Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The gorgeous bouquet wasn’t enough to distract from the man who looked like shit. Bits of grout and dust covered his white T-shirt and work jeans. He even had some in his disheveled hair, but it was the devastation and self-hatred on his face that had Liam’s anger melting away.
Dammit.
“I fucked up,” Tate blurted.
Liam didn’t say anything.
“These are for you.” Tate thrust the flowers into Liam’s hands. “I didn’t know what kind you like or if you even like flowers, but the lady at the store said this was a good idea because it had a bunch of different flowers. Something for everyone, I think she said. She also said it should match well with whatever your house looks like. If you hate them, I can, I don’t know, give them to my mom or something.”
Holy crap, a nervous, bumbling Tate was adorable. There he stood, filthy from work, tall, gruff, and completely out of his element. The flowers were charming, but the awkward speech was what had him saying, “Come on in.”
He stepped back to allow Tate into the apartment. They stared at each other for a moment, tension thick until Tate’s gaze fell to his knees again. “I’m so sorry. Is it bad?”
Shaking his head, Liam said, “Just some deep scrapes. It doesn’t feel good, but it’s nothing major. Though I won’t be on my knees giving blow jobs for a bit.” He chuckled at his dumb attempt to break the tension, but Tate didn’t laugh.
“I panicked,” he said.
“I know.”
“Yeah.” Tate ran a hand through his hair. “I’m really fucking sorry.”
There wasn’t a doubt in Liam’s mind that he meant the words.
“I know that too.” The urge to reach out and hug Tate was strong, but he sensed there was more the man wanted to say, so he stayed where he was and waited.
“I—” He shoved his hands in his pockets, probably to keep them out of his hair. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m freaked out all the fucking time. Not just for myself, though. I’m worried about what will happen to you if Randy sees us together.”
Liam knew exactly what could happen to someone who wasn’t accepted in this town. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “I like you, Liam. A lot.”
Oh, this man.
“Can I hug you?” Liam set the flowers on the table and stepped closer to Tate, who nodded.
“Yeah.”
He wrapped his arms around the bigger man and held tight. Tate’s rigidity lasted another two seconds before he melted into Liam’s embrace, burying his face in his neck. A long, shuddered sigh left the tortured man.
They stayed that way for a while, holding each other by the door. When Tate finally loosened his clasp, Liam did the same and stepped back. “Maybe next time we try for a little exhibitionism,” he said in another attempt at humor. “ I’m the one who should fuck you against the wall. Less risk of bodily injury.”
Tate froze.
Shit, too soon?
“I don’t do that,” he said, voice devoid of emotion.
Liam winced. He shouldn’t have assumed anything. Just because he was vers didn’t mean everyone enjoyed it both ways. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s too—” Tate said at the same time.
Wait one second. Liam tilted his head. “Too what?”
With the expression of somebody caught in a trap, Tate shook his head. “Never mind.”
Oh, hell no. He was not about to say what Liam thought he was about to say. “Too what, Tate?” he asked, jamming his sore hands on his hips. “Too gay? Is that what you were gonna say?”
“What? No, I—” He sputtered as his face paled.
Well, now Liam was pissed. It was one thing for Tate to keep his truth from the rest of the world, but to lie to himself and Liam after all they’d done together? That was unacceptable.
“Newsflash, buddy,” he said, stepping into Tate’s personal space. “You are gay.”
The man’s face went from pale to sickly gray. “No, I’m… I… no…”
“No?” Liam threw his hands up, stalked away, then came back. “You know what? My bad. I know better than to label someone’s sexuality without their input. So gay isn’t the right word. How about bi? Pan? Which one is it, Tate?”
Later he’d feel the hot sting of shame for pressing Tate to label himself when he might not even know for sure, but right then, Liam was too damn mad to think rationally.
“You know what? It doesn’t even fucking matter. The word you want right now is queer. Because all the others fall under that umbrella. You are queer, Tate, and you have as much of a fucking problem with that as your dipshit brother and his stupid friends have.” He was shouting now, waving his arms like a madman as Tate stood there and took it, looking like he might get sick on the floor.