Page 12 of Save Me

CHAPTER SEVEN

I should block my mom.

I stare down at her text, seriously considering it. She always gets worse around the anniversary of Dad’s death, and by getting worse, I mean she always tells me she’s very ill and needs my help. Every year it’s something. This year, it’s her knee. Last year, it was her scoliosis. The year before that, something about her stomach. I’m thinking about doing pin the tail on the donkey, but on her, and seeing if I can accurately predict what next year’s problem will be.

Yes, I know, I’m so compassionate. That’s the thing, though. I am. Just not when it comes to her. Because when she doesn’t get the attention she wants, she makes a miraculous recovery. And like, we all want love, Mom, but do you really have to get yours through lies and manipulation?

Now she wants me to come over for her birthday barbecue. Her profile picture smiles up at me, and I see myself in her face, with the same nose and eyes, same pale skin. I grind my teeth. I need more tattoos.

Nope, I’m not going to respond. I won’t let her ruin tonight. Because tonight, I get to see Maddox again.

The thought makes my stomach jump and my heart race. Maddox, Mads, Maddie, Mad Hatter. I shouldn’t have creeped on his last name, but it was kinda attached when I went to pay him. Maddox McAllister. I definitely shouldn't have creeped on his social media after that, but…I’m only human. I justify it by saying he’ll be in my house with Princess, even though I know the pet sitter app runs a background check. He’s not convicted of anything…except capturing my attention with those tormented eyes.

Maddox McAllister is hot. Undeniably hot, even in his social media pictures where he’s caught off guard. But even more than that, he’s fascinating, and he’s a home health aide, so he helps people.

Even hotter.

For a second, I’m caught up in the idea of those strong hands on me, evaluating me for injuries, then there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” I dart to my feet, racing Princess to the door, and as soon as the door opens, I’m reminded how big Maddox is. He fixes me with those green eyes, and for a second, I’m caught in them, unable to look away.

Maddox looks down and darts down to grab Princess, who’s trying to leave.

I snap out of it.

“Princess Cupcake Sprinkles!” I scold as he struggles to escape Maddox’s big hands. Maddox is gentle when he lets him back down inside.

Hot. Burning hot. Melting.

Holy moley, I need to get it together.

Instead of getting it together, I launch into a nervous explanation of where everything is, including Princess’ stroller. Which is dumb, given the sun is going down. But once I start talking, I have a hard time stopping. If I don’t stop, maybe he won’t focus on how weird I’m being.

I talk myself all the way into giving him a house key, talk him into thinking Princess would love a walk, then talk myself into the car. Then, I shut the car door and peel away because what the heck?

I made a fool of myself. My cheeks are burning, so I crank the music up so loud that I can’t think all the way to the shop. When I get there, Logan is already working on a tattoo, and I start talking with him. He seems extra quiet tonight, so when my client comes in, I start talking to her. I talk and talk and talk. About what, I don’t know or remember. All I can think about is Maddox McAllister and why he’s so gentle with animals and what gives him that closed-off look. I think about the ultimate yucky thought–what if Maddox is already dating someone? And the even more ultimate yucky thought–what if he’s straight?

Surely not. The man has twink-taming hands if I’ve ever seen them.

I finish my tattoo on autopilot, and as I do, Dakota, Logan’s other boyfriend, who I think is a cop of some sort, comes in with dinner and a pink, flowy shirt. Prettiest cop I’ve ever seen.

He offers me some food, and I’m stuck staring at it, paralyzed.

I’m done with my work. I should go home, but I can’t. What if I go home and he hates me? Decides I’m too much? This is absolutely too much, given he’s my pet sitter.

“Who’s the fag?”

I blink. What the heck? Glancing up, I see Logan looking at his client with a dark look.

“What did you just say?”

”It’s-s-s-s okay, L-l-ogan,” Dakota says.

Familiar helplessness that’s been simmering since I was a teenager flares to life. What is actually happening? Can we not exist peacefully together? Is that too much to freaking ask?

But before I can do anything, Logan snatches the client up by the shirt and hauls him over his head like he weighs nothing.

Dakota is right by his side, hissing, “Right here?” He throws a look at me.