Page 89 of Use Me Up

I cry again, cry into Gatlin’s chest, and he misinterprets and apologizes for fucking Hannah, and he doesn’t realize it’s not about that.

Well, maybe it is about that. Sort of. I don’t mean to be territorial about her, but she was mine, and now it feels like she’s not anymore.

I told her to leave, though. I kicked her out of my house, and I shouldn’t have done that.

It’s my fault. I did all of this.

I sob, feeling helpless, hating myself, wishing I could disappear or I don’t know… it’s been a while since I was suicidal, and my suicidal tendencies are not really serious suicidal tendencies. I don’t actually want to be dead or anything. I like imagining how my suicide would affect other people, mostly.

Mostly, I like imagining how much Callie would cry if I was dead.

So, I’d never actually do it, partly because I would never hurt her like that, but also because I would totally hurt her like that, but it would be worthless to do it if I didn’t get to witness how badly I hurt her because I was dead.

I wake up in the middle of the night and Gatlin is wearing more clothes than he was when we went to sleep. He was naked, but now he’s in a t-shirt and boxers, and there’s a pile of his clothes at the bottom of the bed, so I’m pretty sure he got up and got dressed.

Also, it’s just me and Gatlin in bed. Kane’s not there.

If there wasn’t evidence that Gatlin had gotten dressed, maybe I’d just figure Kane went to the bathroom or something and would be back, but instead, I panic. I feel around for Kane in the bond, and the emotion I get back from him is frustration.

Worried, I get up, throw on a pair of boxers, and search for him in the house.

I find him in the kitchen. He is kneeling next to the dishwasher, trying to get the bottom rack to slide back in, and he can’t get it to line up.

So, this was why he was frustrated.

“There’s a little tab you have to flip,” I say, and he starts as he looks up at me, not having noticed me coming in.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just wanted to load the dishwasher for you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with a sink of dirty dishes in the morning when we go.”

When they go.

I must have an emotional reaction to that, because he says, “Shit. That came through the bond real clear.”

I sigh. “It’s better if you go.”

“It is,” says Kane. “For everyone, including you, but that…” He rubs his chest. “Omega.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheekbone about twelve times. “You miss me, huh?”

I laugh, leaning into his broad chest. I’m taller than he is, but he always feels bigger than me. Maybe it’s just some kind of alpha aura or something, but he feels strong in ways that I’m not. I lay my head on his shoulder.

He tangles his hands in my hair. “We miss you, too. You could come home with us.”

I sigh. “I could. I probably should. I’m fucking things up here.”

“Wouldn’t have to be forever. Maybe we could make up a schedule. We could be your deadbeat alphas who have custody of you one weekend a month or something.” He untangles his hands from my curls, fingering them, stroking them.

“Maybe,” I sigh.

“You could spend weeks with us, though. A month. Three months. Whatever you want. We both miss your cooking.”

I sigh again. I miss having people to cook for. Even with Hannah here we’ve just been eating all the stuff I batch-cooked already. I could have made her food. I don’t know why I didn’t. “I’ll just fuck things up with her if I do. You know that’s what I do. I fuck things up.”

His hand strays down my back. He rubs me, up and down my spine. “You’re angry with us, still.”

“No,” I say.

“We didn’t mean to bite you,” Kane says.

“I know this,” I say. “We don’t have to do this again.” How many times have we had this conversation or some variation of it? “It’s not about that.”