Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Did you break into his place and refuse to leave until you got what you wanted? I’ve heard that works on some people.” Brady’s words were light but his expression was one of concern.
“How about tricking him into an empty threesome mansion while naked? Did you try that? Don’t be subtle now, Younger. We are not the subtle Finns.”
Ken chuckled. “Are there any subtle Finns? Fiona have you met any?”
The bartender mimicked zipping her lips as she walked away from them. For his sake, Solomon knew. He really needed to apologize to her for being such a dick.
“I haven’t been that subtle, but he’s had us on lockdown. No promises, he said. I’ve made them, but I haven’t asked him for any because I don’t want to screw this up.”
He pushed his hair back and groaned into his hands. “I’m too fucking old not to know how to do this. He wanted to set rules and I said fine, let’s have rules. Then he says forget the rules, let’s see where this goes. Great. I’m here for that too. Now I can feel it slipping away, and I want to fight for it, for him, but what if I’m already pushing too hard and he’s not ready for more?”
“And people say relationships with women are complicated,” Rory muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the two men talking quietly at another table. His men.
“Believe me, they are,” Fiona interrupted, biting her lip and backing away with an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”
“No stay.” Solomon reached out his hand. “We might need some professional help here. Just don’t tell Wyatt or Thoreau.”
Her smile curved in understanding. “I don’t tell them everything. I promise you can trust your bartender. Talk to me. You’re doing that more now, I’ve noticed. It’s good.”
He swore softly. “I’ll talk if you tell me what it means. The way he’s put me off all week, is it a test? Am I supposed to bash in his door and claim him or do I wait to prove I can stick things out? I’d give him what he wanted if I knew what it was. I owe him that.”
“You owe him? Why?”
He could feel everyone staring at him and it made his cheeks flush. “Because I’m the fuck up here. When he was ready for a relationship, I was too busy being Chief Finn, the guy who didn’t acknowledge he had needs. The robot…”
“What?” Ken said. “I think I saw a light bulb explode over your head.”
“I caught that too,” Fiona murmured. “Epiphany Central.”
Was that it? Everything had been fine until he’d called to talk about meeting the mayor and the possibility of taking his old job back. “I have to go.”
“I just got here,” Rory said plaintively. “I had this whole paying it forward Finntervention speech about deserving love ready to go.”
Solomon got to his feet with a laugh, mussing Rory’s hair the way he had when he was little. “I’m sure it would have been epic. But I’ve been around for a few of those recently. I think I have the gist.”
“Ever the damn buzzkill.” But Brady was smiling and looking relieved.
“That’s me.”
Before he got to the door Ken grabbed his arm. “Younger wait.” He slid the flash drive in his jacket pocket. “You’ll need this. Kneecap the son of a bitch before he has a chance to talk to the press.”
“Bloodthirsty, but thanks.”
He might not need it. He might not be going back at all. Everything depended on Hugo.
***
He was curled up on the couch with Bronte’s latest blanket, eating caramel corn and staring blankly at the television.
Alone.
What the hell was the point of living with or next to most of his siblings if none of them were available to distract him when he really needed it?
Hugo could usually count on Bronte, but even she’d abandoned him, with no hint as to where she was going or why. Austen was on another date and Thoreau, well he was usually busy and he barely slept in his bed as it was, so he couldn’t complain about it now.
But he wanted to.
He was pathetic. Without anyone here to talk him out of it, all he could do was think about Solomon and wonder if he was making the right decision by backing away.
It was hurting them both and he knew it. All the ignored phone calls and excuses were dick moves he’d have judged people for in the past, but he couldn’t make himself stop. It kept hope alive, and he needed that hope right now. He couldn’t cut Solomon out completely. Not yet. Not until he knew.
Maybe he should pick up more overtime. Thoreau had a point. Sleeping was overrated.
He reached for his phone to text Bronte again, when he heard someone knocking on his door. His heart sped up, wondering if it was Solomon.