Page 74 of Filthy and the Beast

I look up at the ceiling. “Shit,” I say again. There’s a wet spot, about the size of a basketball.

Damian wraps his arms around my side, leaning his weight against me. “Leaky roof? Does that happen a lot?”

I wrap an arm around his shoulders, hugging him. Not ready to let go yet. Like the other night when he fell asleep on the couch. Stayed there all night with him. Couldn’t move until I crept away at sunrise.

“Hasn’t happened in years.” Sighing, I finally release him to tug on my boxers. I find my phone, too, to take some pictures of the leak while it’s happening. “I need to check it out.” When I turn to head upstairs, Damian follows. He remains naked, which I definitely don’t mind.

We walk by a big vase of light purple flowers. Fucking gorgeous. Work from the class he’s taking. Makes me smile every time I see it.

His skin is flushed, glowing. He looks hot when he’s satisfied.

He’s perfect. And my damn house is falling apart.

“Got the roof fixed just a few years ago,” I grumble as we walk up the stairs. In the corridor on the second floor, a wet spot mars the carpet, plus a bigger one on the ceiling. “Shit,” I repeat a third time.

“It’s only been a few years since you fixed it?” Damian asks. “I know old houses have a lot of problems, but that doesn’t seem good.”

I consider it. “More like ten years.”

“A decade?”

“Twelve years, maybe.” I sigh. “Come on.” Stopping in the hallway closet, I throw him a towel.

Damian pretends to scoff. “Does my nudity offend?”

“We’re going in the attic.” I wrinkle my nose. “Bugs and shit.”

Snickering, he wraps the towel around his waist. “Can’t let the spiders near my delicate parts. Although that’s really a silly phrase for genitals. Nothing delicate about what I’ve been seeing on the late shift. Except for that man with the feathers, I suppose.”

I hit the attic light. Wind whooshes by outside, louder than in the rest of the house. Sure enough, the leak is substantial and steady, and the section of roof appears damaged and rotted.

I pull a big plastic tub from the cobwebs and slide it under the leak. “Fuck this.”

Damian rubs my back. “I don’t know carpentry, but this looks bad.”

“It is. Expensive.” I frown. “Probably can’t fix this myself.”

I turn to take some pictures. Worry sinks in, followed by a heavy dose of inadequacy. Either I make some money fast, or I’m going to have to part ways with even more of my investments.

Bought this giant old house at the top of my game. Thought nothing could ever go wrong. Now I’m giving Damian an up close and personal view of the reality of my life. The whole thing is on the edge of falling apart.

When I stop moving around, Damian walks over and rubs my back again. His hand working a slow circle between my shoulder blades helps me relax.

“That’s what I get for buying a house this old.” Like it's no big deal, I force a chuckle.

“It’s gorgeous.” Damian walks over to the window, rain splattering the glass. I join him, but only to pull him a couple feet back from the storm. “Old houses are romantic.”

“If you say so.”

“Really. Whenever I’m getting back from work late, I think about it. It’s like slipping into a different world, a big cozy hug.”

I look at the water dripping into the plastic tub. “Leaky hug.”

He laughs. “Sometimes, sure.”

Glad he likes it, anyway. I wanted that feeling from the house when I first bought it. There’s a big world out there, but here, things don’t have to move so fast. Plenty of space for silence.

Plenty of space for Damian to fill up, too.

---