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)
My heart swelled in my chest as the answer came at me like a bolt of lightning. Yes. It mattered. We mattered.
There had to be some way to have it all.
He stretched his arms above his head and rolled to face me. “What are you thinking?”
“Uh…bread.”
“Liar. If you were thinking about my ass, don’t. I’m too sore for a repeat today.”
I snickered, rubbing his butt before pulling the duvet over us. “Tomorrow?”
“Okay. Tomorrow.”
“That was…amazing.”
“Oui. Amazing,” he agreed sleepily.
“I loved being inside you.” My smile felt too big for my face. “Can I say that, or is that weird?”
“Not so weird. I feel the same about you,” he replied, kissing my nose. He frowned a moment later. “Now what are you thinking?”
“Did it feel good?”
Jean-Claude kissed me and bit my chin. “Yes.”
We held hands under the covers, grinning like fools for no particular reason.
“I had no idea it could be like this. I mean, sex is usually good, but this feels…I don’t know, like—better than usual.” I wrinkled my nose and sighed. “I’ll stop talking now.”
“No, no. I think you’re right. We do sex well.” He squeezed my fingers. “We do a lot of things well.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I scooted closer and lay my head on his shoulder.
A perfect stillness permeated the air. It was warm and safe and required no reason, no answers. It simply was.
And fuck, it was good.
11
RILEY
The week I was scheduled to be back in Seattle, I was cleared to drive.
Thank fuck. And perfect timing, because the temperature in Elmwood had nosedived into the thirties, which made the walk to and from the gym or rink a little tiresome—especially in the snow. I’d happily accepted rides from Vinnie and Nolan…and even a couple of the teenagers who lived in my area, but it was nice to have some independence. And avoid scrutiny.
Three days before I picked up my rental car, a senior they called Big Red—because he was tall and had red hair—offered to drive me home. He happened to live down the street from me, and with the wind blowing snow flurries at a diagonal, it was a no-brainer. He was a good kid and a huge hockey fan, so our conversations generally centered around NHL gossip or tips.
Big Red also happened to be a great forward who’d already signed on with an agent. He might not make it to the NHL or AHL but he had the talent to play professionally, and I was more than happy to give whatever insight I could. Honestly, after weeks of excruciating headaches and sunglasses indoors, I finally felt like myself again and I was happy to talk about almost anything.
“Hey, what’s up with you and the chef? Have you known each other for a while or something?”
Even that.
I glanced over at the muscular teen, whose bushy red eyebrows were half-covered by a green-striped beanie he’d told me his new girlfriend had given him for his birthday.
“No, we met when I was here to help coach you knuckleheads with Kimbo last summer.”
“Oh, right.”
“Why?”
“No reason. I just see him a lot more. I used to think he lived at the diner, man. I’d see him at the coffee shop once in a while, but most of the time, he’s behind the counter or in the kitchen. And that’s kind of weird ’cause you see everyone everywhere here. The mailman was at Rise and Grind this morning and Mr. Shinoi, my Algebra II teacher, picked his daughter up from hockey practice at the rink today. Those are the first ones to pop in my head, but I could keep going. You tend to notice when you don’t see people…like the chef.”
“Hmm. He’s a good guy,” I said evenly.
“Totally. He’s a good skater too. Faster than he looks. I saw him cut you off on a breakaway before our practice the other day.” Big Red shot a mischievous grin my way. “That was freakin’ hysterical. He actually caught up to you. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“He got lucky,” I huffed without heat.
Big Red hooted merrily. “Yeah, right. JC’s cool, that’s all I’m sayin’. I like the JC and Thoreau Show. You should get him to come by more often. But not too much. Gotta give the man time to make poutine. Have you had those fries? Dude. They’re amazing. I order two at a time whenever we go to…”
I tuned him out, humming along while my mind wandered. People here knew Jean-Claude and noticed us, and like Vinnie, had probably put two and two together and wondered if we were more than friends. Two months ago that would have made my head pound and put me in a state of panic. But my mind was clearer these days and for the first time ever, I thought about coming out and you know…it seemed like a good idea.