Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I didn’t mean to force this out before you were ready to tell him…well, me. I’m really flattered. But, I have to be honest…I don’t see you that way, man. We’re boys. Roll dogs.” Fox ran his hand through his black and silver hair, acting awkward as fuck, “I guess I just never saw you like that, in that way…but, now that I look deeper into your blue eyes, you are kinda—”
“Stop right there!” Hart closed his eyes and counted backwards from five. He lowered his voice and glared at Fox. “Do you think I’m talking about you, dipshit?”
“Well, aren’t you?” Fox smirked. “You’re saying you’re into men, so you’ve obviously been checking me out.”
“Damn, I hate you.” Hart shook his head. Asshole.
“You mean it’s not me?” Fox’s brow creased. “If it’s not my sexy ass, then you must be talking about that cyber-hottie God contracted to work for his department at the exact same time that you started tripping all over your feet to get near him. Yeah. None of us noticed that,” Fox laughed. “I knew you’d tell me eventually, and the longer you took the more I decided that I’d give you shit when you did.”
“Thanks for making my coming out completely painful and a huge damn joke.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“So, you’re good?” Hart clarified.
“Did you really need to ask that? You’re my brother, man. For life.” Fox said seriously. “I didn’t tell you then and I think enough time has passed that I can tell you now. But, I rejoiced when your divorce was final. I had my own little private celebration. When you were married you looked miserable when it was closing time. Like you dreaded going home to your life.”
I did most nights.
“That woman was something else. No one liked to see her coming to any of the family functions because of how rude she was to you. Almost as bad as Melania treats Trump. You deserve something good this time, and if Freeman is it, then I say go for it, man. You got my support. And the team’s.”
“I appreciate it, Fox. But you can’t speak for them.”
“Yes, I damn well can! And if any of them don’t like it and want to let their personal prejudices affect working with the team…then they’re out. It’s as simple as that. God’s entire unit is gay. They won’t tolerate that shit either, and you know it. Anyone comes to you on some dumb shit, you just tell ‘em like you always do…‘go see Fox about it’. And I’ll handle it.”
Hart stood and came around his desk. Fox got to his feet, they stood at the same height. They gave each other a pound then a one-armed hug. “Thanks, man,” Hart told him. Having gotten that over with, he felt another one of those boulders roll of his shoulder.
“Let’s get over to headquarters before Dinah has everyone paused on the fight simulator and doing yoga again.” Fox laughed.
Hart
Hart checked his watch for the fifth time in twenty minutes. It was almost two and he hadn’t seen Free yet. He’d been running fight simulations all morning and forced-entry reruns until his lungs burned and his thighs ached. But he was used to it. That was what they did. Practice. Then practice some more. They ran the same forced-entry route over and over until it felt choreographed. Until they no longer had to think about the steps and there were zero mistakes. So, in the field, when they moved in, it was as smooth and precise as a well-rehearsed dance—no errors. His team was the officers’ last line of defense. If they fucked up, all hell would break loose. So they practiced routinely if they weren’t on call.
Hart: Will you let him take lunch already, bighead!!!!!!
He thought about sending two or three big-head related gifs, but he didn’t have time for all that.
Carlos came through his open door, not paying him much attention as he refiled some cases in his file cabinet. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to lunch at one-thirty? Do you want me to order you something?”
Hart’s phone buzzed.
God: DAMN! He left upstairs five minutes ago you impatient, overzealous manvirgin
He wasn’t confined to his desk like his assistant thought, he was waiting on his lunch date. “No thanks. I’m going to the break room right now.”
“The break room?” Carlos frowned. “Okay, since when do you eat in there?”
Hart didn’t answer. He just got up and brushed past Carlos, murmuring something about wanting a cold sandwich. He left his unit and made a sharp left toward their break room at the end of the hall. It was nice and had lots of vending machines, but it was rarely used. SWAT was the only department on the top floor, and with a pretty decent cafeteria between them and the officers downstairs, it stayed deserted. He tucked his phone into his back pocket, wishing he had time to respond to God’s last jab, but he’d reserve that for later.