Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He shouldn’t feel like he wasn’t doing enough, but he did.
“How was your appointment yesterday?” Rafe asked Lori.
Her face pinched. “Nothing has changed.”
“But you’ve been working so hard at rehab, and the new medication—”
“It’s doing its job, but there’s a possibility the nerves are too damaged and it’s been too long.” Because he’d been too slow to come up with the funds for this newest treatment.
“Have you been eating well?” his mother asked, changing the subject.
“Fine, Mom.”
“You look thinner. Should I make some casseroles for you to take home?”
He didn’t have time to wait for casseroles to finish baking. “I have food in the fridge already, but I appreciate the offer.”
“You’re such a bad liar,” Lori said with a snicker.
His mother shook her head but let it go. “How’s work going?”
God, he did not want to talk about work, he’d come to get his mind off the shit storm he was dealing with. He needed his sister’s smart mouth to distract from his problems.
“Fine, it’s a nightclub, there’s not much to it except making sure we have enough booze and a DJ.”
“So that’s why you’re dead on your feet?”
Rafe scratched his cheek with his middle finger so his mother wouldn’t notice him flipping his sister the bird. Lori laughed. Rafe smiled at her. She was such a ball of sunshine, albeit a sarcastic one, but still. She cheered him up.
He finished his coffee and allowed his mother to talk him into staying for lunch. His brothers came home and they played a video game together. By the time Rafe finally left the house, some of the weight he’d been carrying around had lifted and he could actually breathe again.
The roads were freshly salted on his way home. He cruised through the city, heat blasting through the vents, and his music so loud it shook the windows. Rafe lost himself in the steady bass and drove without thinking.
So when he found himself on a street he’d avoided for the past seven years he was shocked enough to slam on the brakes. His car skidded, the rear end pulling around in a fishtail. Rafe gripped the steering wheel and drove into the curve, managing to straighten the vehicle before he sideswiped the parked cars.
When he finally came to a stop, he was chilled to the bone even though hot air was blowing in his face. His hands shook and his breath came out in deep panting gusts. Then, as his pulse slowed, his gaze rose to the ten-story brick building and its familiar green awnings. His palms began to itch.
He’d driven to Hopkins’s apartment building.
* * *
Sunday night Hop found himself in Ansel’s living room after their weekly dinner together. Ansel had made a cheesy rice casserole, lemon-pepper chicken, and a side salad. Everything had been so delicious Hop had asked for seconds. Bad idea, he was stuffed. That, plus multiple glasses of wine, was probably why he was sprawled awkwardly on the floor surrounded by his friends while they watched reruns of So You Think You Can Dance.
It was cozy, warm and familiar. Ansel and his boyfriend, Fitch, had created a welcoming space where everyone could feel at ease. Hop always enjoyed himself when he visited, even though it was a hell of a trip from the city. The room was packed with framed photos of Ansel and Fitch, funky knickknacks, and colorful pillows giving it a comforting and fun atmosphere. On the mantel, an abstract painting took the place of honor.
This was a place of love and acceptance. He cast a glance to the couch where Ansel sat on Fitch’s lap. Fitch was a big guy with a beard but he cuddled Ansel like he was the most precious thing in the world, brushing Ansel’s long blond hair with his fingers and pressing soft kisses into his shoulders.
The scene was so sweet Hop’s chest ached.
He shouldn’t be watching something so intimate.
He definitely shouldn’t be envious of the happy little homemakers. White picket fences weren’t Hop’s style anyway. Give him romantic slaps on the ass any day. Focusing his attention back on the TV, he ignored the niggle in the back of his mind calling him a liar.
“We should add that move,” Z said. “It’s killer.”
“Yeah, but heels.” Tam leaned against the sofa between his boyfriend’s knees.
“We can tweak it,” Jae said. And they would too, next time they were in the studio. The Sassy Boyz did things on heels most people wouldn’t dare in bare feet. That’s what made them amazing.
Hop drifted off after that. The soft rumble of television voices mixed with the soothing sounds of his friends became his lullaby. It almost drove out the unease he’d been carrying around since Friday afternoon.
Almost.
His dreams were weird amalgamations where past and present mixed. He’d been a teenager desperately searching for something he’d lost. Rafe had been there, but he hadn’t been the young Rafe who’d always come to his rescue. He’d been the new Rafe, the one who’d looked at Hop with pure desire—even if for only a moment.