Loyal Lennox

Welcome to my book! Below, you will find the blurb for this book, some information about my books in general, tropes and trigger warnings. Feel free to skip whatever part you want if you’re afraid of spoilers! After the trigger warnings, the first chapter immediately starts.

BLURB:

Lennox

I cry myself to sleep almost every night, I have a 18-year-old sister who seems to think college is meant to be a non-stop alcohol-fueled party, and my endometriosis is ruining my whole fucking life. Oh, and did I mention that I have no dating life, definitely no sex life, all my friends are annoyingly loved-up, and my roommate fucks her many lovers so loudly that I barely get any sleep at night?

No, I don’t like my life all that much at the moment. From the outside looking in, I think people will assume I am a success story. I’m almost 27, I’m getting my master’s degree in a month, and I am succeeding at life even though my childhood could have turned me into a failure. A teenage mother, a biological father in jail, and a recovering alcoholic as my stepfather.

When I stay at my parents’ place one night to take care of their sick cat, I definitely didn’t expect to end up at the vet in the middle of the night, in my pajamas. Nor did I expect the vet to be stoic, rude and annoyingly sexy. He’s not my type in the slightest, and I’m not looking for a relationship anyway. There is no way in hell a couple of sparks between us will lead to anything. I’m an ice queen. Sparks can’t possibly turn into a fire when I am near. They die a fast yet horrible death.

Alex

Relationships and me? Not a great combination. In general, people and I aren’t a good match. I prefer animals above humans any time, any day. They don’t judge, they love you unconditionally, and everything is clear: you’re the human taking care of the animal. They pay you with their company. If you take care of them well, you gain their affection. Humans aren’t that easy, trust me on that. Aside from one colleague and one close friend who I let into my personal life, I’m all alone, and I prefer it that way. I’m not lonely, I swear. Just alone. There’s a difference.

I could have more people who care about me in my life, if I wanted to. My parents’ dearest wish is for me to move back to my hometown, step back into the role of son, brother, and uncle. Mom wants me to take over her veterinary clinic, but that would mean being around my father way more than I’m comfortable with. Everyone thinks he’s such a great guy, but they’re wrong. No one knows the shit I know about him. He’s not a good father, and definitely not a good husband to my mother.

Still, they’re my parents. So when Mom asks me to run her clinic for a while, I can’t say no. Not when she literally has no other option. I even agree to stay at their house so I’m close to work. One night, a whirlwind of a woman storms into my life. Short, emotional, and bossy as hell. Not my type at all. She’s nothing like any of my exes, she’s only 27 to my 38, and she’s just so bossy. So fucking bossy and nosy and dramatic. She challenges me, and all my life, I’ve shied away from challenges. Lennox is a challenge I am not willing to take. It’s never going to happen.

Information about the series:

Most of my books are part of the “Sweet Caroline Universe”. This book isn’t the first book in the series. The first book is “Sweet Caroline”, but you can read the books in any order you want and skip books that aren’t your cup of tea. This book is part of the second generation of the “Sweet Caroline Universe”, so it’s about one of the kids of the characters from the first nine books.

All books can be read as a stand-alone, since every single book has a different MC (main character), for example the best friend or sister of an MC from another book.

If you’re looking for a sexy romantic stand-alone, this is the book for you! If you’re looking for an epic romance series, then this is also the book for you! For more information about my books, check out “GUIDE TO BOOKS BY GODDESS HEDONE” right here on Inkitt.

Tropes: age gap (man 38, woman 27), he falls first, mental health struggles, grumpy and grumpy (no sunshine to be found)

Trigger warnings:

This story contains lots of (very graphic) sex and profanities (‘fuck’ is my favorite word). This book also contains scenes that may depict, mention, or discuss: low self-esteem, addiction (not the MCs) estranged family, and mental health struggles. (Will add to this while writing, it won’t be a dark book).

For my loyal readers: I am back, bitches! Putting Married Ladies on hold & going to write the shit out of Lennox & Alex’ love story. Can’t wait to dive into this one!

***

#1 Full-on liquid cat diarrhea

Lennox’ POV

When the front door slams shut behind my younger sister Raven, I try to push down the panic I feel every single time she goes out. The therapist in me tries to reason with the knot in my stomach: Just because Dad is an alcoholic doesn’t Raven will turn into one. Your trauma about Dad’s time in rehab isn’t her trauma. Your abandonment issues aren’t her issues. Don’t make your problems her problems.

Still, I am allowed to be annoyed that she’s taking off to spend time with friends when we were supposed to have a sister bonding weekend, right? Mom and Dad are on vacation, which is a very rare occurrence for them, so when their cat got sick, of course I immediately agreed to spend this week in my childhood home and take care of Whiskey The Second. Yeah, that’s his name. Raven gave him that name, because she got to pick out a new pet at the animal shelter after the cat I got when I was four died. Whiskey was 18 years old, and he lived a long and healthy life, but it was still hard for me. Imagine my shock when my sister picked out a new cat and literally gave him the same name. My Whiskey was basically my support system, there for me through all the highs and lows, so I can’t call any other pet by that same name. I ignore that his name is Whiskey The Second, and call him Junior.

Raven was supposed to take care of Junior with me. Sisters bonding and all that. She and I haven’t had the best or easiest relationship these past years, mostly because she started drinking and partying when she was barely a teenager. I think she was 11 when I first discovered she had a beer with a couple of friends. Lately, I’ve been making an effort to get closer to Raven again, but it’s been a struggle. Every single time I watch her take a sip of wine, or I smell weed on her, or she makes plans to go clubbing, I feel like a little part of me dies. Why doesn’t she get that with our father being a recovering alcoholic, she needs to be more careful than most 18-year-olds?

It’s not just the fact that she’s going out to drink that bugs me. I asked her to come here this week not because I needed her to take care of Junior, but because I wanted to bond with her. Watch old movies together, reminisce about our childhood, listen to her talk about college, basic stuff like that. Be sisters. Instead, she’d rather go out with friends and come stumbling back in tomorrow morning reeking of alcohol, smoke and bad decisions. She’d rather drink liquor and smoke fucking cancer sticks than hang out with me.

No, Lennox, she’s just an 18-year-old college student. Lots of your friends used to drink a lot and still do at times, yet you never worry about them becoming alcoholic. Your cousin Luke was as wild as they come before he got domesticated by his wives, and never once did you think he was an alcoholic or a sex addict. Your trauma isn’t Raven’s trauma. She was just a kid when Dad went to rehab. Dad’s doing fine. Even if Raven gets addicted like him, you know from experience addiction can be fought and overcome. She’ll be okay. She doesn’t hate you, she’s not an addict and she’s not choosing alcohol over her family. She’s just an 18-year-old dumb fuck, like they all are.

I softly stroke Junior’s fur, hating that he’s not purring. He’s usually such a little cuddly ball of black fur, but tonight he’s a miserable heap of bones and fur, wanting nothing except to lie on the couch next to me, for me to stroke him until he hisses to leave him alone, and then whine to be touched again. He hasn’t eaten properly in days, and he throws up occasionally. Mom and Dad took him to the veterinary clinic their neighbors own, and they were told to come back if things get worse, so I guess Junior will be okay if he didn’t need medication right away.

My phone chimes, and I smile when the screen lights up with a picture of my cousin Luke’s daughter Avery. He turned into such a softy the second she was born. She’ll be two years old next month, but she looks younger than she is. She doesn't talk as much as most kids that age do, but she takes in the world with her big all-seeing eyes, and you can tell that she’s smart. She must take after her moms, that one. Luke is a good guy, but there’s a reason I used to call him Dumb Nuts. He used to think with the head between his legs instead of the one on his shoulders. He still does sometimes.

I’m about to reply to Luke’s text to tell him his kid is cuter than he is, when Junior starts to retch beside me. He’s on a large towel, so I’m not too scared about him getting the couch dirty or anything, but I still toss my phone aside and get on my knees on the floor so I’m on his level. I grab a paper towel to put in front of him, hoping he won’t vomit too much. Only a little bit of horrible-smelling fluid comes out of his mouth, easily taken care of with the paper towel. The poor little thing.

Then, suddenly, right when I’m getting up to grab him some water like I do every time he throws up, Junior makes a pained wailing sound, and then…

He shits all over the couch.

Full-on liquid cat diarrhea, soaking the towel and probably also the couch cushions below. He’s shaking and his eyes are closed, like he’s ready to give up and just lie there in his own feces.

My heart clenches, and I know I need to do something. Mom and Dad said that I should take him straight to the vet if things got worse, and to look out for dehydration. Well, this is definitely not helping him stay hydrated.

Since the poor thing is so dirty I can’t take him anywhere like this, I wrap him in the foul-smelling towel and carry him to the bathroom, where I use the softest setting of the shower head to wash him off. I towel him dry as carefully as I can, only for him to throw up again and more diarrhea to leak out. Once more, I clean him off, trying not to panic. This can’t be good. I’ve never seen him like this. The only time I’ve ever seen a cat this sick and unable to clean himself was when Whiskey was dying.

I wrap a clean towel around Junior, whispering to the poor shaking thing that he’ll be alright, and I keep him on my lap while I put on my shoes. I’m in my sleepwear – black leggings and a wide red sleep shirt that I stole from my mother’s closet – but I don’t have time to change right now. At least I’m wearing a bra underneath. I’ve known the vet and her husband since I was a little kid, so who the fuck cares what I’m wearing anyway? I doubt two people who are around 70 years old will be interested in the clothes I have on, or my bra showing through my shirt.

I rush over the grounds of my childhood home, half-expecting to run into one of my aunts or uncles, who all still live on the large property. I grew up on a family compound with my cousins all growing up alongside me, so this place will always feel like home, even though I moved out many years ago to get some distance from Raven and my father. Not because I stopped loving them, but because I loved both them and myself too much to keep arguing with them.

My trauma isn’t their trauma. Dad isn’t going to start drinking again, and Raven won’t turn into an alcoholic. Everything’s okay, Lennox. Don’t think about that right now. Just take care of Junior.

I have to cut through a small part of the woods to get to the clinic, which I do in record time, but then I realize that since it’s almost midnight, the clinic is obviously closed. Guess I’ll have to go to their house. I hope they’re still awake or at least won’t mind that I’m waking them up.

Junior threw up on the towel again, and I’m seriously panicking by now, so I ring the doorbell three times right away. No answer. I knock – more like smack and kick – on the door, wishing they would hurry up already. No answer. I lean on the doorbell, letting it ring again and again until finally, a light flicks on inside, and a deep voice yells: “I’m coming! Stop ringing the doorbell!”

I do as I’m told, impatiently hopping from one foot to the other, trying to shush Junior like he’s a little baby I’m rocking before bedtime. He needs to be okay. I can’t be responsible for killing Raven’s cat tonight. I can’t have Mom and Dad coming back from vacation to discover I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I can’t lose Junior tonight.

The door swings open, and obviously I expect that I’ll be faced with either Tracy - the owner of the vet clinic - or her husband Thomas. No such luck. Instead, a man I don’t recognize is staring at me. His hair is standing up in weird directions, he’s only got pants on – dress pants, mind you, which seems like a very weird choice – and socks for some reason, but no shirt. Who puts on pants and socks but no shirt when he’s opening the door?

“Junior is sick,” I say, pushing past him into the house. “Who are you? Is Tracy home? I need someone to look at Junior and make sure he’s not going to die on me.”

“You can’t just walk into someone’s house without being invited in,” the man barks at me. He slams shut the door and follows me anyway.

I put Junior on the dining table, unfolding the towel. “Is there anyone here who can help? Who are you? Where’s Tracy?”

“My mother is traveling the world with my father at the moment,” the man says in his gruff voice. “I think they’re in India right now. I can look at Junior, though. I’m a vet.”

My panic eases a little. “Oh, thank God. Are you any good? I need the best for Junior, not just any old hack.”

I’m always blunt, but I tend to get extra rude and direct when I’m panicking.

“I’ve got an excellent track record, and I can give you over a hundred references if you need them.” He doesn’t even seem to be sarcastic. He’s actually answering my question. “I work at a clinic in a different town, but I’m running Mom’s clinic while she’s gone. You can trust me with Junior. Now tell me what’s wrong while I get some gloves.”

It takes me a second to find my voice again, watching the man grab some latex gloves from the kitchen cupboard. He watches his hands, dries them off, and then gloves himself like he’s going into surgery or something. Despite being shirtless, he gives off major Grey’s Anatomy vibes right now.

“Erm… he’s been vomiting the past couple of days. Mom and Dad said that they saw the vet-”

“Yes, I know Junior,” he interrupts me. “I recognize him now. I didn’t realize it was him right away, because I thought his name was Whiskey The Second. I told your parents to come back if things got worse. You did well… lady.”

I almost laugh at him awkwardly calling me lady while he starts examining Junior. “I’m Lennox. Lennox Davis.”

He doesn’t say his own name, he simply keeps examining Junior in a very professional manner. His voice is soothing while he asks me questions about the poor little furball, and I start to believe that he truly is excellent with many great references.

“No, he hasn’t thrown up blood,” I respond to one of the man’s questions. “He did have diarrhea.” I keep talking about the night I’ve had, and how poorly Junior is doing.

“You did the right thing bringing him here,” he says calmly. “I don’t think he’s in any immediate danger. I can’t know for sure yet, I’ll need to do some tests for a proper diagnosis, but I’d rather wait for the morning when my vet tech is in, and Junior has had some sleep. I think he should be alright for the night. I have anti-nausea medication for him in the house, since my mom keeps some meds here for her many pets. That’s all he needs for tonight. We can wait till morning to do some thorough tests.”

Is he kidding me?

“I’m not taking him home!” I’m raising my voice, and I don’t even care. “You should keep him for observation or something!”

The man straightens up, and his light blue eyes meet mine, spewing fire at me. “Did I say that I was sending him home with you? I don’t think I did. He will be alright, because he’s staying with me, obviously. What kind of vet do you think I am, Lennox Davis?”

Why is he calling me by my full name? That’s so weird.

“Good, you should do that,” I say, not wanting to admit I jumped to conclusions. I want to say more, but something brushes up against my leg, and I scream. I literally scream and I jump forward, almost crashing into the shirtless man. He grabs my arms to steady me, looking annoyed as hell about having to touch me.

“It’s just a cat.” He crouches down to pet the big white cat that rubbed up against me. “My parents have about thirty animals, all living somewhere in this house. Most of them are cats or dogs, a couple of bunnies, and there’s a fishtank in my old bedroom.”

“He startled me.” I look around me, realizing there are indeed many animals hanging out, all of them looking at the loud woman who came bursting into their oasis of silence and calm.

Sorry, babies.

“I could tell you were startled, yes.” He gets back up and looks at Junior. “I could take him to the clinic, but there’s nothing I can do right now that can’t wait until the morning. Is it okay with you if he stays here? At the house?”

“Oh, erm, sure.” I feel stupid now. That’s such a nice offer. “Thanks, erm… you.”

He seems startled by that. “Oh, right. Sorry. I never introduced myself.” He holds out his hand and shakes mine very, very briefly, like he doesn’t like touching me at all. “Alex Riley. Tracy and Thomas’ oldest son.”

“Alex!” I exclaim, all the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. If I hadn’t been so frazzled when I tried to break down his door, I’d have realized sooner that I actually know him. “Wow, I haven’t seen you since… since you were 18, I guess? When you left for college?”

“That’s incorrect.” He sounds like he’s the teacher and I’m the dumb-as-a-bag-of-rocks student. “The last time we saw each other was when Luke, Scout and Jade got married.”

“Right,” I realize, “but we didn’t speak to each other then.”

“You said it was the last time we saw each other.”

He’s so fucking annoying. Why is he going on about this?

“Okay, fine. The last time I saw you was at the wedding. How long ago was that, before I say something that’s not entirely correct again and you feel the need to correct me like I’m a moron?”

He doesn’t seem to catch onto my sarcasm. “Almost exactly three years ago.”

I decide not to keep talking about this. This conversation isn’t going anywhere. “What are we going to do about Junior?”

He takes off his gloves and throws them in the trash, and washes his hands again. His entire demeanor changes into something soft and almost cute when he picks Junior off the table and cradles him to his chest. “Come here, Junior. It’s okay. We’ve got you.” He strokes his fur, not bothered at all that Junior is against his naked chest, nor that the cat still smells like poop and puke.

It’s… Would it be weird to say that for the first time since I waltzed in here that I think… He’s actually kind of attractive? I like a man who doesn’t give a fuck about getting dirty, who puts the wellbeing of an animal that’s not even his above his own, and who has a erm…

Okay, let’s just be frank here. Now that I’m taking in his body, I have to admit that he’s got a damn good one. He’s not ripped by any means, but he looks lean and slightly muscular. Kind of like a runner or a swimmer, I think? I don’t know, I don’t really do much sports. All I know is that his stomach is flat, he’s got nice pecs, and his biceps flex as he pets Junior. His dark blonde hair and light eyes are a really nice combination, and he’s got a very manly jawline.

“How are we gonna do this?” I ask again, trying to stop ogling him. “With Junior, I mean?”

He looks around at the other animals. “They’re used to my mom bringing in strays, so I doubt they will mind Junior sleeping here too, but maybe… Since he’s so sick, I wouldn’t mind taking him upstairs with me and making a nice little sleeping nest for him in my old childhood bedroom.”

“You want to sleep with my cat?” I joke. “My my, Alex, that’s quite kinky.”

To my complete surprise, he flushes bright red, his eyes darting away from me. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I was just joking.”

“Right,” he realizes, laughing along awkwardly. “Sorry, you woke me up. I’m not completely myself tonight. Kind of sleepy.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up like this. I was panicking.”

“Of course you were.” He strokes the top of Junior’s head, making him purr. “He seems to be doing a little better. Sweet little buddy.”

“I guess I erm…” I feel weird now. “I should… Should I just… go home?” It doesn’t feel right to leave Junior with someone I barely know, even if he is a vet, but staying here seems even stranger.

“It’s always hard when your pet is sick,” Alex says softly. The voice he uses around Junior and when he’s talking to me as his owner is very different from the way he talks to me as a fellow human. Sweeter. Less rude. “Would you like to sit down? Cuddle with him for a bit, have a cup of tea maybe? Discuss how you want to arrange all this?”

“Yes,” I decide. “I’d like that. That’s very kind of you.”

Alex hands me Junior, and goes into the kitchen to make both of us a cup of tea. We don’t talk, and he doesn’t tell me where to sit or ask which tea I want, but he does toss me a clean towel. I decide to sit down on the couch next to one of the dogs who is watching me like he’s not sure what to make of me. I put the towel on my lap and set Junior down on it. He huffs, hisses at me, and then climbs on top of the dog. The dog barely reacts, looking almost like he’s rolling his eyes and saying without words: Cats are so weird, why is this tiny thing getting on top of me? Oh well.

“Is it okay for Junior to be on top of your dog?” I ask Alex.

“Oh yeah, Tulip can handle anything. He’s always everyone’s pillow.”

Junior and the dog both seem comfortable, so I’m not going to interfere. Let’s just hope he doesn’t throw up or have diarrhea all over the poor dog.

Alex makes his way over with two cups of tea, and he sets them on the edge of the coffee table. He then gets down on the floor in front of me, poking his head into a side drawer of the table, looking for something. I’m too distracted to try and figure out what he’s looking for, because his pants are riding a little low on his hips now, and something is poking out of his waistband. I spot black lines on his skin – a tattoo?

Before I can stop myself, I’m already leaning in and pressing my fingers to it. I think I’m having a stroke or something, because who the fuck goes and touch a strange man’s back right above his ass crack?

Alex jumps up, bangs his head against the coffee table in the process, and he kind of rolls over the carpet before he finally gets up. His eyes are wild and he holds out his hands like he needs to fend me off.

“What the actual FUCK?!” he shouts, all his seriousness and kindness completely gone. “You grabbed my ass!”

“No I did not!” I shout back, even though I am definitely the one in the wrong here. “I rubbed your tattoo!”

Immediately, he turns bright red, and drops his hands. “That’s still extremely inappropriate and almost…”

“I sort of sexually assaulted you,” I agree, lowering my volume just like he did. I feel so stupid now. “I’m really sorry.”

He waves that off with both hands, looking like an idiot. “It’s okay, I just… Don’t touch me when I can’t see you, okay?”

“Does that mean you want me to touch you when you can see me?” I shouldn’t have said that, he’s turning even redder in the face now, but my reaction was automatic. I get like that sometimes. Blunt to a fault.

“No!” Alex exclaims. “No, that’s not… Just don’t put your hands on me! Don’t rub my tattoo!”

“So it is a tattoo?” I ask, still intrigued by that.

“I’m going to put on a shirt.” He points to the open drawer. “I was trying to find a coaster. Find your own before you start drinking tea, will you? Don’t leave a ring on the coffee table. It’s new.” With that, he rushes upstairs.

Junior makes a soft mewling sound next to me, so I absent-mindedly stroke his fur, murmuring that he’ll be fine. I don’t know what to make of Alex, if I’m honest. I understand why he’s angry with me, of course I do. I’d be pissed as hell if he touched my bare back. I would kick his ass. Still, he’s so… I don’t know. He switches between being so sweet to Junior and being quite brusque with me. Then again, I did storm into his house, demand he’d help my cat, got an invitation to stay for a while, an offer for him to watch my cat overnight, and then… I touched him without consent.

He probably hates me.

Oh well, he won’t be the first. I don’t even like myself half the time.