Only You by Jerry Cole (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

enough for Nick. He nodded his head in understanding, a small moment of shared silence. But then Nick drummed his fingers on the table and pushed himself back up to standing. “So, what are we doing then?” He was back to his usual eager self.

“Huh?” Sherman balked. “What do you – I'm not going out. There’s no way you’re getting me to —”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Nick pulled his phone out. “They can come here – kidding,” he hurried when he looked up from his phone and saw Sherman’s eyes widen in panic. “I meant, what food we getting? I’ll order.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.” Nick reached out and gave Sherman’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re my best bud, and you’re hurting. Although I was never much into this mushy stuff – fuck, I don’t think I’ve cried once since I was maybe twelve. You are into it. And right now, as much as it pains me to say it. You don’t need to get laid. You just need a friend.” A big, goofy smile.

If Sherman wasn’t so damn dehydrated from days of crying – not to mention the fact that he had barely drunk a drop of water all day – he might have burst into tears right there. Again, Nick had managed to surprise him.

“Whatever you’re in the mood for,” he eventually managed.

“Ah!” Nick looked eagerly at his phone. “Pizza it is then – there’s this new place down the road I saw. Angry Tony’s, and their Meat Lover’s pizza is – get this. It’s called ‘Please to Meat You!’ How good is that?!” Nick’s body vibrated from withheld laughter as he proceeded to order the pizza.

Sherman didn’t try and stop him. Truthfully, he was just glad to have a friend here for support. He had become so damn reliant on Bradley over the past few months that he’d completely forgotten what it was like to have friends like this.

The pizza arrived thirty minutes later and the rest of the afternoon was spent by the two friends sitting on the couch, watching Netflix while they ate and said little. It was exactly what Sherman needed.

When it got late, Nick eventually called it. The sounds that emitted from his body were tremendous as he heaved himself from the couch and then lumbered toward the door; it was akin to an aged oak tree suddenly coming alive and moving for the first time.

At the door, he paused and looked Sherman over with a sense of reserved pity and worry. “You going to be all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” For a moment too, Sherman actually believed it.

“Not going to call him?”

“He has my number.”

Nick sighed. “Fair. Well... if you need anything...”

“You’ll be the last person I call.”

To this, Nick rolled his eyes. But then he reached out and gave Sherman’s shoulder another squeeze before offering a peace sign and then heading off down the hallway.

Sherman watched him go for a moment, smiling to himself. Actually smiling. It was something he’d done a couple of times since Nick had arrived, and it still felt wrong. It was like he didn’t deserve to smile. Yet here he was, flaunting it. Maybe things weren’t going to be so bad after all? Maybe he would get through this...

But then the door swung closed, Sherman spun around and the emptiness of his apartment settled over him again like a cold, wet blanket. With Nick there to distract him, things had been all right. But now that he was alone again...

He wanted to call Bradley. Fuck, he wanted to! But he was also too stubborn and was now convinced it had to be Bradley who called to apologize and not him. It had seemed like a good idea when he first came up with it. And with Nick there, it even dared to feel like a great idea. But now? Well, Sherman wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out much longer...

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bradley had been home for just over seven days now and already he was starting to fall into a routine of sorts. It was one that allowed for him to keep his mind off Sherman, so as to avoid descending into a deep depression like he would have were he left to his own devices. Keeping busy it seemed was the best way to stop himself from doing something he might regret.

The good that he took from this routine was that it served to highlight how far he had come since moving out of home all those months ago. Had he not changed, then his routine would have been much like it had when he still lived at home. It would have involved a lot of sleeping, barely leaving his room, only using his phone to try and score dates, and then badgering his mother to hurry up and make dinner already so he could eat, go out and then maybe pick-up. It had been a simple yet unfulfilling life.

Now however, things had changed so much that Bradley was barely able to recognize himself. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he was only home as a means to distract himself and keep his deep-seated depression at bay, then he might have even been proud of himself for the way he was behaving.

Instead, he tried to find a middle ground. Where he was still upset beyond measure – he made sure to always have his phone on him, fully charged and with full reception, just in case – he was also still able to appreciate the small improvements he’d made in regard to his own life. Maybe he really was growing?

Another sign of this personal growth, an unmistakable one, was how much time he was spending with his mother. As much as he loved her, seven days in and he was starting to think it had crossed a line.

“Aisle