventually I got up to go shower. If the “guys” were bringing my stuff over, I didn’t want to look like a mess. I’d already embarrassed myself enough yesterday.
I grabbed some underwear, khakis, and a polo from my stuff—yes, my clothes were boring, too—and headed into the bathroom. I unwrapped my wrist, and I was amazed at how much better it looked. I’d need to wrap it again, and I could probably manage, but… Well, Toby would be pissed. I’d been here overnight and all day, and I hadn’t even told him yet. Shower first, I decided, then a message to Toby, because I was sure he’d be knocking on my door five seconds after I texted him.
The hot water felt amazing, and I took my time. Getting undressed and dressed was slow work, but I managed. Once I was dressed and brushed my teeth, I texted Toby.
I’m in the cabin on your property. Stop by if you can and I’ll explain.
It was short, but I didn’t want to text the whole story, especially since Toby would just need all the details in person anyway. When I walked out of the bathroom, I stopped. There was a takeout container and a bag on the table. When I walked over, I saw a note, too.
Dear Josh,
We got the rest of the stuff from your place. We put it in the bedroom for now, since Aiden told us we shouldn’t unpack for you. I also picked you up some pasta from the little place in town. The sets in the bag are for you—I hope you enjoy them.
I’ll see you soon. Call if you need anything.
It was signed by Wilder, and his phone number was below that. I blushed a little looking at it. He was just being helpful, that was all. I still took the note into my bedroom and grabbed my phone to enter his number in my contacts.
I walked back out and opened the bag, and inside were two building sets—a plum blossom and a polaroid camera. I felt tears gather in my eyes, and I blinked to try and clear them. How long had it been since I’d done a build? Even more than that, how long since I’d done one and hadn’t hidden it or taken apart the end product because it was “stupid looking”?
Now I could build it and leave it out, since Rick wasn’t here to talk about my shitty taste. Not that this was my place, and I needed to remember that, too. God, I’d have to figure out where I was gonna stay. I couldn’t take advantage of the Smith family forever.
I still couldn’t believe Wilder had got me building sets and brought me dinner. I was almost glad he wasn’t here. I wouldn’t have known how to react, and I probably would’ve made a fool of myself somehow or another. I didn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a gift, aside from special occasions. Of course, Toby and Sebbie and I all exchanged presents for birthdays and stuff. This felt weirdly intimate, though, and I wondered if Wilder felt sorry for me. Or maybe he was just that much of a nice guy.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I went over to open it. Both Toby and Sebbie were in the doorway, and they both gasped a bit when they saw my face.
I put a hand up to my cheek where it had bruised, covering it. “Yeah, it’s been a rough day. I have to wrap my wrist—it’s sprained—if you guys can help me.”
That seemed to spur them into motion, because Toby and Sebbie both bustled in, and Sebbie grabbed the wrapping off the table where I’d put it and maneuvered me into a chair. He looked at my wrist critically, gently prodding it, and Toby just stared at me. They didn’t say anything.
“Don’t make this weird, you guys. I’m not dead or anything,” I joked.
“I’ll kill him. No, I’ll have Dexter kill him,” Toby started, and I could tell he was really upset. “He can make it look like an accident, and he can make sure his body is never found. He can burn him to ash so there’s no trace left. He can even torture him first. Maybe remove his fingers, although maybe his dick would be better…”
Sebbie just looked at me and smiled softly as Toby ranted. This was more like it. Toby was a bloodthirsty paranormal romance writer, and the situation wouldn’t be complete without some plotting.
“You okay?” Sebbie asked softly, finishing up the wrapping on my wrist.
I nodded my head. Toby was pacing and discussing torture methods for when they murdered “Rick the Dick.” I chuckled at the nickname, but Toby just kept ranting. Sebbie put a hand on my shoulder.
