Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Salem leaned against the counter and felt like crying. He didn’t have the energy to think of what else to eat. It was too complicated of a question. He didn’t even have food in the house. Just ingredients to make food, and that wasn’t the same thing at all.
From the exterior hallway, he heard footsteps—a very familiar heavy tread—and he knew who it was before the man even arrived.
“Why’s the door open?” Gregori questioned. He stripped off his shirt the second he came in, throwing it in the general direction of the laundry cubby, nose flaring as he sniffed. He had his hair in a braid today. He should braid it more often, he looked great with his hair pulled back. “And what’s that smell? It’s like burning metal.”
Salem focused on him and all those lovely muscles. He never got tired of looking at the muscles. “You only wore a shirt today?”
“Yeah, weather was nice.”
The weather had not been nice. It had been above freezing. Then again, for an ice dragon, today was probably balmy.
“You’re fine shirtless,” Salem murmured.
“I know,” Gregori replied, tone rich with amusement. He came in closer, nose still working. “Uh, is the burner on?”
Oh. Right, Salem had turned it on for ramen. But there was no ramen. And he’d forgotten to put water in the pot. Oops.
He moved, fetching the pot off the stove and then putting it in the sink.
“Ack!” Gregori swooped in and snatched the pot up. “What are you doing, there’s plastic Tupperware in there—ugh, it’s now ruined.”
Oh shit. Salem took the pot away from him and set it on the counter so he could survey the damage.
Gregori quickly sidestepped around him, snatching the pot up again. “Don’t put it down on the butcher block, it’s still hot!”
He watched as Gregori put the pot under the water, cooling it off, and felt like a failure all over again. Fuuuuuck, this always happened when he got so tired. He just made one stupid mistake after another. It always made people upset with him. For the matter, Salem got upset with himself as well, but he unfortunately lived with himself, too.
Gregori put the pan back down, then crab-stepped to the side to turn off the burner.
Aw shit, Salem should have turned it off. He’d forgotten about it completely.
Only then did Gregori look down at him, confused, his brows drawn down together in an unhappy line.
“It’s okay.” Salem sighed, already turning for the couch. Fuck it, he’d just sleep and scrounge in the kitchen after he took a nap and could function better. “You can leave. I understand.”
“You think I want to leave?”
“Everyone does by this point.” Salem flopped onto the couch—an inelegant sprawl that had nothing to do with dignity. Between talking to Alexis earlier and being reminded of the last ex-boyfriend who had gone off the rails because of stupid shit Salem had done, and now this? When he’d again done something stupid? He honestly felt like crying. Even he wasn’t sure why because there was too much to cry about. “It’s why I don’t do relationships anymore.”
Gregori came in closer, kneeling at his feet and looking up at him. For some reason, he didn’t appear mad. Which made no fucking sense to Salem.
“What happened with previous people?”
Why the fuck was he asking questions? Why wasn’t he just leaving like everyone else had? Salem was an asshole. He’d been an asshole since Gregori had met him, he’d denied they were mates to the man’s face even when he knew those words hurt Gregori, and he’d just shown the man what kind of walking disaster he was when dead tired. Shouldn’t Gregori, even with his vast store of patience, have gotten fed up by now?
Salem thought about not answering, but when he was this tired, he had no filter, so words started pouring out of his mouth.
“They left. I told you. I’m an asshole even on good days, although honestly, I try not to be, but the asshole just slips out. And after dating me for a while—generally takes three weeks—I’ll have a day like today. Where I’m super tired and I can’t focus, and I make one stupid mistake after the next, and they get mad. One boyfriend accused me of weaponized incompetence. Which isn’t true. I do my best at everything. Except dishes because I hate doing dishes—”
Gregori snorted at this for some reason, like it was funny.
“—and really, who likes doing dishes? Are there people who do? And can I hire them? I will pay them a stupid amount of money to do my dishes.”
“It’s okay, I’ll do your dishes.”
“You will?” Salem smiled, relieved. Then frowned again. “But that means you’re staying. You want to stay?”
“I do.”
“You make no damn sense, you know that, right? Being mates can’t be the only reason for you to put up with me like this. You’re literally the first who wasn’t family. You’re very strange if you want to stay. I do not understand you.”