Page 10 of Kept By the Loan Shark

“Well. Shit. That sucks.” With a shrug, Kyle said, “Listen, if push comes to shove and you can’t afford it, I’ve got an empty bedroom right across the hall.”

“I can’t push you out of your office.” It was the easiest way to turn down his offer without looking rude. Even though we were friends, I wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a living space with him. Not to mention, Hagen would lose his shit if I moved in with another man.

“I can shift it. No problem,” he added with a smile. “Anything I can do to help, I will.”

Not for the first time, I suspected Kyle had more than just friendly feelings for me. I hadn’t done anything to encourage him to think we would ever be anything more than friends, and I was open about how much I loved Hagen and how happy he made me. Even so, it seemed as if Kyle may have been harboring hopes.

Before I could try to make things clear, Hagen returned, his footsteps heavy as he walked toward the kitchen. His gaze darted from Kyle to me, lingering on the short distance between us, and his eyes narrowed briefly. I rolled my eyes at his obvious flare of jealousy.

“Think about it,” Kyle said before patting my shoulder and leaving my apartment.

After the door closed, Hagen asked, “Think about what?”

“Moving in with him.”

“Like fucking hell,” Hagen growled. “If you’re moving anywhere, it’s in with me. Which I’ve been asking you to do for weeks,” he reminded me with a pointed look. “Why would you need to move in with Kyle anyway?”

“Apparently, my rent is going up,” I said, reaching for my mail. As I opened the envelope, I asked, “Did you punch Travis?”

He frowned down at me. “No.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“A little,” he admitted, moving closer to me. His big hand cupped my face, and he brushed his thumb over my cheek. “He’s buying new laundry baskets, and he’s not going to bother you anymore about Ronnie’s bullshit.”

“Please tell me you did not just pay more of my brother’s debts. You have already done too much.”

“I didn’t pay that lowlife anything. After all the work I’ve done to keep my earnings and my business clean, I’m not about to risk it by handing money over to someone like that meth head. I have a pretty good idea where he gets his product and where he was taking Ronnie to gamble. I’m not putting my money anywhere near that.”

“Good.” Glad that he hadn’t extended himself even more for my brother, I pulled the notice out of the envelope and scanned it. I grimaced at the new amount due on the first of the next month. “Shit.”

Hagen moved behind me so he could read the letter. “You are not paying that much for this place.”

“I don’t have that much to pay for it,” I admitted, feeling embarrassed by just how tight my budget was these days. With all the fees for my GRE prep courses, the exam, the fees for submitting applications to different schools—I was tapped out.

“Cassie,” Hagen said tenderly, his hands settling on my waist as he bent down to nuzzle my neck, “move in with me. This place is a nightmare, and you have so much stress in your life. Let me take some of that stress away for you. Come live with me. Save your money for grad school.”

For weeks, I had been fighting against my desire to be closer to him, to share his living space and merge our lives. It came from a place of pride and fear. There was always the what-if in the back of my mind. What if we realized we weren’t compatible? What if our hopes and dreams for the future didn’t mesh? What if he stopped loving me? Where would I go then? A hotel? My car? A friend’s couch?

Turning in his arms, I gazed up at him and all of those worries fled. “Okay.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I rose on tiptoes, signaling I wanted a kiss, and he happily met me more than halfway.

Like a little kid on Christmas morning, he vibrated with excitement. “Let’s get you packed.”

“Right now?” I laughed. “We don’t have any boxes.”

“Right,” he said, abashed. “Pack a suitcase. We’ll take your laundry with us. We can figure out the logistics of your move later.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed, filled with a sudden rush of relief and happiness. After another kiss, both of us smiling like fools, I hurried to my bedroom closet and grabbed my suitcase. It didn’t take long to pack for a few days. When I came back to the kitchen, Hagen stood over my sink, wringing out my wet clothing. The muscles in his arms rippled with his twisting movements, and I was struck by how incredibly powerful he was. It wasn’t hard to imagine how easily he could use those hands of his to hurt someone. Yet, when his hands were on me, they were always gentle and loving.

“You enjoying your front row seat to the gun show?” he asked with a playful smirk.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I’ve seen better.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, wringing out the last pair of jeans. “Not from that pencil-dicked creep across the hall.”

---