Page 29 of Royal Desire

A real guy’s guy.

Not only do I know who I am, but I know the kind of man I intend to be for the rest of my life.

Or so I thought.

It appears that’s old news—like last week.

I had no fucking idea I could be this much of an asshole. Ruby’s tears almost brought me to my knees. They were a sucker punch to my gut. But instead of pulling her into my arms and telling her everything would be okay like my soul was begging me to do, I said hold it right there, let me take this asshole to a new level.

Was I a jerk in a courtroom when I was defending my clients? Hell, yes. I’m your resident asshole, all day, every day. It’s required.

But in real life?

No fucking way. I was raised by an asshole. The world doesn’t need any more shit like my father’s spread far and wide. Plus, being an ass takes a lot of energy. I do not care about anyone that much.

But since Ruby came back into my life, I can’t control it. I hate her for leaving with no word, yet the desire to be near her burns within me. The two have created somewhat of a stalker that I’m not proud of.

And since she’s not working at The Combover or singing at the manor today, the new stalker in me is shit out of luck.

I could bury myself in work, but it’s Sunday. By the time the sun rose this morning, I forced myself to leave the house.

My mountain bike and I were on the trails for hours. I didn’t keep track of the miles. It was just me, the spring morning air, and my depressing-as-hell thoughts that were all pointed right back at me. The farther I went, the longer it took me to get home. Bonus, if I’m exhausted at the end of the day, I might not have the energy to obsess over Ruby and every memory of my life that she’s intertwined with.

I got home, sat in the sauna until I sweated a bucket, took a shower, and turned on a preseason baseball game since it’s the most depressing time of the year for sports. I’m reclined on the sofa trying to think about anything other than the woman who is turning me into someone I hate.

In the process, all I do is try to think of a reason to see her. I’m reminded of my younger self. There were years of my life that if I went a day without Ruby, it was because my parents forced me to attend a farcical family vacation, I was out of town for a basketball tournament, or there was a blizzard, and it was impossible to make my way across Winslet.

That only happened once, but it’s worth mentioning because it kept me away from her for two whole days.

“Payne?”

I close my eyes and let my head fall to the back of the sofa.

She calls for me again. “Payne?”

Fuck.

Another reason why the weekends are miserable. I’m here by myself with Mom.

“Payne!”

I scrape a hand down my face. “Yeah?”

If I weren’t upstairs, I never would’ve heard her—the house is too big. I can’t remember the last time she called or texted.

Her voice is weak and slurred. Just a normal Sunday in the Deacon house. “I don’t feel good.”

Imagine that.

I drop my feet to the floor and make myself stand. “Coming.”

I cross the entire second floor of the estate. When I get to her bedroom door, she’s on the floor halfway between her bed and the bathroom. She’s in the same clothes I’ve seen her in for days.

I ask the most rhetorical question possible, because answers are endless at this point. “What’s wrong?”

She tries to sit up to her ass. “I feel like shit.”

I glance at the empty bottles next to the bed that weren’t there yesterday. “That’ll happen when you consume nothing but alcohol.”