Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

18.Changed

We were not fine.

My nights grew cold and lonely. Four days since the funeral and Jack had yet to come home.

Come on, Jack. At least once, if only to say, 'Hey, you son of a bitch! Why'd you have to make a show at Bill's funeral? Who do you think you are?'

I would have taken that reproach and any insult he'd have thrown at me over this fucking silence.

It was almost 8 p.m., a Saturday. The city lights glimmered before me. I was freezing on the terrace, having the last cigarette in my pack.

I'll need to go out and buy some later.

My phone burned hot. I stared at those texts incessantly swiping up and down.

'I'm sorry about the funeral thing.'

'Are you OK?'

'When are you coming home?'

'If you're this upset then come here and yell at me, asshole!!!'

"What do you think, Fred? Is this ridiculous or what?" I spoke to the dwarf pine beside me.

"Even Sands said it. I don't belong in 'the family'." My eyes closed. "Motherfucker," I growled in frustration as my temper surged.

"So what am I doing?"

I glared at the tree. It was as silent as my phone.

"Fuck you, Fred."

***

My feet strolled along wet dark streets. Crowds passing by exuded youth and self-indulgence.

I found the convenience store. That first night, Jack had bought me sweets and toiletries from this place. A lifetime ago.

Ding! Text from Ginny: 'Meet us at Barney's! Let's get drunk, mister!'

'Not tonight.'

Two packs of cigs should be enough I figured.

My feet took me around the block twice before I stopped at a bench.

This is stupid, Jack. Talk to me.

I dialed his number. Panicked little voices stirred inside my head and the thumping of my heart was deafening. But I was tired and lonely.

If he's going to throw me away I'd rather it be done now, than go on living in purgatory.

"The number you're calling is not reach-" Tap. Hah! It took me four days to work up the courage to call Jack and his phone's turned off.

Again.

"The number you're calling is-" Tap.

Fuck you, Jack.

Sat on the bench, I lit up a cigarette. It was toxic and unpleasant. Maybe I should quit.

I pictured Jack coming home in my absence. He'd wonder where I was. He'd get jealous and drown that anger in his games. By the time I'd get home, Jack would be furious and so fucking horny.

Clothes would fly. I'd apologize for... for everything. The funeral. My temper. My smoking habit. My stupid fears.

And he'd tell me it was all right. I could be a crazy son of a bitch. I could stay by his side. I belonged to him.

"Steve, fucking dweeb." Donnie's gruff voice shattered my fantasies.

I looked up.

A blue spot marked his jaw. That was my doing. But the red-green eye circle was new.