Locked Heart (Cash Me Outside 1)

“No, no, no, no, no. We aren’t doing this. You can’t be on his side and use logic. He’s divorced … or almost divorced, but that doesn’t negate that he was once in the headspace that he’d found his forever in a superhot enby god…ess. Shit, what’s the nonbinary word for god?” I click my fingers. “Deity. They’re a fucking deity.”

“What are you rambling about?”

I groan. “His ex is beautiful.”

Seb rolls onto his side. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

He nudges me. “You are Cash Kingsley, and you’re intimidated by his non-famous ex? You don’t get intimidated. Ever.”

Seb’s right. I don’t.

“They got a piece of Locke I’ll never have, and I hate them for it. And I hate Locke for moving on. And I hate …” I suck in a sharp breath. “I hate I spent the last ten years without him.”

“Makes total sense why you’re in my bed instead of being with him right now making up for lost time.”

God, I hate Seb makes a point.

“The thing I’m realizing is I’ve always seen myself as his. He was the one that got away. My regret. My heart locked on him, and it never let go. Those feelings might have been buried over the years, but there’s no denying we belong together. I don’t care if it’s been less than a day since we met again. It was there the minute we saw each other—that spark. That forever feeling I’ve never experienced with anyone else.”

Seb shifts and rolls away from me, reaching for the bedside table for some hotel stationery. He throws a pen and paper on my stomach. “Write that shit down, man. There’s our next hit.”

“I don’t want to write. I just want to wallow.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You are.”

“Mature.”

I shove him.

“Fine, if you’re not going to take advantage of your stupidity, I will.” He takes the notepad and starts writing shit down.

“Thank you for exploiting my heartache.”

“Ooh, good line.”

“Fuck, I hate you.”

Seb pats my head. “Sleep off your anger and go talk to him tomorrow when you’re less … emo.”

I flip him off, but he’s right. Maybe I need to sleep on it.

It’s unfair of me to be mad Locke moved on when we’ve had no contact for eight years. Widowers remarry faster than that. But I guess the difference is there’s no chance of their lovers coming back.

Maybe meeting up with Locke again was stupid.

I might not have had any successful relationships in the last ten years, but I’ve been mostly happy.

Hearing him say he was married was like saying goodbye to him all over again. He hollowed out my heart, taking the important part with him.

Faith in us dimmed to a level I never experienced even as a teenager.

I don’t want to lose him this time, but maybe I already have.

Maybe I’m the only one with this intense draw, and he’s in his room right now thinking I’m totally overreacting.

Okay, and I probably am.

I totally am.

I sigh.

Seb climbs off the bed and grabs his acoustic guitar. He plays with melody and lyrics, while I listen to my stupid emotions being put on display.

The song is raw and painful.

I rub at the dull ache in my chest.

Seb’s voice lulls me into sleep, where I dream of a life filled with regret and loneliness.

It’s a familiar feeling, and only one man has ever made me experience it.

I don’t want to go through that again.

My eyes fly open, and I sit up. “What time is it?”

Seb’s asleep next to me, and light streams into the hotel room through the tiny gap in the curtains.

He mumbles something that sounds like “fuck off” and rolls over.

I search for my phone but can’t find it, so I climb over Seb and take his.

He opens his eyes and grumbles. “I got excited until I realized it was you on top of me.”

“Love you too.” His phone says it’s 10:00 a.m. “Shit.” I jump out of bed.

I have to make this right. God, Locke probably hates me. I wouldn’t blame him.

“Come to the conclusion you’re being a dick and need to go apologize yet?” Seb yawns.

“I hate that you know me so well.” I head for the bathroom.

“Trust me, so do I,” Seb calls after me.

I spin on my heel to face him. “Did you finish the song?”

“Yep.”

“Come teach it to me while I shower. We’re gonna need it for all the groveling.”

“Maybe we should have a talk about boundaries.”

I wave him off. “You’ve seen my dick a billion times. I saw yours just last night.”

“And what do you think Locke will think about us seeing each other naked and sharing a bed? You were freaking out about him marrying someone else, but I have some sad news for you: you and I are practically a married couple. Minus the sex.”

“We are not,” I say but suddenly gain new perspective.