Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Or someone was trying to tear it down. There were a few small holes here and there but not placed strategically enough to make it easier to bring the wall down in large pieces.
“Here,” King said as he suddenly shoved the kitten into my arms. “He’s coming.”
“What?” I asked stupidly. I could hear footsteps overhead, but what did that matter?
I had my answer when King said, “Do this for me, and I’ll explain later.”
I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about when he suddenly grabbed my free arm and practically dragged me to the couch. He shoved me unceremoniously down onto it just as footsteps began coming down the steps. King pulled his phone out and put it to his ear without even dialing. Just as Christopher appeared, King said, “Yeah, Gio, I’m on my way.”
I was about to ask King what the fuck he was doing when Christopher worriedly asked, “Is Gio okay?”
“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” King explained. “Faucet’s busted. Water’s spraying all over the place.” Barely pausing, King looked at me and said, “Sorry, buddy, gotta cancel on dinner tonight. Hopefully you can scrounge something up on your own.” As he talked, King started walking toward the front door. “Maybe try that deli next to your hotel. They might have some cold sandwiches or something.”
Was he seriously not only intentionally leaving me alone with Christopher but trying to angle a dinner invitation for me by implying I had no way to get a hot meal for myself? What the fuck was he up to? And didn’t he know that two could play the game?
“Faucet’s broken?” I said, catching King before he could make his escape.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So water’s spraying all over the kitchen. Flooding it, I suppose,” I observed as I carefully settled the kitten on my lap. Christopher stood in silence, his head moving back and forth like he was watching a tennis game.
“Yeah, that’s right. A lot of potential for water damage,” King said, his hand on the knob of the now open door.
“Oh, that’s bad,” I agreed. “But you did tell him to just turn the water off beneath the sink, right?”
King gave me a dark look promising retribution and then muttered something he purposefully kept too soft for us to hear as he closed the door behind him.
There was a pregnant pause as Christopher and I seemed to come to the same realization at the same time.
It was just me and him.
“I really should get going,” I said, but as I began to stand, Christopher hurried to my side and urged me to sit again by putting his hand on my shoulder. Despite not having known him well four years ago, I felt like I was being given a glimpse into the old Christopher.
The one I hadn’t had enough time to get to know.
I reminded myself that I wasn’t supposed to get to know the young man. Not only was there more than ten years between us, but his normally overprotective uncle also happened to be the man who signed my paychecks.
“Let me just clean this up,” Christopher said as he motioned to the cut on my head. “I want to make sure there’s no glass in it,” he added. Instead of just the couple of bandages I was expecting to see him holding, he had what looked like a tackle box in his hand.
Rather than sitting next to me on the couch, he pulled an ottoman forward and used that, putting us face-to-face. Our eyes met briefly, but Christopher quickly dropped his eyes. I dropped my own and studied the kitten, who had calmed considerably and was trying to stand on my thigh. The poor thing wobbled considerably as it began walking across my lap.
“Oh, fuck, Christopher,” I whispered as I realized I’d ended up hurting the kitten somehow after all.
“He’s okay, Rush,” Christopher said at the same time that one of his hands covered mine where it was resting on my knee. The combination of his touch and the use of my name had me looking up. Christopher paused as that weird energy thing happened between us again. I knew exactly what it was, but I wasn’t sure Christopher did. He eased his hand back once again and dropped his eyes. When he’d first sat down, he hadn’t seemed nervous or stressed, but something had changed.
“He, um, he’s got a neurological disorder,” Christopher said as he carefully reached one hand out and petted the little cat. “The vet said he probably got injured when he was just a baby. He’s not in any pain… he just can’t react as quickly to things, and obviously his balance is off.”
I looked down at the cat and tried very hard to ignore Christopher’s hand as it stroked over the cat, which was now starting to settle down for a nap.