Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Is it about James?” Hannah said, her voice careful. “I haven’t seen him around at all. Have you had a falling out with him?”
“Let’s not talk about him.” He took her hand in his, trying to soften his voice. “We were talking about us.”
She smiled at him, her eyes flashing with sadness. “There’s no us, Ryan. Haven’t you noticed that already? They say true love can survive anything life throws at it. Maybe ours wasn’t that strong.”
He looked at her and felt…nowhere as upset as he had expected to be. When he’d broken it off with her a month and a half ago, he’d had to get wasted to dull the pain. Now there was just a bittersweet feeling about what could have been—and nothing more.
“I’m sorry,” he said, laying a hand on her cheek and leaning in to brush his lips against hers chastely.
“I know,” she said. “And you know what? Although it didn’t work out, I’m glad you asked for a second chance. It finally gave me the closure I needed. I’m no longer as upset as I was when you broke it off. I can move on now.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Friends?”
Looking at her lovely face, Ryan knew she was right: the past few weeks had given him the closure he needed, too. At least where she was concerned.
“Friends,” he said, hugging her. She smelled familiar, but her scent didn’t make him light-headed with contentment. He didn’t want to nuzzle into her and breathe her in until he felt like he wanted to swallow her. She didn’t smell like home.
She didn’t smell like his.
But then again, she had never been.
Chapter 22
When his phone went off in the very early morning a few weeks later, Ryan blinked blearily a few times before staring at the caller ID again. No, he wasn’t seeing things: he had the dubious pleasure of a call from Arthur Grayson.
His stomach flipped. Arthur wouldn’t be calling him at this hour unless something had happened: Arthur had called him a total of two times in all the years of Ryan’s friendship with his son. Something was wrong. And since they had only one thing in common, Ryan didn’t like what this call might mean.
“Have you talked to my son lately?” Arthur said when he answered. Well, he certainly wasn’t bothering with social niceties.
Ryan stared at the dark wall opposite the bed. “Which one?” he said, just to be a dick. It was nothing Arthur didn’t deserve.
“Hardaway—”
“Look, I don’t even know where he is,” Ryan bit off. His temper hadn’t improved since his breakup with Hannah; in fact, it was worse. “He didn’t bother to tell me. I haven’t seen or talked to him in more than a month.”
“I don’t believe you,” Arthur said.
“We aren’t even friends anymore,” Ryan said, not bothering to hide his bitterness.
Silence. Arthur’s surprise was palpable.
“You can be happy now,” Ryan said, his lips twisting. “That’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“You were a bad influence,” Arthur said testily.
Ryan chuckled. “You mean I had too much of influence. You hated it.”
“And I was right. You’re the reason he’s—that way. He would have been normal if—”
“I’m really not in the mood for your bigotry,” Ryan said flatly. “You’d better have a bloody good reason for calling me or I’m hanging up.”
He could hear Arthur take a deep breath.
“I’m concerned about James,” he admitted at last, his reluctance obvious.
“Why?” Ryan said, squashing down the urge to ask where Jamie was. If he knew where Jamie was, he didn’t trust himself to stay away from him—and he had to. The fact that he and Hannah hadn’t worked out had changed nothing: Jamie had made it clear that he was sick of the situation and wanted to be left alone. He wanted Ryan to live his own life and stop fucking with his mind.
Whether he liked it or not, he had to respect Jamie’s decision, no matter how pissed off at Jamie he was for ending their friendship in such a way. And he was pissed off. Never mind that rationally he knew that Jamie had done the right thing—they couldn’t go on like that—but the way Jamie had handled the situation was shitty. First, Jamie had claimed that the sex would change nothing and didn’t have to mean anything; then, after using him like some glorified dildo to get his rocks off, Jamie made a full U-turn and kicked him out of his life over the fucking phone.
“He’s not himself,” Arthur said. “He has left the country against my will, he left his job, his responsibilities. James has stopped answering my calls entirely. Whitford’s boy is my only source of information now, and he is reluctant to tell me anything.”
Ryan cursed on the inside. Whitford’s boy. So Jamie was in Russia with Luke. It was something he really hadn’t needed to know. Because there was a part of him that was already thinking how soon he could arrange a trip to Russia—and screw with Jamie’s head again.