Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The idea of sitting in a bar with Vanessa, Ed, and Sarah sounded terrible. Everything sounded terrible.
I don’t think I can, Van, he wrote. I can’t drive and I’m really tired.
She wrote back instantly. Dude. Are you pissed at us? Cuz you’ve been more of a dick than usual lately.
He sighed. He wasn’t sure what he was. He wasn’t sure why an outing he would have looked forward to a year ago had lost all its appeal.
No way, he wrote. He didn’t have the heart to let Van believe he was upset with her to get out of going. Just kind of stuck here. And, you know, broken.
I’ll pick you up! Van offered, which he should have predicted. Seriously, Ed really misses you and it’s his damn birthday. Don’t be a fuckhead. I’ll come by around 7.
At that Jack smiled slightly. “Don’t be a fuckhead” had been the Vanessa Carlson catchphrase since high school, and woe betide those who didn’t heed it.
OK, Jack wrote, already dreading it.
* * *
True to her word, Vanessa’s headlights cut through the dark at seven on the dot. She greeted the dogs enthusiastically, hissed at the cats companionably, then said, “You look like shit.”
“Always a pleasure, V.”
“No, I mean you look...” She cocked her head and looked up at him consideringly. “Sad.”
Jack gestured to his leg and his crutches and shrugged. “Sucks.”
Her narrowed eyes said she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she let it go, gave Bernard one last kiss on his huge head, and they left.
* * *
“His bed frame was made of antlers!”
Sarah gestured wildly enough that a frothy plug of beer slugged out of her bottle and streamed down her hand. She licked it off.
“He opened the door and it was like fucking Hannibal in there. And I was like ‘Hell no, dude, I am not screwing you on that throne of death.’ Like, how is it comforting to bring someone back to your house and basically say, ‘Hey, I kill things bigger than you on the regular with no problem. Wanna bone?’” She paused, outrage turning to giggles. “Ha ha, bone, get it?”
Jack snorted. He was pleasantly buzzed and enjoying hearing Sarah and Ed trade dating horror stories and wondering why he’d avoided his friends for so long. As always, Sarah won because it was clear that men were horrible. Vanessa’s expression suggested that she was extremely glad she already had Rachel and didn’t have to suffer any of this.
“What about you, J?” Sarah said. “Any recent dating disasters to share?”
Ed feigned a thoughtful look and stroked his chin. “I don’t believe it’s called dating when you screw people in your truck outside of bars, is it?”
Everyone laughed and Jack rolled his eyes.
“Nah, no disasters.”
Jack wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to tell his friends about Simon. There was a time when he’d have been just as eager to share as Sarah. But now...since Davis...there was a part of him that just couldn’t trust them. A part of him that was newly aware that once he told someone something he couldn’t know what would be done with his confession. Anything could happen as a result of his words. It felt like chaos and risk and...helplessness.
And then there was the way that Simon was one million miles away from the dudes he’d fucked and never seen again and he wouldn’t even know how to tell his friends what made up that distance. Simon’s strong chin and downcast eyes. His trembling lip and the way he’d glared at Jack when he told him off in the woods. His bravery and his sweetness and how he grabbed Jack so tight when they kissed, as if he refused to allow a single inch to separate them.
There was the way that Simon was one million miles away from anyone he’d ever known and how for now, he thrilled at knowing Simon was just his.
Chapter Nine
Simon
When Simon got to Jack’s for the evening walk, Jack was outside chopping wood while leaning on one crutch. Splinters flew and Jack’s back and shoulder muscles flexed beneath his sweat-soaked T-shirt. His biceps bulged. Simon’s mouth watered.
“Hey!” Jack called after letting the axe bite into the stump he was chopping on.
Simon swallowed. As he drew even with Jack the smell of fresh cut wood mixed with clean sweat. Simon wanted to press his nose to Jack’s neck and breathe it all in.
He realized he was staring when a lazy, self-satisfied smile slid onto Jack’s face.
“See something you like?” he drawled.
Simon’s face heated and he said, “Maybe.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe you wanna stick around a while after your walk...”
“Okay, yeah, sure, okay,” Simon garbled, and he shot Jack a glare for flustering him. Jack just smiled.
* * *
It was dark when he got back with the pack. They settled themselves around the fire and Simon stood in the middle of the living room.