Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Brady looks like he wants to throw up. “Why does a root canal sound more enticing than that?”
It really does. “Because putting everything you want on the line is hard?”
“Understatement.”
Our food arrives, and we go back to being silent as we eat, but my mind ticks over.
If Kit is willing to move to Coronado when I’m called back from rehab and I’m in Virginia for the next few months, the only one who will be out of reach will be Brady.
But he only has one year left of law school, and then he could ask his uncle to be transferred to the LA office. It’s still not ideal, but LA to San Diego is a lot easier than New York to San Diego.
There has to be a solution I’m not seeing, but until we actually talk about what we all want, no hard plans can be made.
“I’m free!” I cry as soon as that damn cast is cut off me. “Now to parkour my way to the parking lot.”
I can’t even try to get out of the hospital bed before Kit pushes me down.
My doctor approves of Kit pinning me. “Maybe hold off on parkour until your leg gains back some conditioning. After weeks of having all your weight on your good leg, you’ll be unbalanced for a while.”
“Aww, your legs match your mental state,” Kit says.
The asshole.
Brady laughs. What a traitor.
“My boyfriends are mean, Doc. Are you single? I might be on the market.”
Apparently, Dr. Arodel doesn’t find me as amusing as Kit and Brady. Maybe I’ll keep them after all.
“Don’t overdo it, okay?” the doctor says. “Take your time getting back on your feet, and don’t skip any of your rehab sessions. Now comes the hard part—strengthening those muscles that have suffered because of the break.”
“That sounds like work,” I complain.
“We’ll make sure he keeps up with conditioning,” Kit says, and I have to admit, that makes it sound more fun than what it actually is because in my mind, they’ll be working my leg real good. In bed. While I’m fucking and being fucked.
Sex acrobatics, here we come.
But no, I’ve known Kit long enough to know he means business. Brady, on the other hand …
I glance over at him, and the smirk on his face lets me know that he’s probably thinking the same way I am. Hey, if having him beneath me while I thrust inside him over and over until I get strength back in my leg is what I have to do, then I’ll do it.
It’s for my health.
I’ve only been free of this thing for ten minutes, and I already feel like I’m getting back to my usual self. A few weeks of having confined movement, no team camaraderie … I’m already going crazy.
The only bright spark in it all is I’ve been able to spend extra time with Kit and Brady.
“Let’s go celebrate,” I say. “Dinner’s on Kit.”
This time when I go to stand, they let me, and motherfucker, as soon as I put any weight down on my leg, my knee wants to give out.
“Let’s get this boot on you,” Dr. Arodel says, and I want to cry. My face must say so because he adds, “You don’t need to wear it all the time. Just when you’re mobile.”
I sigh. “So, all the time?”
“You don’t have to wear it when you’re in bed … Wait …” My doctor glances at my two partners. “You don’t have to wear it while you’re sleeping. How’s that?”
“I hate it.”
“It’s only a few more weeks,” the doc says. “Then you’ll be almost as good as new.”
In a few more weeks, Brady will be back in New York. I want time to hurry up so I can be healed already, but not at the expense of it meaning that Brady has to leave.
We’ve decided to put an actual plan in place for when that happens, but I’m scared the logistics and reality of it all will make one of us or all of us change our minds. What if long-distance is too hard? What if Brady was wrong and Kit doesn’t want to move back home?
Now that I have them, how can I possibly walk away if they ask me to?
I can’t.
Once the doc sends in a nurse to fit me with the walking boot, we’re given the all clear to leave, but I’m still on damn crutches, which makes my mood sour. And because Brady knows what conversation is coming, he’s subdued and withdrawn too.
I have the need to console him, so I wrap my arm around him while trying to juggle my crutches.
“Where do you want to eat?” Kit asks.
“Let’s get takeout and eat at home,” I say. “Brady and I have things we wanna say.”
“You can’t drop that and then expect me not to freak out about what it is.”