Page 41 of Handy

I really,reallywant that.

Chapter 16

GRIFF

The coffee in mymug has been cold for a while now, but that doesn’t stop me from bringing it to my lips reflexively then cringing when I remember that I should just dump it out already. The smell of burnt coffee lingers in the kitchen from the pot I’ve left on, keeping it warm for Ledger. At this point I should just dump that too and make a fresh pot. I don’t want to give him burned, bitter coffee that’s been sitting in the pot since three in the morning when I woke up with my heart pounding all over again and anxious knots in my gut.

Sex wasn’t a cure-all for the psychological terror of standing on the edge of possibilities with Ledger and staring straight into the unknown. Go figure.

I tried to bury my face against the back of his neck, to let the warmth of his skin and steadiness of his slumbering breaths soothe me back to sleep, but having him in my bed was almost too comforting. It was just another glaring reminder of how much I want, how much I could lose all over again, and how much easier it is to just stay numb and distant from everyone.

I groan to myself and rub my hands over my burning eyes.

I should tell him now that I’m sorry I led him on, but it’s not going to work. I’ll finish his living room and then we can just go back to our own lives. He’ll meet someone who isn’t the emotional equivalent of a cactus and he’ll be better off for it. And I’ll go on spending my nights in gut-wrenching aloneness. Sorry, I mean blissful quiet.

I bring the coffee cup to my lips again.

“Dammit,” I mutter, wiping my hand across my mouth and then shoving back from the table. I carry the mug over to the sink and drop it inside without bothering to be careful. I don’t give a shit if one of my generic, monochromatic coffee mugs breaks. I’ll just buy another one and I’ll never know the difference.

That’s another lesson I learned after Riley passed. Everything of his was colorful and unique and full of personality, just like him. But every time something broke or wore out, it was heart wrenching. It felt like losing him all over again. So I slowly replaced it all with shit I’ll never care about. My house could go up in flames today and I wouldn’t be able to tell you a single thing that was inside.

I brace my hands on the sink and grind my teeth.

What am I going to say to Ledger when he wakes up? He’s going to be all sweet and chatty, thinking we had a perfect date last night and that everything is fucking peachy. We did, and it is, except there’s this feeling inside me like something’s clawing to get out. I clench my jaw a little harder at how badly I want to slink back into the bedroom, climb under the sheets, and force a reality where I’m not a fucking mess, one where I can just wake up in bed with a guy I’m kind of fucking crazy about and enjoy the moment with him like he deserves.

I exhale through my nose and shake my head. He’s going to see through me immediately when he wakes up. He’s going to know I’m spiraling. I don’t want to burden him with any of this.

I busy myself making a fresh pot of coffee, glancing at the clock above the stove after every step of the process. He’ll be up soon. He might even be awake now, lying in my bed, wondering if I’m coming back or how long I’ve been gone. By the time I press the button to start the coffee brewing, I’ve made a decision.

I grab a pen and paper out of the junk drawer and scrawl a quick note.

Ledger,

Sorry, I had to get to the jobsite early and didn’t want to wake you. Help yourself to coffee.

I set the note right in the middle of the counter, glance towards the bedroom one more time, then haul ass to put my boots on before he can wake up and catch me. I’m a fucking coward. Is that better than being an accidental dickhead? Maybe I’m both. It kind of feels like I’m both.

I swing the front door open and stop with my foot halfway down, catching myself just as I’m about to step on a white box on the stoop from a place called Stud Muffins. I huff through my nose and pick up the box. Another secret admirer gift? Why? Why would anyone be delusional enough to think I’m worth any of this?

Growling under my breath, I tuck the box under my arm and head for my truck.

There’s only one truck in the parking lot when I pull in this morning. My phone feels heavy in my pocket. Ledger has to be awake by now. Has he tried to call or text? Is he pissed that I did the walk of shame out of my own house, or did he take my note at face value and just assume I actually had to be at work early this morning? Knowing him, it’s probably the latter, and that makes me feel like an even bigger asshole.

I scoop the pastry box off the seat and carry it inside. It’s quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights and the click-clack of someone typing at a keyboard in one of the offices the only sounds. I’m guessing Ev or Ollie, since they’re the only ones who ever seem to bother with the paperwork.

I set my mystery package down on the table next to an empty donut box that must have been from yesterday and the coffee maker that’s already burbling and hissing as it brews its morning magic. I glance at the investigation board Stone set up, and I’m not surprised to see a picture of Ledger front and center. It looks like they printed it from his social media. It’s a selfie of him looking uncharacteristically stern, except even with the furrow in his brow, there’s still a little uptick at the corner of his lips like he’s trying not to smile. He’s wearing his park ranger uniform, so I’m guessing the caption was some kind of message about not starting forest fires or petting bears. Not that he’s likely to take his own advice on the latter. I grunt a laugh to myself.

“Oh, hey, I thought I heard someone come in. You’re here early,” Ollie says.

I can’t tear my eyes off the picture of Ledger, so I just grunt again and nod without looking back at him. I’ve seen the moon eyes he makes at his husband, Daniel. Even if I wanted to explain that I’m freaking the fuck out about this thing with Ledger, Ollie would never understand.

“Did you bring in some morning sugar and carbs for us?” He opens the lid on the box and groans happily. I glance over to see him lift a cupcake out of the box, licking the frosting off of his fingers and making more pseudo-sexual noises over the treat. “You know, if you’re trying to keep up your whole ‘we’re just coworkers, not friends’ schtick, bringing us cupcakes is definitely going in the wrong direction. We’re all going to love you for life now.”

I snort and notice a note stuck to the inside of the box. I’m there in a flash, yanking the slip of paper out to read it.

What do cupcakes and secret admirers have in common? You can lick frosting off both.

Just like the other presents, there’s no name. I huff with frustration, balling up the note and tossing it into the trash while Ollie eyes me.

---