AllFreeNovel
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I’m divorced, and I know most people are ashamed of admitting that, but I’m not. Sometimes in life you win, and sometimes you don’t, but there’s no point denying when you get it wrong. I’m a monogamous, family-oriented man who wants to come home to the love of my life every night, and I’m willing to be patient until I find him.
It sounded good. It sounded great, in fact. It was exactly what Peyton might have written. Or at least, close to it. He probably would have talked about his body and his disease and how he was tired of letting it control him.
He wished he could be that honest.
They were a match, so he tapped on the guy’s message icon, then drummed his fingers on the side of his phone before finally going with:
Hey, I’m Peyton. I saw we matched, and you sound like an interesting guy. Let me know if you want to chat.
God, it sounded pathetic. He fought the urge to groan loudly as he pushed to his feet, then gently prodded at his bag to see if it was ready for a change. As he turned toward the house, he heard a sudden and quiet string of swearing coming from his neighbor’s house, and his curiosity took control of his body.
Tiptoeing over the soft grass, he peered through a small gap in the fence for his first glimpse of the man who had been so unkindly returning Peyton’s bakes. He expected some old, gnarled curmudgeon of a man—or woman—hell if he knew for sure.
Instead, he found a gorgeous, middle-aged guy with short brown hair, olive skin, and rippling biceps. He was stretched out on a yoga mat with one knee pressed to his chest, his eyes closed. Peyton had no idea why the man was cursing, but after another second of watching—he realized what it was.
The man dropped his leg, but it didn’t lie flat or straight. It just kind of flopped over, and then the guy had to push himself to sit, manually adjusting his legs. Peyton watched as the man’s calves began to tremble like he was freezing, and the neighbor started cursing again as he massaged over his thighs.
Peyton’s gaze roamed the yard, and a few feet away he saw a wheelchair—and then, on the covered patio, a walker.
The disability issue didn’t make him feel sorry for the guy or excuse the fact that he was a raging dick. And it was even worse learning that he was closer to Peyton’s age, because he should have fucking known how to use common courtesy and just gone over and told Peyton he wasn’t interested in baked goods or whatever the fuck his problem was.
Peyton started to bristle with irritation, and he was seconds away from popping up over the fence to give the guy a piece of his mind, but the neighbor’s phone started to ring.
“Walk away,” Peyton whispered to himself. “Walk away. Just fuckingwalk away…”
“What’s up?” the guy asked. His voice was a delicious rumble, matching his face and body, though at most he was objectively attractive. Peyton was most definitely the kind of guy who wasn’t attracted to assholes.
There was a long silence, and Peyton was about to turn, but the guy spoke again.
“Okay. Is she…” The guy stopped and sighed. “No. I’m not going to talk to her just because she gave you some sob story about a made-up health condition.”
Peyton grimaced, then looked down to find the kitten nudging his legs. He reached for her, cuddling her to his chest. “I bet he treats everyone like…”
“Do you know what she did last week? She stalked me at my rehab center and waited for me in the parking lot. Then she tried to take my fucking wheelchair so I’d have to sit there and talk to her.”
“Oh shit,” Peyton whispered.
“The most I can say is she gave birth to me, and after weeks like this one,” the neighbor said, sounding more tired than anything now, “I wonder if it would have been better that she didn’t.”
Peyton winced. He’d felt that way once or twice about his own birth mother when his depression was raging, and he didn’t want to get out of bed, and his parents were pressuring him to be more grateful that they’d taken him in. It had taken a lot of strength to move past it without any kind of support, and by the sound of his neighbor’s voice, he was right there in the worst of it.
“Jesus Christ,” the neighbor sighed out after a long moment. “I’m not telling you I want to kill myself, Eli. I’m telling you that it’s been a hard week and you know what a shitty person she is. Do you really think I should go down there and…”
Peyton held the kitten closer.
“Okay. Thank you. Tell the twins I won’t be in today, okay? My legs aren’t cooperating with me at all, and I’m just fucking tired. I just want…” The man stopped, then let out a defeated laugh. “I don’t know what I want. Some comfort food and like six naps.”
There was a silence, broken suddenly by the cat letting out an impossibly loud meow for its size, and Peyton froze. There was a shuffling sound, and out of fear that the man would get into his chair and roll toward the fence, Peyton darted for his patio door and slipped in. He shut it as quietly as he could manage, then stared down at the kitten in his arms.
“Well, I’mdefinitelynot going to name you stealth.”
“Mrow.”
He rolled his eyes, then moved to the counter where he had two kitten food in cans he’d grabbed from the supermarket, and he opened the lid on one. Definitely-Not-Stealth happily rushed over to help herself, and Peyton moved into the kitchen, staring into his cupboards.
He should have learned his lesson the first two times he tried to win his neighbor over, but no one ever accused him of being a reasonable man.
“There has to be something,” Peyton mused. He glanced over at the kitten and shrugged. “Brownies? Everyone loves brownies when they’re sad.”
