Page 47 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
“This has nothing to do with my ex,” I grated out.
“Doesn’t it?”
“No,” I spat back.
“Sarah took advantage of you, but not everyone else will. You’ve got more than enough money for ten lifetimes, Rhett. Why not let Piper have the house?”
“I’m not giving a house away,” I said, even though I’d just been wondering why I hadn’t done just that.
But I knew why I hadn’t let her have it. It was because when you gave in to a woman with big, tear-filled eyes, she sank her claws into your chest and squeezed your heart until you felt like you were going to die. She reminded you that you were worthless and that no one would really love you. Not when they really knew you.
That would never happen to me. Not again.
Ollie looked like he wanted to say more, but all that came out was a heavy sigh. I knew what he was thinking. I was different before Sarah. More generous. More trusting. She was the first woman who’d shown me a bit of care, and I was so starved of affection that I clung to her harder than I should’ve. I gave her everything she demanded. I worked myself sick to provide for her.
All for her to betray me in the end.
Now I knew what people were really like, deep down inside. My parents and Sarah weren’t the exceptions—they were the rule. People were selfish and cruel and didn’t hesitate to stabyou in the back. They hurt you when you needed them, just because they could. They took pleasure in making you feel small and afraid.
The only way to protect yourself was to be the strongest person around. To never let someone in to all those awful, mushy, vulnerable parts of you.
I wrapped myself in armor made of money and reputation. No one got in, and that was how I liked it.
Finally, Ollie stood. “How’s the cat?” he asked.
“I got rid of it,” I muttered, staring at my computer screen until my cousin finally walked away. Then, body aching like I’d just climbed to the summit of the Peak, I stood up and headed out, turning all the lights off and locking the office up as I went.
My house was a wonder of glass and timber, perched on the side of the mountain overlooking the town, in the heart of a beautiful, ten-acre property lush with virgin forest. I’d built the house when I’d come back to town, and from the moment I walked in, I wondered why I’d built it so damn big.
The echo of my steps greeted me as I walked in. Outside the wall of windows in the huge living room, the shadow of thousands of trees loomed, and then disappeared when I flicked on the lights. I stared at my own reflection for a beat, then turned at the sound of an outraged meow.
The orange critter stared at me from beside his empty food bowl. I pursed my lips. “Still here, huh.”
He meowed again and nudged a paw against his bowl.
“That thing dispenses food on a schedule, you know,” I pointed out.
The cat didn’t seem to care. He complained again, then came over to butt his little head against my leg.
“All right, all right,” I grumbled, and got the bag of treats Jed had convinced me I needed. Somehow I’d come out with a truck full of toys, scratch posts, treats, food, bowls, and all the other accoutrements that cat owners wasted their money on. I was pretty sure I’d gotten swindled. Whether by Jed or by the cat, I wasn’t sure.
Three or four treats clattered against the bowl, and the cat pounced on it like I hadn’t just fed him a few hours ago. I refreshed his water, then opened my fridge and grabbed a slice of cold pizza. We ate under the harsh kitchen lights, ignoring each other.
“So,” I said after a while. The cat continued to ignore me. “My cousin thinks I’m heartless, but I’m just being pragmatic. Besides, Piper would never accept the house from me. She barely accepted a ride to the hospital, for God’s sake.”
The cat sat back and started licking himself.
“I’m not giving her a house,” I told the cat. I ripped off a piece of cold, tough crust and chewed, scowling. “I know it would be the nice thing to do, and it would probably go far with everyone in town. But last time I gave a woman more than she asked for, she nearly wrecked me.”
The cat stopped grooming himself and stretched out on the kitchen tiles. His back arched, long ginger tail flicking back and forth. On dainty paws, he approached me, sniffing delicately around my legs.
“Besides, she works for me. How could she walk into workafter getting a house from her boss? It would undermine her. So really, I’m doing her a favor by forcing her to sell the house.”
The cat looked up at me then, blinking, and turned away to go hop onto the couch and curl into a tight ball.
“That’s not helpful,” I observed, but the cat was done with me. I ate another slice of pizza and considered the inside of my fridge for a while, then swore under my breath, grabbed my keys, and headed out.
EIGHTEEN
