Love and History (The Script Club #6) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Script Club Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
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It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be the one to fall.

10

EZRA

Retirement was gonna look good on me someday. Sure, I had a good thirty-five to forty years to bust my ass building a career, but when the time came to step down from the successful firm I would eventually found, I’d happily spend my days puttering around. Maybe I’d take up gardening, golfing, or think about opening a café. Something simple where I could flip the “open” sign on days I felt like cooking for the masses.

I’d recruit my future kids and grandkids to take over on days I didn’t feel like working. And just like that, my brain kicked into hyper gear. If I was bi and I ended up with a dude, would we have kids? Those future kids and grandkids would have two dads and two grandpas. Was I cool with that? It was one thing to support my queer friends and my nephew, but growing old with another man was a different angle on my bi-ness altogether.

Okay, I was tripping myself out. I grimaced in the gym mirror and set my weight aside before I accidentally dropped it on my foot. I wiped off the equipment and guzzled a gallon of water, my eyes fixed on my reflection. I wasn’t sure I recognized myself. My mind whirled with a dozen questions coming at me like grenades.

Who was I? What did I want? Where did I see myself in five years? Ten years? Forty years?

Could I be out and proud and live openly with a man?

It was one thing to give in to desire. Sex was easy…and fun. But the real thing might be challenging. And let’s be honest, we’d made a deal from the start that this thing between Holden and me would never be real. In fact, he’d freak out if he knew I was thinking longevity thoughts.

For all his warmth and openness, Holden could throw a stiff arm like a running back warding off the offense. I mistook his awkward tangents as a geeky quirk, but they were a defense mechanism. He’d been hurt and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. I understood and I felt extremely protective of him. I wanted to be the one to make sure he didn’t get blindsided by assholes who didn’t get his quirks.

And some of his quirks were legit odd.

Normal people didn’t wear velvet great coats while putting gas in their car. And they certainly didn’t greet gas station attendants with, “Hark, kind sir. There seems to be a problem with pump number three.”

No kidding. That happened the other day. I’d followed him inside to buy the energy drink he’d just warned me caused dehydration. I’d had a hard time keeping the smile off my face at his theatrics. But when the long-haired, scruffy attendant tossed a conspiratorial “Can you believe this dork?” look my way, I glared until he hurried off to fix the damn pump.

But normal was overrated ’cause the thought of him wearing that same coat while riding my dick on my desk chair gave me wood. And this was not the place for it. I clandestinely adjusted my semi in my workout shorts and hefted my bag over my shoulder before heading to the parking lot.

And I was still thinking about Holden. I supposed that made sense. We’d spent a lot of time together lately. I wasn’t scheduled to return to work till mid-August, so I was free to do whatever the fuck I wanted. And all I wanted was to be with Holden.

Confession. I’d watched more Star Trek reruns than a sane person should ever admit, read sonnets, given complimentary foot rubs while he graded papers, and helped where I could for the upcoming Renaissance event—building booths and painting signage. In return, I made him watch Top Gun, taught him the rules of lacrosse, and how to julienne basil.

What I should have been doing was moving my shit to my new place in Santa Monica. Cole was already there. He’d rented a van on the first and schlepped his belongings over all at once. He didn’t mind that I hadn’t joined him right away. He and Beth had the house to themselves and no doubt appreciated the alone time.

And since Noah’s condo sold, Tommy was busy helping his man clean and organize. I’d been told that our house would close escrow earlier than expected, so if I were cool, I’d start moving my shit out of my room. But I was a greedy opportunist. I wanted to be with Holden, and having the house to ourselves practically every damn night was too sweet to pass up.

Don’t get me wrong, we were still careful. We slept together, but Holden closed and locked his door at night. We figured that getting caught jimmying it open would be easier to explain than what he was doing in my bed. But so far, it wasn’t an issue.



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