Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

Oh, God.

I couldn’t hide it.

I wanted to hide it.

But I couldn’t lie because I couldn’t jeopardise a future with him—a future I wanted more than anything.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead, my hands latched around the plastic handlebar. “There’s more.”

“More?” He slammed to a halt. Grabbing my elbow, he forced me to do the same. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I give everything I can.”

“And that’s fucking admirable.” He smiled so sweetly. “Vesper, you don’t have to justify it. I get that desire, that drive, that obsession to help. If you feel guilty because you get contentedness from helping others, don’t. That’s a good thing. You’re doing a good thing—”

“Let me finish.” I couldn’t let him derail me or accept his understanding when he didn’t have the full story. I’d been ostracised because of this. My parents wanted nothing to do with me because of this.

It was kind of a big deal even though to an outsider there was a simple, logical solution. However, it wasn’t an easy solution to me. I had no intention of fixing my little issue. It was what I needed to do. End of story.

“Okay…” Ryder took a step back, crossing his arms. His stance lost its affection, bracing himself for bad news.

Was it bad news?

Not really.

But it showed I had flaws and a few pieces of battered and well-travelled baggage that would have to be accepted or kicked to the curb because I would not, could not, stop donating.

I can’t.

I sucked in a deep breath. “The thought of animals in the world, alone, cold, unloved, and hurting breaks me. I became a vet because I couldn’t become anything else. This love for creatures was there since birth. I don’t cry if I hear of people hurt or when I watch the awful things we do to each other on TV. But put a puppy in a drainpipe or a box of abandoned bunnies in the river and I’m a freaking mess.”

I stiffened, warming to my speech. “Every day, there are so many little souls being destroyed in shelters because of lack of resources. It consumes me. I don’t have room to keep them at home. I don’t have money to adopt them all and give them a better life. All I can do is heal their pain and donate everything I can so their bellies are full, they have somewhere comfy to sleep, and their minds are occupied with toys to play with. It’s nothing in the scheme of things but it’s—”

“Wait.” Ryder went still. “When you say you give everything you can…”

My shoulders stiffened. “There’s a reason why I live in a shitty apartment when even three-bedroom houses in this town are very affordable. Did you think I drive a 1995 Honda Accord that breaks down every month because I want to?”

Oh, God.

He’ll hate me. He’ll look at me as if I’m an idiot—just like my parents.

Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you saying? That you put the donations first and you second?”

When he said it like that, it was moronic. I knew that. Everyone knew that. I came first because if I didn’t look after me how was I supposed to look after anyone else? But how could I buy a soft blanket when so many dogs slept with nothing? How could I buy expensive cheese for a treat when cats were dying of starvation? Every time I went shopping for myself, I drowned beneath guilt and ended up choosing basic necessities and nothing else.

Everything else went to those who couldn’t ask for help.

I sighed heavily. “And there you have my stupid secret.” Pushing the trolley, I wheeled past him, taking my shame and doing my best to wrap it up with pride. I was proud of what I did. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t find some selfish pleasure in arriving at the shelter with my car full of goodies and giving to those hopelessly adorable strays.

But I had enough grief from my parents telling me how stupid I was. I’d made the mistake of opening a new credit card and listing their address for delivery. A statement had been posted and, because my parents didn’t believe in privacy, they’d opened it.

And the shit hit the fan.

I lived pay cheque to pay cheque and because it wasn’t enough to donate what I wanted, I lived on credit.

Along with my student loans and start-up business debt, I was not in a good place.

And it was my moronic fault.