Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” The flippy-floppy sensation in Pike’s stomach couldn’t decide whether that would indeed be good news.
Can I really leave Zack behind? He didn’t have an answer, wasn’t sure whether Zack would even care, or whether taking the job might actually be the best thing for Zack, take the pressure off him. Fuck. I don’t know anything anymore.
* * *
“Ryan was right. You’re alone.” A dark-haired man in a khaki service uniform that indicated he was both a SEAL and a decorated lieutenant with the last name Floros came around the curtain in Zack’s room. He looked vaguely familiar in that Zack was sure he’d seen him around base.
“Excuse me?” His parents had recently left for the night, and Zack’s head had that almost-asleep bleariness that he hated. He blinked himself more alert. Hell, that’s a lieutenant you’re talking to. “Sir?”
“Oh none of that. I’m not here in anything resembling an official capacity. Only still in uniform because I came from a meeting on base.” The guy stuck out his hand. He had the way of flattening his vowels that Zack associated with native Californians like Pike. “Apollo Floros. Friend of Ryan’s. He asked me to stop by. Said to go easy on you because you looked like crap.”
“But you’re not going to?” Zack guessed. The guy gave off massive badass vibes—Zack could have pegged him as spec ops even without the uniform. But from the tattoos peeking out along with truly impressive biceps under his uniform shirt to the ultrashort hair to a nose that had probably been broken at least once, everything about the guy said he wasn’t someone to mess with.
“Nope.” Lieutenant Floros gave a downright feral smile—one that didn’t reach his cloudy hazel eyes. “Easy’s not my style.”
Zack could believe that but found himself struggling for an appropriate reply. Before Ryan had left yesterday, he told Zack he’d give his name to some friends and had given him a paper with some numbers on it since Zack still didn’t have a phone. But he hadn’t expected anyone to actually show up at the hospital. Hell, he and Ryan had barely had time to finish talking before Zack’s parents had returned and Ryan had made himself scarce, promising to be in touch soon.
And Zack had been right about the lecture awaiting him—any cred he’d built up by being sick had evaporated in the fiery tirade from his father about picking appropriate friends. Zack had been on the verge of blurting out everything, but then his mother had busted out the tears, telling his dad to lay off, that Zack was a good kid.
The words had died in Zack’s throat, caught by a wave of sadness that he wasn’t either of those things. He hadn’t been a kid for years, and even when he had been one, she’d been the same, long on the waterworks, short on the real help. And he wasn’t particularly good either, not when he was either lying to or alienating everyone he cared for. What he was was a coward, letting the moment go, still not ready to detonate that particular grenade.
But he was inching closer, as evidenced by the cryptic lieutenant in front of him. He’d given Ryan permission to tell his friends, but somehow he hadn’t expected someone so—
“You keep staring at me like I’m here to court-martial you.” The man took a seat in the chair closest to the bed. “I knew I should have made Maddox come with me. He’s less scary—”
“I’m not scared,” Zack said sharply. “Just trying to figure you out. Are you...” Fuck. He didn’t know how to phrase this question. Ryan had simply told him, introducing Josiah shortly after he and Zack met in this very hospital, and all Josiah’s friends like Pike made it clear through jokes and innuendo. And this guy was macho. There was a pretty good chance Ryan had sent some straight guy to see him, and here was Zack about to put his foot in it.
“Ryan said you might want to talk to a guy who’s out with the teams.”
His gaze dropped to the lieutenant’s hands. Whoa. He was married—flat gold band right there on his ring finger. “But you’re married.”
“Last I checked that was legal.” His already murky eyes got darker and his mouth tensed. “My husband died last year, but yeah, married. And out. And here to reassure you that there’s plenty of us, but clearly I’m not the right person for that.”
“I’m really sorry about your husband.” A thin spear of fear pierced Zack. Fuck. To have been out. To have loved someone. To have their freaking ring. And then...not. He tried to imagine a world without Pike in it, a world without second chances and do-overs, a world without laughter and touch, a world where he was the one left behind.