Page 58 of The Guy in the Alley

He hesitated and glanced toward the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to?—”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Could he quit rejecting me? It fucking hurt.

My evident irritation made him furrow his brow at me.

“I just don’t wanna be in the way. You can’t honestly get pissy about that.”

“Try me.” I scowled and shoveled more food into my mouth. “Where you’re concerned, I can get pissy about anything.”

Against my better judgment, I wanted him to stay. More than that, I wanted him to want to stay. Was that too much to ask?

He sighed and reached for his water bottle. “It seems I keep making the wrong call about you.” He uncapped the bottle and cleared his throat. “I’ve been staying in the alley a few times a week because I wanna see you.”

A few times a week.

That was too many nights in the cold, in the rain, and before that, in the snow.

Because I wanna see you…

Just not approach me? He wanted to watch from a safe distance?

Correction: he didn’t wanna be a bother.

What was it he’d written in the letter…? My energy was better placed with others.

Idiot.

I had to be blunt.

I set down my plate and pulled up a leg to face him better. “Can you stay? Without fucking off in the morning.”

He swallowed and nodded minutely. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, for fuck’s— “What do you want?”

His jaw ticked with tension. “I want you next to me, of course.”

There was nothing “of course” about that. One of the reasons his letter had fucked me up so much was that he’d claimed one thing and acted as if the opposite were true. He’d told me I’d gotten him attached, and then he’d just left. He’d implied spending that time with me had been a dream, right before he’d jumped back into his own nightmare.

I wanted that nightmare to end.

I…I wanted the dream back, and I realized I hadn’t told him this. Not that he’d given me a chance to; I’d had my rude awakening in the days following his disappearance.

“You finally said the right thing,” I muttered. “But just so you know, you leaving never became a relief. It only pissed me off, until I realized I was so angry because it hurt.”

He frowned to himself and scratched at the label on the water bottle. “I never wanted to hurt you.” Yeah, he’d said that in his letter too. “Hell, the opposite—I…” He released a breath, deflating. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Kid.

We’d work on that.

“From now on, I’ll be in your life for as long as you want me to,” he added. “Friends?”

We had a lot to work on.

Come on, friends?

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