Page 51 of Splintered Hearts

Hunter blinks sleepily at me. “This is all a dream and I’m going to wake up next to my boyfriend in our house, alone?”

“I can make that happen.”

“What?”

“I’m going to move in with Jamie tomorrow.”

“Really?” I nod as the washer clicks open. “Are you sure that’s smart?” he asks.

“I don’t know if it’s smart, but it’s what I’m going to do. I have to get out of here, and I know you agree.”

“I think asking me while I’m cleaning up the mess you just made is not good timing.”

I smile. “You guys deserve to be alone together.” Hunter sighs, putting the sopping wet blanket back in the washer with the right soap.

“If it’s not something you want to do, don’t rush. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m stuffing your jizz-soaked blanket into a washer you tried to put dish soap in, Noah. Again, not the right time.”

“I want to do this.” I need to do this. “You’ve done enough, really. I can’t tell you how grateful I am, and I’m sorry it’s beenlonger than it should have.”

Some of his anger disappears. “Mark’s going to be pissed.”

“I know.”

Nodding, he closes the lid. “I’m going back to sleep. I’ll drive you over whenever you want to go.”

“Wait!” I whisper. “I need a blanket.” Hunter’s head falls back and he groans up at the ceiling. His arm sticks out, waving in the direction of their room. “Really?”

“Last night privileges.”

Following after him, I get in between them, and if it weren’t for how fucking metaphorical this seems in our relationship it would actually feel nice. “Here, take this blanket.”

“Your chest hair is enough.” Snuggling between them, I feel Hunter roll over away from me. “Goodnight, Puck Daddy.”

It’s quiet for a moment before I hear him say softly, “Good night, Noah.”

Thirteen

Noah

“No. Nope. No fucking way.”

“Mark—”

“It’s not happening.” I glance to the side, watching Hunter hold onto his final nerve with both hands. He probably just wants me to get the fuck out already.

Samesies.

When I woke up this morning, I exited their bed before Mark saw me sleeping between them. I texted Jamie, and he told me to come whenever Mark was done yelling.

“Be realistic. I can’t keep sleeping on your couch.” Maybe I should have given him more warning before waking up to all my things by the door, but sometimes with Mark it works best when you rip the bandage off quickly. I am not giving him a chance to talk me out of it.

Maybe this is reckless, but I can’t ignore the logic of it all. Jamie’s house is cheap and close. It’s near town, so I can walk or get a ride that won’t break the bank if I get a job—maybe even at the library. Jamie even mentioned a bus that passes through during the day.

This is happening.

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