Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“It happens all the time, Milo. Even if he doesn’t mean to, that doesn’t mean he won’t.”
“If it happens all the time, then it’s an experience I should have, right? It’s a part of life. You can’t protect me forever.”
“I can try,” Mom said sadly. “I think I’d like to come out there.”
“No!” I rushed out. I realized how that sounded and added, “I’m not trying to upset you, but I just… I’m trying to stand on my own. Maybe after the bookstore is complete and things settle down.”
The silence stretched between us before Mom said, “I need to get ready for work. I love you, Milo.”
“I love you too.” I ended the call.
“You okay?” Gideon asked.
“Yeah. She’s sad, and I don’t want to make her feel that way, but I need to do this, and if she comes here, she’ll take over. I got my micromanaging from her.”
Gideon nodded, and somehow I knew he understood. “Thank you for trusting me. And I wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose. I promise.”
He couldn’t promise not to do it at all. Life didn’t work that way. “I promise not to hurt you on purpose either.”
Gideon pushed up on his elbows again, his chin resting in one of his hands. “Deal. Now let me go shower so I can take my best friend to the beach.”
“And brush your teeth!” I called when he got out of bed.
“I hate you!” he yelled back.
No, he didn’t. Even I knew that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gideon
I brushed my teeth and took a quick shower. I tried not to think about Milo’s conversation with his mom. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt him. He meant…hell, he meant more to me than I ever would have expected. More than maybe he should.
When I finished, Milo was waiting for me. “I made you a smoothie for breakfast. Is that enough?”
“You didn’t have to make me anything, Lo. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do shit like that for me.”
“I don’t. I like to. What do you think of my sandals? Flip-flops with nothing between my toes! Just a strap over the top of my foot. You should invest in some.”
“But my flip-flops don’t bother me. Just you.”
“I’m kidding. I don’t want you to worry about wearing them, remember? Let’s go. We can stop in at the bookstore on our way.” He’d set a pair of shorts by the door and now slipped his sandals off to pull them on before stepping into them again.
“Yeah, but do we really have to check on them?”
“Yes, Gid. Yes, we do.” He hefted a bag on his shoulders. “I got towels and sunscreen and hats for both of us in case we need them. I wish we had a beach umbrella. Do you have a beach umbrella? It’s good to be prepared.”
Milo always was. Even though we hadn’t gone to the beach together yet, I’d learned that he needed to be the one to get everything set up when we went out, otherwise he would stress out about something being forgotten. “I do, actually. And a beach blanket. They’re downstairs.”
We picked up the beach umbrella from one of the extra storage rooms in Conflicting Ink. I tried to get Milo not to stop in at the store, but it didn’t work. It took us twenty minutes to get out of there because he had to check everything to make sure it was being done properly.
We were close enough to the beach to walk. I hefted the umbrella over my shoulder, and Milo carried the bag. Luckily, it wasn’t an incredibly busy day. The sand was littered with families, groups of people, single people, but not as crazy as it could be where it was hard to find a spot.
“If we were in California, we’d be screwed,” Milo said as he laid the blanket out.
“Do you miss it?” I shoved the end of the umbrella into the sand.
“I miss my mom. I know she’s a lot, but she’s the only person in my life who’s always been in my corner.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you have her.”
He nodded, and we sat down. “Take off your shirt. I’ll put sunscreen on you, and you can do me.”
I swear it was like my dick had ears, holding out for any time Milo let out some kind of innuendo. Do him? Yes, please!
I did as he said while he pulled the bottle from our bag, and then he began to rub it on my shoulders and back. “When did you know you like tattoos?”
“I was always interested in them. I thought guys who had them were hot. All my teenage porn involved men with ink.”
“Do you wish I had tattoos?”
“What? No. Absolutely not. I like you the way you are.”
“That’s good because I don’t know if I could handle it. If I ever decide I want one, I’ll come to you.”