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“Oh.” I’m surprised, but it doesn’t bother me. “But why did you lose your job? Surely there’s a law that says you can’t be fired because of your sexual orientation.”
“They didn’t fire me.” He runs his hands through his hair while lost in his own thoughts. “I quit.” He turns back to me. “The whole thing blew up in my face. My parents had a feeling I was gay but didn’t know for sure until I told them six days ago, before they found out some other way. The guy I was living with . . . moved out. Said it wasn’t working for him.”
“So I find myself renting the house next door to you from a friend. I have no job and lost the guy I thought cared about me.” He shrugs. “My stay here isn’t permanent, just a stepping stone until I can find another job, another town to start over. I need to be away from everyone who I thought loved and supported me, but didn’t. When something like this happens, it goes to show you who your true friends and family are.”
I seriously don’t know what to say. The man called Max is a stranger to me, but my heart goes out to him. Why can’t everyone accept the life choices others make? He’s not a mass murderer or anything; he’s gay for God’s sake. It makes me angry.
“I’m really sorry you’re having to go through all this, and I’d say this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” I smile and briefly cover his hand with mine.
Isn’t it funny how hearing the word ‘gay’ automatically puts you at ease with a guy?
Max squeezes my hand before letting go.
“Thank you.” He nods his head and I realize I’ve just made a new friend.
Chapter Twenty
Ryder
“You’re a slob,” Jace complains, shoving dirty pots into the sink he’s just filled with water while I stay in my prone, laid back position on the sofa.
It’s been two weeks since I discovered Dahlia gone. Two weeks of hell. Two weeks of falling asleep on the sofa. Two weeks of missing the woman I love every minute of every day.
After Evan’s call, which turned my life upside down, I shut everyone out. Jace showing up today is his way of trying to help a situation where there’s nothing that anyone can do.
Suzie has been managing and running Kix while I’ve ignored everything around me while living on pizza. I’m getting sick of fast food though. And I’m getting sicker of Jace turning up here and calling me a slob. It’s forcing me to take a good look around at not just the apartment, which is a mess, but at myself.
If I want Dahlia to come back, I need to start looking after the apartment. If she walked in right now, she’d probably turn around and keep running.
My feelings for her haven’t changed, and I’m desperate to have her back in my arms. But until my fucked up past is resolved, I can’t do that to her. Which also makes me feel like the biggest bastard alive, considering the only way for everything to be back to rights is with Brittany dying. And even then, I’m not sure anything will ever be the same again.
Somehow, I’m going to get Reece to tell me her location. I’m not going to talk to her, but I need to see her, at the least. I need to know how she’s doing and I can’t do that without setting my eyes on her.
Jace, of course, has come charging in today to get me back into the land of the living, although he hasn’t been there in a long while.
I’m not sure how he’d react if I started laughing at him standing at the sink sorting my kitchen out. He’s the least domestic of the two of us and seeing him now is damn amusing.
Dragging my sorry ass from the sofa, I take one last glance at him before heading to the bathroom to shower and shave. I probably look like a wild beast with the fur all over my damn face. It’s itchy as fuck as well.
To save time, I shave while in the shower and probably nick myself in the process a few hundred times it feels. Finally, feeling cleaner, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist.
When I reach my bedroom, I realize I need to add laundry to the list of things I have to do. I can’t see the bed for jeans and shirts. I guess it’s as well that I’ve got no intention of sleeping in it again until Dahlia is home with me.
Feeling more positive than I have for the past two weeks, I head out the room to find Jace.
I’m hungry, and not for pizza.
“Eat that,” Jace demands, pointing at the table where he’s just placed two plates heaped with scrambled eggs and toast.
I’m not about to complain because this is one of a few meals he can actually cook and have your taste buds exploding with flavor.
This time is no exception as I dig in; he’s added tomato, mushroom and cheese, which he must have brought with him because I know my fridge isn’t stocked.
“You’re going to be sick if you don’t slow down,” he comments, as he sits across from me.
He’s right. I hate it when he’s right.
“Thanks for doing this.”
