Page 26 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

“Cross,” Zeke said quietly.

Cross looked up from the gun, and found his friend was staring him down. “What?”

“You’ve been here a week.”

“And I might be here for another week.” Cross shrugged. “Unless you’ve got something to say about that, I mean.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay here any fucking time you want, man.”

“All right.”

“Except my father said your mother is worried, and Calisto is two seconds away from sending somebody after your ass to take you home. He knows where you are—that’s probably the only reason he hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Probably,” Cross agreed.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

No.

Yes.

Really, Cross didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything.

At the moment, his entire life felt like one big fucking mess. A shit show. Catherine was … gone. That’s what he knew. And with her went a piece of him. A giant chunk of his heart that was supposed to be hers because he was fucking stupid. Like an idiot, he had handed over another piece of himself without even thinking about what that might mean.

He didn’t consider she might hurt him again.

Because love.

Love was bullshit.

Not a lie, no.

It couldn’t be a lie when he felt it. He knew it was real. Every single part of him loved Catherine Marcello. That didn’t mean he had to like it a whole lot right now. It certainly didn’t feel very damn good.

So yeah.

Love was garbage.

“You know,” Zeke said, “you didn’t really tell me what happened. You just showed up, got drunk for three days, smoked up in between, and slept a lot. I mean, today’s the first day you actually got up and did something. And all you did was bitch about my gun and clean it, man. You don’t … talk.”

“Is that what you want, or something?”

“What?”

“To talk about my feelings? Menstruate once a month? Grow vaginas? The way I feel isn’t up for conversation, Zeke.”

His friend just shook his head. “Christ, you are such an asshole sometimes. You know I just want to help, right? That’s it.”

Helping him would be to leave him alone. Or, to be quiet. Helping wouldn’t be asking questions, or making Cross feel like shit all over again. Helping was a lot of things, but it wasn’t anything Zeke was offering at the moment.

Cross didn’t tell his friend any of those things.

Instead, he said, “Catherine broke up with me. I don’t want to talk about it—there’s nothing to say, but I don’t want to be at home right now. I needed to be somewhere else. Here I am.”

Or rather, he couldn’t be home.