CHAPTER 163

MOONA POV

Posh guy isn’t so much of a dick as I thought he would be. I normally hate rich people – they look down their noses when I pass them on the street like they’re so much better than me. But being rich doesn’t give you a free pass out of Dumbville. Having money doesn’t make your shit smell any better than mine.

      I thought I’d hate this guy, Cain, but I don’t. Even though he’s a negligent asshole with his fencing, and his temper is as hot as mine, he doesn’t seem like an absolute total douche.

 I feel a weird sizzle when he’s close, and it’s not just because he’s a proper man – like Brian–but because he’s different to everyone else I’ve ever met. A different difference to Brian.

Brian is strong and calm and considered. Brian looks at me as though I’m someone who could be somebody someday. He looks at me as though I’m more than my shitty reputation, like I have my own mind and my own brain and my own reasons for acting like I do.

 Brian gives me hope I’ve never dared to have before – that there may be someone out there strong enough to hold me tight and not let go. Who can see through all my shit and call it out for what it is – a stupid, shitty way of coping with being alone.

 Cain, on the other hand, he seems like the guy who’ll see through all my shit and hold me firm, keep me right. Cain seems like the kind of guy to not take any shit at all.

His features are harder than Brian’s. His hair is cropped short and his jaw is solid. His eyes are dark and heavy and his nose is slightly Roman. He’s put together well for a guy who’s clearly greying. He’s got to be at least forty, too.

I guess they’ve been friends for a long time, him and Brian. I’m good at reading people, because knowing people’s ways is in my blood, and it’s obvious these guys really give a shit about each other. The way people should give a shit about each other but rarely do.

 Even though Cain has every right to be seriously pissed at both of us, he shakes his head and helps us out, cleaning up the crow shit and picking up the feathers from the sides.

I wonder why he came back early. I wonder why he didn’t call the cops and make a big fucking scene like he threatened.

      I’m really relieved I can stay. It makes me scared how relieved I am, because good things hurt so bad when they’re taken away, and I’m not sure I wanna go through that. I’m not sure I can stand losing Brian before he’s even been mine.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand losing this house, with its big airy windows and its lovely green fields. I’d find it so easy to fall in love with this place.

      And to fall in love with being around these guys, too.

      I feel safe as I work alongside them, even though they’re both pissed at me for different reasons. I’ve never had people pissed at me before who’ve knuckled down all the same and helped me sort my crap out.

      They don’t have to help me clean up this mess, but they do.

Cain doesn’t have to give me a roof over my head for another few days, and I don’t know why he is, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful he cared enough to sweep up the glass and not call the cops on me. I’m grateful he cared enough not to make Brian pay for my stupid fuck up.

 I work as hard as I can, because I’m not lazy and I want them to know it. I get carried away in the moment sometimes, and I don’t always think about the practical stuff, but I’m not a slacker.

 I didn’t mean to trash Cain’s pretty house, it’s just that I cared about saving the crow more than I cared about his carpets.

      I hope he knows that.

      I hope Brian knows that too.

 Brian fills up a tub of soapy water and attacks the white living room carpet with a scrubbing brush. He doesn’t stop scrubbing, not even as I drop to my knees alongside him and place my hand on his.

      “I can do it,” I say, but he sighs and carries on. He flinches when I turn his face to mine, closing his eyes as my fingers brush the shadow of stubble on his jawline. I hate the way he shies away from me touching him. If he hadn’t then I’d have tried to kiss him again like I did last night.

      “Let me do it,” I insist and he lets go of his grip on the brush.

      “I should’ve called last night,” he tells me, staying put on his haunches as I continue what he started. I glance up at Cain as he heads past us into the hallway with a pan of more broken glass. I wait until I’m sure he’s out of earshot.

 “You should’ve stayed last night,” I told him. “You should’ve stayed with me. We both wanted it.”

      “This needs to stop,” he says and my heart aches. When he’s serious he means it. He always means it. I both hate and love how he always means what he says.

      I play ignorant. “What needs to stop?”

      He brushes my hair away from my forehead and smiles one of those sad smiles. It’s not you, it’s me. Such a fucking cliché.

      I hope he doesn’t insult me by fucking saying it.

      “I care about you,” he says. “I care about what happens to you. Fuck, Moona, I was worried sick about you. But I can’t let this turn into anything it shouldn’t be.”

“Anything it shouldn’t be?” My tone comes out sharper than I mean it. “Who’s to say how this should and shouldn’t be?! Who makes up the rules?!” My eyes burn into his. “Did you make them up? What about what I think should and shouldn’t be?”

I stare right at him, all thoughts of scrubbing muddy boot prints drifting into nothing.

 “I want you,” I tell him. “I want to be with you. When I’m with you, I feel like we fit. I feel like you could get me, even when I don’t get myself.” I pause. “And I feel like I could get you too.”

      “We do fit,” he says. “And that’s a good thing. We can be friends, Moona. I’d like to be your friend.”

      I’d laugh if I wasn’t so fucking mortified.

      Fucking friend-zoned by the hot older guy I’ve been getting myself off over for months.

      It stings bad.

      “Friends?! You want to be my fucking friend?!”

      “Yes,” he says, and he’s got that serious edge again. “I’d very much like to be your friend, Moona.”

      “And that’s all, just friends? No matter what?” My eyes search his for a chink in his armour, but he looks so sure.

      “Just friends,” he says. “And I’ll be your friend no matter what. I’m on your side, Moona, always. You can count on me.”

      I hear Cain’s footsteps in the hallway, and I’m too fucking proud for either of them to see me upset like a silly little cow, so I grit my teeth, shrug my shoulders and act like I don’t give a shit about Brian anyway.

 “Fine,” I tell him. “Just fucking friends it is then.”

     

  I turn my back on him and scrub that carpet until I get blisters.

But they don’t hurt nearly as much as my heart does.