Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Hayes falls down on top of me, the two of us torso to torso, his load between us. I rub my hand up and down his sweaty back as he tries to get his breathing under control.
“Was it good?” he asks.
“It was fucking perfect.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hayes
So…I have a boyfriend. My first one. I don’t count Malcolm because despite believing it was real at the time, it was obviously nothing but a lie. Rylan is funny and kind. He cares about his family and would do anything for them. He donates to important causes, which I know because I googled “interesting Rylan Pierce facts” when I was bored one day. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. There was this one time where he noticed a kid at the airport wearing his jersey. Rylan must have been able to tell he was sick and went over to him. When he heard the kid’s story, he spent time with him—more than once. He rented out a rink and played hockey with him. He would call and check on him and even went to the kid’s house…and he never spoke about it. At all. He didn’t do it for attention; he did it because it was the right thing to do, and the only reason it came out is because the family talked about it after the boy got healthy again.
My heart nearly exploded when I read the story…or at least turned into a big ball of swoon.
I’ve never swooned over anyone in my life.
These are the things I think about as I’m sitting in first class on a last-minute flight to Portland. I got a call early this morning that there’s an issue at the Rockwell there I need to deal with. Rylan is on a three-game road trip—St. Louis, Chicago, Dallas—and part of me is glad for the distraction in Portland because I’ve realized something: I miss Rylan when he’s away. I’m not sure how I didn’t catch on to that before. Call it denial or not being in touch with my emotions or lack of experience. Maybe it’s a combination of the three, but all I know is, I’m bummed that my superhot boyfriend is out of the state, and the feeling is too familiar for it to be the first time.
These are just part of a list of what Rylan does to me that is…interesting? Frightening? All of the above? I never used to miss Malcolm when I was away on business or when he was lying about being out of town for work and was really fucking one of his many other boyfriends.
But now I have Rylan, which is mind-blowing, but I’m not going to argue with him if he wants to date down…and I’ll even pretend I believe it can last, that whatever it is about me that makes other people not connect with me won’t eventually get in the way with me and Rylan too.
Now that I’ve obsessed about my boyfriend enough, I pull out my laptop and begin looking through the information sent to me about the Portland Rockwell this morning.
Nonstop from LA to Portland only takes about two and a half hours. There’s a car waiting for me at the curb when I arrive.
“How was your flight, Mr. Rockwell?” the driver asks, holding his hand out for my bag. Even though this is how I grew up, I always feel strange when someone wants to do something like open a door for me or put my bag in the trunk. It feels pretentious, but I also don’t want the person to feel like I’m trying to insult them while they’re simply doing their job.
“Not bad, and you can call me Hayes. Mr. Rockwell is my father. How was traffic?” He seems a little surprised at my response before a small smile pulls at his lips. The air around us lightens.
We make small talk, something I’m not very good at, as he drives me to the hotel. During the quiet moments, every time I look up, he’s glancing at me in the rearview mirror. The curiosity in his eyes is hard to miss. Oh. My back stiffens, and I can’t help feeling on display in the worst possible way.
“I was really sorry to hear about your situation last year. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
And there it is. Why would someone bring up the most embarrassing moment of someone’s life? The thing is, he’s sincere. I don’t doubt it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Doesn’t make me feel comfortable talking about it, even if he is trying to be nice by being supportive.
“It’s over and done with,” I reply simply because what the hell else do I say? The rest of the drive to the Rockwell, I busy myself on my phone. He doesn’t try to talk to me again.