Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He was disoriented when he came awake, slowly like out of a thick fog. He heard the deep rumble of Fitch’s baritone.
“Leave him there, he’s clearly exhausted.”
Hop had no doubt who he was talking about.
“But shouldn’t we tell him?” Tam asked quietly.
Tell him what?
“No, he’s already feeling guilty enough. Let’s just leave it alone.” He’d never heard Z whisper before; it was strange.
“You sure we shouldn’t wake him?” That had to be Connelly, Z’s detective boyfriend.
“I can drive him back into the city tomorrow morning,” Fitch said.
“Alright, we’ll head out then.” Tam again.
“Bye, henny. Drive safe.”
Driver and Tam said their goodbyes, and a waft of cold air swept through the room as the door opened and shut behind them.
“I hate that I don’t know him well enough to offer anything more than a floor to pass out on. He’s obviously having trouble right now.” That was Ansel.
Hop swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut hard, but it didn’t drown out the sympathy in Ansel’s voice. So much for not dragging his bullshit around with him. Enough was enough. He shouldn’t be listening to their conversation, even if they were talking about him. He took a second to gather his emotions, and then he stretched like a cat.
“Damn, I can’t believe I fell asleep,” he said, putting as much sleepy grumble in his voice as he could. “What time is it?” With all the acting ability he could muster, he blinked around the room like he hadn’t overheard his friends pitying him.
“Almost eleven,” Fitch answered. “Go back to sleep, although you might want to move to the couch.”
Hop rolled to his feet. “Nah, thanks though. I have to work in the morning.”
“Come on, we’ll give you a ride.” Z stood by the front door.
Hop couldn’t meet their eyes so he looked around for his shoes and slipped them on. “Just to the station will be fine. I’ll catch the next bus.”
“Shut up, you’re not riding the bus from Bayonne, NJ, in the middle of the night.”
They said their goodbyes to their hosts and then Hop was literally ushered to Connelly’s sedan, like they thought he’d run away if left to his own devices. It wasn’t like he was a criminal, but for some reason he felt like one as he slid into the backseat beside Jae. He didn’t say a word as they pulled onto the road and started their return journey to civilization.
It was snowing.
Which shouldn’t have surprised him, considering it was January in New York. Snow was a given this time of year, and usually he loved it. He looked forward to the romance of a city covered with a fluffy white blanket of ice, everything so still and quiet, or at least as quiet and still as a city of eight million people could get. But tonight it felt cold. Desolate.
Lost.
Chapter Eight
Hop was running late the next morning. He’d finally fallen asleep in his own bed three hours after getting home, which was two hours before he’d needed to wake up. He’d stared at the ceiling replaying his friends’ words in his mind.
What did they have to tell him? It was driving him crazy.
It wasn’t hard to skip breakfast. He didn’t have an appetite anyway.
“I made oatmeal.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll take a banana.” He stuffed it into his unicorn backpack. “Gotta go.”
With a wave, he was out the door, jogging down the hall to the elevator—earrings jangling and pack bouncing. Early in the morning the ride was full of businessmen and women, all in suits and carrying professional black briefcases.
He stuck out like a glitter bomb.
He always did, though. It was easy to ignore their stares. With his purple hair, fluffy pink coat and plush unicorn bag, he was practically begging for attention. Normally he would have winked or blown a kiss, but he didn’t have the energy today. It had taken everything he’d had getting showered and out the door.
The elevator reached the ground floor and he waited while everyone rushed to exit. As soon as Hop stepped out, he saw Rafe. Backlit from the sun shining through glass his face was hidden in shadow, but the big silhouette was unmistakable.
He stood by the doors, one hand in the pocket of his black slacks and the other around a tall to-go coffee cup from a popular chain. Fuck, he looked good. His leather shoes shone like he’d recently gotten them polished. His dark hair was in perfect order and his clothes looked freshly pressed.
Wealth surrounded him like a force field, keeping the rush of average people at a distance. They broke against the wall of Rafe like a wave against rocks. Most people did.
Hop included.
For one instant, Hop had the urge to duck right back into the elevator and run home. But then he thought about Rafe knocking down his door, of his mother, of having to explain. He took a step forward, then another, and willed his spine not to shake loose while he waited for Rafe to notice him.