Chapter 19

Madden

The first time I see Penn is at work. We do a walk-through of the clients' backyard and make sure they're happy with the work that we've done. One of my favorite parts of the job is seeing the way their eyes light up at how we've transformed a space from usable to livable. In a year or two, once the trees have grown in and matured, it's going to be a perfect place to spend time.

While I might go minimal when it comes to my clothes, I don't believe in that for the gardens I do. I like to give them life, personality, have them be somewhere people want to spend time.

When I have my own place one day, I want it to be like Bertha. Overgrown, full of secrets and possibilities. Somewhere I can relax and have the entire world disappear.

Our clients thank us, and then we leave, stepping out into the street. Just the two of us .

I miss my best friend. I miss him so much it hurts.

All I want to do is swamp him in a hug and apologize for the other night, to find out why he did it and how he's feeling and whether that was his first time with a man and did it mean anything?

The whirlwind of thoughts doesn't make it past my mouth, though, because talking about it draws even more attention to what a shitty friend I am and what a shitty boyfriend he is. Just thinking about that causes pain through my ribs. Whenever I pictured being with him, Penn was the perfect boyfriend.

I glance over and find him already watching me. Penn's gaze is steady, searching, and my guts are a squirmy twist of knots and questions.

"You did an amazing job," he says.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth are about work. Does he think I did an amazing hand job too? Won't know because I won't ask him.

I study his face, hoping to pick his feelings out of his mind. If he at least felt guilty about betraying Lana, I could work with that, but his whole face is relaxed. It's like we've switched places, where I'm the neurotic mess and he's got everything under control.

We reach my truck, and his car is parked right behind it.

"Thanks. You did too."

Penn shrugs. "I only mock up your designs, Madeline."

"And I follow those designs to make sure it works, Penelope."

A relieved smile breaks across his face, and I feel it too. That hope that we can get things back to normal but, at the same time, can I actually move on with everything hanging over my head? Is that his plan? Just pretend like nothing happened and keep being best friends?

That might work, if I didn't have to face Lana at some point .

I won't be able to look her in the face after what I did to her boyfriend, and I definitely won't be able to grow to like her, given what I still want to do to him.

Because now that I've had that first taste, I want Penn more than ever.

I clear my throat. "We should probably talk about Damien's offer."

Penn leans against my driver's-side door. "I'd rather talk about what happened."

"You would?"

"Yeah." His eyebrows pull together, and a flash of hurt crosses his face. Before he can talk, I get in first.

"I'm sorry."

"You what?"

"It wasn't planned, I want you to know that. I respect when you say you're straight, and I have no idea what came over me, but?—"

"I came on to you."

His words echo between us. He did. I know he did. But at the same time, I was prepared to take the brunt of the responsibility if it made things easier on him. I always only want things to be easy for Penn. Even after what he did, I still love him so deeply I don't think I'll ever stop.

His voice drops low, and when he blinks rapidly, I realize it's because his eyes are all wet.

"I'm not straight, Madden."

The confession lingers for longer than it should. I know sexuality is a spectrum. I know things change. Even with that knowledge, it's still so hard to apply it to Penn because I've been drilling the dreaded S-word into my head for as long as I've known him.

I kick the gravel in the gutter. "Oh, yeah? Since when?" I'm not sure why I sound so fucking defensive.

"Very, very recently. "

"Like, since I had your dick in my hand recently?"

His lips hitch up on one side. "That was more or less the deciding factor, yeah. I don't know when it started, but it was only recently that I acknowledged something had changed."

He's telling me everything I've ever wanted to hear from him, and that connection in my soul is trying to trick me into believing that this is right. It's us.

"I don't expect anything from you," he says. "I value our friendship way too much, and I'm sorry I crossed those lines, but I just couldn't … I couldn't …"

The last thing I want is to find out he used me for some experiment, not when it meant so much to me. "I get it," I say, saving him from finding the words. "It happened, it felt great, and now we move on."

He doesn't look much happier about that. "As friends?"

The word fucking hurts, but I refuse to let him know that. I nudge him gently. "As best friends, moron. That's … that's what we are. Right?"

"Always." He steps closer, then hesitates. "Can I hug you?"

I don't bother to answer, just pull him in close, trying to get my longing under control. Whatever he chooses to do with Lana is up to him, but he's made it clear friends is all that he's offering me, and while that hurts like a motherfucker, it's also good in some ways because it means I don't have to bring up the cheating.

I'd like to never fucking think about it again.

"So. Damien." I pull back, trying to be subtle about drying my eyes.

"Yeah …" Penn looks me over. "You were really excited by the idea."

"I was. I am ."

"Then you have to do it."

"But— "

"You have to." His smile is a quick flash. "If it means a lot to you, then it means a lot to me."

At least that's something that will never change. "Our business means a lot to me too."

"I've thought about that. It might be time to hire someone."

That's the last thing I'm expecting him to say. "Really? Can we afford that?"

"We've been doing really well. I've had some more calls this week about quoting on jobs, and we've got a nice chunk of cash tucked away. Given our last six months and what I'm projecting for the next six months, it makes sense."

This is why I partnered with him. He might give himself a hard time and put all the credit for the landscaping on me, but he's sensible, and with everything I set up for the accounts, he's been running them perfectly. "What are you thinking?"

"Let's go get a drink and talk it through."

I follow Penn into the city, and we pull into the parking lot of a bar we like to hit some Friday afternoons. It's only Wednesday, so it's quieter today, and we're able to get a table in a corner off to the side. We both order a beer, and then Penn pulls out his phone and opens the notes.

"I thought we could continue to take on jobs, go to the meetings for them together, plan it out, and hand it off to an employee to actually complete. You can check in on it, I'll run the books … and it frees you up to work with Damien."

"Frees us up."

Penn gets all twitchy and overthinking, which immediately has me on guard.

" Us , right?"

"The thing is … I don't have much to add to this project. You know the lifestyle, you know design, and anyone can punch it into a computer."

Why does this feel like a breakup? It occurs to me I might be taking this too dramatically, but what the fuck? "He asked for both of us. He needs you as well."

"Be real, Madden. He needs you. I was the add-on to get you there."

Ignoring all the weirdness between us, I grab Penn's hand and slide closer to him. "I won't do it without you."

"You'd miss out on this kind of opportunity just because I won't do it too?"

Even I can't figure out why this is so important to me. I'm actually panicking at the thought of going ahead without him, and all my old fears come gushing back. Does he need space? Am I too needy? Is he not as cool about what happened as he's pretending to be?

"I want you there."

"I already have two jobs."

"Then quit the design position. Damien will pay us more than enough that you won't need that job." I haven't even looked at the email yet and I'm sure of it.

"His offer was … generous."

"See?" My hold on him has gotten tighter. "You don't need to work for Dryden anymore."

"Did it occur to you that maybe I want to though?"

No. No, that hadn't occurred to me. Which makes me a shitty friend on top of all of the other stuff. Me wanting him to do this with me doesn't get to take priority over him wanting to keep a job he loves.

The only other option is putting our business on hold, but who the fuck knows what will happen if we try to start it back up in a year?

If .

I hate that word.

Penn squeezes my hand. "I want this for you. You'll love the work and getting to plan it all out. You'll actually use this place, Madden. A lot. "

"And … will you?" When he'd mentioned the introductory area, it had sounded like he was curious. I want more than anything to share this lifestyle with him. For him to understand how free it feels, how much it opens your mind and minimizes all the things people worry about.

Penn withdraws his hand from mine. "I don't think so. Sorry. I tried it, but I think my nudist days are over."

It was the most likely outcome. This lifestyle isn't for everyone. It's hardly for anyone. All I'd wanted was for him to understand, and he'd tried, and I can't ask for more from him than that. Not many best friends would step up like he did.

"We can work on your connectedness another way," I assure him, putting all of my effort into making sure I'm supportive.

"Starting with this beer." He drains his glass, but I hardly touch mine. It tastes like dirt.

Everything does.

For a very brief moment, Penn had given me hope.

It's gone now, which is really fucked-up, considering it's not even his sexuality standing between us anymore. I want to ask him more questions about it, if he's settled on a label, how he got there, but I think the more I understand, the more it's going to break my heart.

I've always told myself that if Penn was gay, he'd love me. That it wasn't his fault we couldn't get together.

That delusion has been shattered now because the excuses have been taken away. He hasn't fallen into my arms. The reason we weren't together wasn't his sexuality; it was, well, me.

Penn doesn't want me.

I don't think that will ever stop hurting.