Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“In October?” he guessed.
“Oui. Although, the camping story about the tent and the lightning is true also,” I confirmed. “Anyway, I was alone, hurt, and I could have hurt someone else. I could have hurt a lot of people. I thought to myself, ‘Oh, you got lucky,’ but I was still planning to hurt someone, right? I was going to marry a woman I didn’t love. There were formal invitations for friends and family to witness this mistake in the making. For the first time, I realized my secret would cause real pain. So…I blew it all up. Everything. I called off the wedding, quit the team, went home, came out to my family, who by the way, still think I might have been hit one too many times on the head.”
“Are you close to them, or did coming out change things?”
“They’re good people. They love me and accept me, but I confuse them.” I shrugged and continued, “Not in a bad way. I simply took a new path and started over far from home. C’est la vie. Now here I am. Maybe they’ll visit me someday. We shall see.”
His expression was comically endearing—a funny combination of awe and perhaps admiration. “Jesus, you’ve lived like three lives in forty years.”
“Sometimes it feels that way,” I admitted with a sigh. “The hockey years weren’t honest years. Looking back now, I know I was young and lost. I gave up the parts that were bad for me—too much drinking, partying, and women—and I took an interest in food. How to prepare it, how to enhance flavors, how to make something for others to enjoy. Also…I started dating men. And you know what happened, Riley Thoreau?”
He stood beside me and leaned against the counter, so close our shoulders touched. “What?”
“I became a happier man. Now, I’ve been told I’m a little too cranky sometimes, but that’s because I don’t like stupid very much—stupid people, stupid rules, stupid socks…”
“Stupid socks?” He laughed.
“Don’t get me started. The point is…I’m not proud of the man I was fifteen years ago. Maybe I should have brought up hockey, but now you know why I didn’t lead with that bit of information.”
Riley nudged my elbow, then kissed my right biceps. “God, I think you’re really fucking cool.”
I snorted. “Yes? I tell you that terrible story, and you like me more?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I hooked my arm around him and squeezed. “And I think you are…incroyable—lovely on the inside and out. You shouldn’t apologize for being exactly who you are. You might be injured, but you are not broken. Not even a little.”
He closed his eyes and cuddled close, burying his nose in my neck. I raked soothing fingers through his hair, muttering sweet nothings in French as I pulled him into a warm embrace. Our kisses were lazy and unhurried.
We parted with shy smiles and held hands for a moment before tidying the kitchen and locking up for the night. I showered while he brushed his teeth, sharing pieces of his day over the sound of the spray. He didn’t talk about hockey, though. He told me about Ivan’s latte art du jour…triple hearts that resembled an atomic bomb. He raved about the beautiful foliage on Main Street, the canopy of orange, red, and yellow, and how fun it was to kick at the leaves like a kid.
I used the toothbrush he’d given me a week ago, nodding or grunting in acknowledgment as he chattered away. He’d never been this…chatty. It was tempting to tease him, but I loved the sound of his voice. Deep and masculine, melodic and animated. His joy was a palpable thing, and I was pleased he shared it with me.
We crawled into bed naked, tangled our limbs, and drifted to sleep.
It all felt so…perfect. Like something I hadn’t known I’d been looking for.
Dangerous thoughts to have about someone like Riley Thoreau.
Everyone in town knew Riley and I were friends now. They probably assumed we’d met at the diner and bonded over food, which was true. No one seemed to think it was odd to see us having coffee at a bistro table outside the coffee shop or even strolling from the diner into town. But walking into the El Rink together turned a few heads.
“Those kids are staring,” I grumbled, winking at the kids huddled outside the main entrance.
Riley adjusted his sunglasses and waved. “Be nice. They’re like ten years old. Maybe they’re hockey fans. Are you sure you don’t mind taking over for Vinnie? I know this wasn’t how you planned to spend your day off.”
“I don’t mind, but I warn you I’m very rusty…and my skates might not fit. I’ve gained weight everywhere.”
He snorted. “I doubt you gained weight in your feet.”
“Hmph. We shall see.” I nodded to the teenager behind the reception desk. “I’m making brioche french toast tomorrow at the diner, Erica. Tell your brother and your parents.”