Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I want that too. I want you, Sam, and I’ll take you any way I can.”
He’s right. The long-distance is difficult, but not being together is worse.
*
“He’s beautiful.” Sam runs his hand down Spartan’s neck. “And big.”
“He’s a big softie is what he is.” I clip the lead rope to his halter and lead my big gray horse outside. The grass is dry and browning, and Spartan sniffs around, looking for the best grass to eat. Sam has been in LA with me for two days now, and has to leave in a few hours so he can get back to Chicago from work.
And I’m going back with him.
“How’s he doing?” Sam asks.
“Better, but I’m still worried he’s going to pull a muscle again. Retired racehorses can run into lots of issues. It’s sad, really how they’re worked so hard when they’re young and it sets them up for a lifetime of issues after that.”
“That is sad, but he has a good home now.”
“Yeah.” I smile and follow along, letting Spartan take the lead on where to go. “I do think he’d like being in the Midwest where it’s a little cooler and the grass isn’t always dry. Plus, almost having to evacuate him a few years ago really traumatized me. I mean, I know something bad can happen anywhere, but the fires…they scare me.”
“That would be scary. He’s making me miss having horses.” Sam pets him again, brushing pieces of hay of his withers. “There’s an old farmhouse in the town Rory lives in that I’ve always liked. It’s in rough shape, but any time we go visit her, something about it appeals to me.”
“Do you think it’s haunted?”
“It probably is, which is why it’s been bought and sold so many times.”
“Ohh, now I’m interested.” Spartan leads us to a new patch of grass. “How far from Chicago is she?”
“Only about an hour or so. It’s not a bad drive if you don’t run into traffic.”
“I’d like to go see her sometime,” I say with a smile. “It would be fun.”
“She would love that. She still looks up to you so much. You helped her probably more than you know.”
My smile widens. “If I can make anyone weird, I’ve done my job.” We walk Spartan to the pasture and Sam opens the gate for us and Spartan takes off, nickering to the other horses out there. We walk back to my car hand in hand, needing to rush back to my house so I can pack enough stuff to last me a week at Sam’s place.
It’s nothing official; I can’t really say I’m moving in with him. But it’s a start, and I know our ending is going to be a happy one.
28
Chloe
I look up from the couch and see Sam standing in the doorway. His eyes go from me to Charles and back again. I don’t think anything of it until I see the abhorrence on his face.
“Is this why you needed more time?” Brows pushed together, he turns and starts to walk away.
“Sam!” I call, scrambling to get up. My foot catches in the blanket and I fall, hitting my arm on the coffee table. Pain radiates through me, but I ignore it. “Sam!” I call again.
I make it outside and he slows but doesn’t turn around.
“It’s not what you think!”
This time he stops. “Then what is it?” He looks at me, pain obvious on his face. “Because it looks like you went back to the arms of your ex-boyfriend as soon as things get rough.”
“No,” I press, heart racing. I open my mouth to tell him the truth, but it’s not my secret to tell. “There’s nothing going on between us. Charles is my friend and we…we…”
“It’s fine, Chloe,” he says, and sounds so defeated.
“It’s not,” I go on and move toward him. Sam takes a step back and my heart breaks. “There’s nothing between us.”
“She’s right.” Charles appears in the doorway and Eric, his stuntman boyfriend that joined us for a pity party, stands behind him. “We’re friends and nothing more. That’s all we’ve ever been.” Charles comes down the stone porch steps. “Because I’m gay.”
“What?” Sam asks, looking from me to Charles and back again. Charles has a playboy reputation—with woman. Sam’s confusion is warranted.
“I’m gay,” Charles repeats and motions to Eric. “That’s my boyfriend.”
“Charles,” I start. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. For us both.” Charles steps forward. “Nothing is going on between the two of us and it never has. Our whole relationship was fabricated by Karina, our publicist, to get attention for the show. It worked, and when we were fake-dating, we became close friends. Chloe was one of the few people who knew—and kept—my secret. I love Chloe like a sister, and even if the thought of kissing a woman did appeal to me, I wouldn’t want to kiss my sister.”