Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He jogged down the stairs, his pulse louder and louder in his ears. Van didn’t put his shoes on before unlocking the door and jogging out to his car, likely to be told to fuck off and die via car window note, which he would deserve.
That wasn’t what the note said, though. Thank you for your help yesterday. I owe you one. And then directions to a fishing area that Van vaguely knew. His father had never taken him. Jonathan’s dad had a few times, but it didn’t sound as though they’d gone to the exact spot Shane described, but it was close.
His eyes darted to the house. To the perfect paint, and perfect lawn, and the walls that held so many fucking nightmares. He needed to talk to his mom. Needed to see if there was any way they could salvage any part of their relationship, help her take care of whatever she needed to move, and get the hell out of there.
He glanced down at the note again, saw the anger in Shane’s face yesterday and the anger from their childhood.
He remembered the pride, too…the strength…the loyalty to his mother, and that goddamn loneliness that Van had felt matched his own.
Instead of going in and heading straight for his dad’s office, he slipped his shoes on, grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, and went back out to his car. If he could try one more time to earn Shane’s forgiveness, he could go back to LA with a clearer conscience.
It didn’t take him long to get to the old dirt road. Van remembered it. The brush had grown more and the ground was rougher than it used to be. His car bottomed out once, but he ignored it, continuing to make his way between the trees and brush until the road veered to the left. Shane’s truck was parked there. When he was a kid, he would have continued to follow the road to go fishing, but instead, he parked beside Shane. Van snatched the note from the seat so he could follow the directions Shane had left for him.
It wasn’t a long walk. There was a slight trail that led the way and before he knew it, Van stepped out of the trees and into a clearing—a bend in the lake in front of him—Shane there, sitting in a chair, with his back to Van.
“I didn’t bring you a chair,” Shane said without looking. Van wasn’t sure why but his lips pulled into a smile.
“I deserve that,” he replied before taking a step, then another toward Shane.
He shrugged. “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Me either.”
“Wasn’t sure I wanted you to.”
Van stopped beside him, but didn’t look down, just kept his eyes trained forward on all the gorgeous green of the trees and the quiet lake tucked between them. “And you are now?” he asked. “Sure if you wanted me to come or not?”
“Nope,” Shane answered and Van appreciated his honesty.
“Can’t say I blame you.” He didn’t blame Shane at all. “I’m sorr—”
“Don’t. Don’t do that,” Shane cut him off. “I don’t need or want your apology. That’s not why I left the note.”
Shane’s words didn’t surprise him. What the fuck good would I’m sorry do, anyway? It couldn’t change the past. It couldn’t change the way they’d treated Shane.
He fingered the charm on the black rope chain around his neck before tucking it into his shirt. “I know it’s not why you left the note. It’s still something I need to say though.”
“No offense, but fuck what you need,” Shane replied and then for the first time he looked up at Van. He saw the movement from the corner of his eye, looked down and Jesus, it hit him again how the man next to him looked like a completely different person from the boy he’d known. He was harder in some ways, yet seemed softer in others. More confident. Happier. Maybe not in that moment, but Van knew it was true. He’d heard it in Shane’s laughter at Lucky Rose. In the way he’d spoken to everyone before he saw Van.
“Fair enough,” Van replied. He could apologize to Shane anyway, but he also figured he owed Shane that moment. He owed him more than that, and he knew it.
Van kneeled, then sat in the dirt beside Shane’s chair. He wrapped his arms around his knees and waited to hear what Shane needed to tell him.
“You sure you don’t mind sitting out here with a faggot?” There was a sharp sting to Shane’s words that made Van wince. It had been one of his father’s favorite words. One he’d hurled at Van as though it was the worst thing he could be. And he’d done that without knowing Van’s secret. Hell, Van wasn’t sure he’d known it himself back then. He would have been too afraid to admit it.