Page 30 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

“She needs a nice guy with a firm head on his shoulders who will treat her like the queen she is and give her his world.”

“And you can’t be that?”

I shake my head. “No.”

And I can’t tell Cade or her why not. And I would never be able to keep it from her if we were in a relationship that was more than friendship. I couldn’t hide HRD4U or pretend I’m something I’m not.

“So, I think you need to make a decision. You either go for it, or you let her go. Shit or get off the pot, mate. Or you’re going to drive yourself insane.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “I know. I need to start being a better friend and forgetting that I want more.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I need some time to figure it out, so I don’t inadvertently say something that will send her running scared and push her further away than she already is right now.

I’ve created my own worst nightmare—a life without her in it.

And I need to figure out a way to fix it.

Maybe that starts with clearing my head about some other things…

8

FLYNN

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…gosh…ten years since my last confession.”

When I was a senior in high school and the nuns made us go weekly. Which means I have a decade worth of sins to get off my chest. But it’s really only two that are weighing on me enough to get me up and out of bed early to make it here before going into work after days of not sleeping since the fight with Rach. Only two that kept me up all night after Cade finally left. Only two that brought me to face my fear of God’s wrath.

“And what brings you here today, my son?”

Shit.

Mom. Rachel.

The woman who commented on my feed the other night about what a great guy I seemed like and asking where she could find a guy like me.

It’s left me wondering…

Am I really a great guy?

Doing this?

Snapping at Rachel like that?

If “great guys” did things like I do as HRD4U, I wouldn’t feel so guilty or be so afraid of Mom or Rachel finding out. People always say only God can judge you, but the risk of being judged by the women in my life is truly what worries me the most.

I couldn’t even be concerned about the punks who slashed my tires last night because Rach’s face wouldn’t leave my damn head. My car means nothing compared to losing her.

I release a deep sigh that fills the tiny confines of the confessional booth. “Well, Father. I’ve been dealing with some feelings of guilt lately about some things I’ve been doing.”

“I see, my son. Guilt is often the way our conscience tells us we should not be doing something. What is it you’ve been doing to cause such negative feelings and disquiet in your heart?”

Disquiet in my heart.

Those words resonate through me and settle deep in my chest, in the very place the priest so wisely referenced. I never thought about it in those terms, but disquiet in my heart is the perfect description for what I’ve been feeling lately.

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