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“God, you are a fucking curmudgeon.”
“I wear the badge proudly, and you promised to love me for exactly as I am,” Hudson reminded him, echoing one very drunk night where Eli was feeling affectionate.
His friend shot him a middle finger, making Hudson smirk. “Mm, except I get to be the asshole and knock on that poor person’s door. It’s probably someone’s grandma.”
“Nope. It’s this really fucking hot guy at least ten years younger than us,” Hudson told him as he turned the corner. His legs were stiff, likely from the tension because of his mother, but he forced himself to keep going. “But don’t get any ideas. He’s not welcome in my life.”
“Oh, you’re a dick. I’m going to ask him out and then marry him,” Eli called after him. “Then you’ll have to put up with his muffin ways the rest of your life.”
“I will fire and disown you. Lock up before you go,” Hudson called, then closed the bathroom door and all but collapsed on the toilet just before he pissed himself.
Living was messier now. It was complicated and it was slow and it was frustrating.
But he was…maybe not happier with his new career, but he felt better. He didn’t feel like some cog in a wheel, turning until his eventual retirement and death. He didn’t feel the compulsion to flee his office at the end of every workday and lose himself in booze and sex just to distract himself from how utterly bland it all felt.
Washing up, Hudson moved into his office where Pancake was perched on his little wooden swing. The bird eyed him, then opened his beak and began to squawk until Hudson opened the door to the cage. They weren’t exactly friends. The damn thing had been a parting gift from Austin—which was where the ridiculous name had come from. Austin had dropped him off, saying he hadn’t wanted Hudson to be lonely.
It was a pity pet because Austin had the balls to assume Hudson would never meet anyone else.
And now Hudson just had another reason to want to murder the man. Luckily, Pancake was quiet and happy so long as he had access to the top of his cage so he could shit on everything below, and frankly, Hudson wished he could swap places with him sometimes.
“You wanna hang out?” Hudson asked.
The bird wolf-whistled. Hudson knew if he came any closer, the bird would fly at him and bite his face, so he kept his distance and when he was sure Pancake was happy with his top of the cage situation, he turned and walked out, leaving the door open a crack so the thing could waddle into the living room if it wanted.
Hudson moved back toward his sea of boxes in the front room and was relieved to find the plate of muffins and Eli both gone. He really did love his best friend, even if Hudson was not the kind of man who would ever say that aloud no matter how drunk he got. Eli put up with a lot of shit from him, and he was pretty sure the man meant what he said when he told Hudson that he cared about him no matter what a grouchy piece of shit he was.
It was one of the few things that could make his insides go soft, even if no one ever got to see that side of him.
Glancing around, he sighed at the mountain of work he had to do. Luckily his business was running smoothly, and he wouldn’t have products to test and tweak until the shipment came in, but unluckily it meant he would have to focus on his home.
He moved back to his chair since his walker would be no help in getting around with any kind of hustle, then he pried open the office box he’d already started unpacking. Everything was on flat dollies, so he pushed his knees against it, then slowly began to wheel toward the office.
It was endless, agonizing, impossible Herculean tasks, but he would be damned if he didn’t get them all done eventually. After all, he planned to make this home forever. A little lonely, entirely alone, and apparently with a hot neighbor who could bake that he was sure would hate him once he got the plate of muffins back.
All in all, it was livable. It was survivable. And that was all he could possibly ask for.
CHAPTER FIVE
Peyton found himself pacing,muttering under his breath, and ignoring his brother’s pointed stare because he knew the moment he caught Linden’s gaze, he’d spill his guts. He didn’t want to admit to his brother—or to anyone—how humiliating it had been to assume the attractive guy bending over on his front stoop was his dinner delivery. Or how humiliating it was to realize he was returning the plate of muffins, untouched, with nothing but a short note attached to the side.
The guy was kind enough to give him an apologetic smile, but it was full of pity which Peyton hated. “Your neighbor, uh, wanted to drop these back off. He’s…not a muffin guy.”
Peyton had been in the middle of feeling sorry for himself after a bag-leak issue and second shower. He was frustrated and in pain and wondering if he really had made the right choice with the surgery because fuck, it was so hard sometimes.
They were moments of, well, not quite weakness, but offeelingweak, which were getting fewer and farther between. But they weren’t entirely gone.
“It’s fine,” Peyton had managed, but his hurt was clearly obvious in his tone from the way the guy looked at him like he was some kid having his macaroni art rejected.
“See you around?” the guy offered.
Peyton had no idea who he was. Maybe he was the neighbor’s boyfriend, or husband. He wasn’t about to risk further humiliation and ask, only to be told it was none of his business. So instead, he took the plate back inside and stared down at the block writing on the little sticky note.
Not interested.
Peyton wasn’t used to having his bakes rejected. At least, not since he was younger and more experimental with flavors. He’d won local competitions, and had even been on TV once for a little week-long baking contest. He’d come runner-up in that at nineteen. And granted, he knew he wasn’t the best baker in the world, but he also knew he had an unusual talent.
The asshole next door hadn’t even tried them. He probably hadn’t even taken a sniff. The plate was wrapped exactly as Peyton had left it.
