Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Harper wanted to go out drinking tonight if he was back on base. Oh hell no. Zack’s stomach roiled. It would be a while before he could touch booze. And it was entirely possible he wouldn’t be able to taste Fireball again without thinking of Pike and the way his neck muscles moved when he swallowed and...
No. Bad influence, remember? Don’t go getting all sentimental. He moved on to the next message, one from his mom.
Saw the Snodgrasses last night. Leslie says hi. Thinking about you, as always, and praying for you daily. So proud of you. Call when you can.
Fuck. Talk about a guilt sandwich. In less than 120 characters, his mother had managed to pack quite the wallop. First, there was Leslie from church, a pretty enough sweet thing who always followed him around when he was home and who Zack couldn’t work up feelings for, despite how happy it would make their collective sets of parents. Then there was the not-so-subtle reminder of the religion that underpinned his parents’ lives, and the heavy mantle of being the good son, the one who got all their pride and prayers and support. Undoubtedly Danny had fucked up again, and that was why she was hoping he’d call. Oh and the pinch of the reminder that he’d been avoiding calling home the past few months.
He typed a fast I’ll call you soon message and hit the road, stomach churning around the cheap coffee because he knew it was Saturday morning back home, knew he could have caught her at home before she ran her errands easily, but he simply couldn’t cope.
The farther he got from their tiny Little Rock suburb, the less he felt connected to that life. Not that he loved his parents any less, more like he simply couldn’t work up a lather over Danny’s latest screwup or the horror of the church getting a new minister. And all his parents’ dire predictions of the “West Coast lifestyle” seemed a bit silly the more he got to know people. His social circle had surfers, vegans, drinkers, and yeah, gay people, and no lightning bolts had hit him yet.
And none found him on the rest of the drive back, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was letting his family down, wasn’t worth all their pride and prayers and hope. The sick sweat of wasted regrets made his T-shirt stick to him, and he’d needed a shower hours ago. He could have showered at Pike’s place, but somehow that felt too...intimate.
He stopped in his room at the barracks barely long enough to grab a change of clothes and a towel before heading to the shower room. His single might be tinier than his parents’ walk-in closet back home, but at least he didn’t have to share. He shuddered at the thought of sharing with someone like Cobb.
He scrubbed his skin hard as he finished up the shower. The water like always was barely tepid with sucky pressure, but he managed to get clean. He emerged from his stall only to find Cobb waiting for him, lounging against one of the tile walls. Fuck. Had he conjured him up just by thinking about him? Zack blinked but nope, the bastard was still there, sly smile on his face. Given the weird Saturday midmorning hour, they were the only two in there. Danger. Danger. Zack tried to step around the bigger man to get his clothes, but Cobb blocked his path.
“Thought you were back.” Cobb’s voice was heavy on the deep South drawl. He was from somewhere in rural Georgia, a place that grew giant men along with peaches. Cobb was easily half a foot taller than Zack, something he never failed to exploit by looming over him, wide shoulders blocking out the sun.
“So?” Zack pulled his towel a bit tighter around his waist, one hand firmly on the knot. This wasn’t his first trip to this particular rodeo.
“My boots need shining. And I’ve got laundry to do.”
“This is my problem why?” Zack tried to manage a sneer.
“Because.” Cobb got a grip on Zack’s biceps, twisted hard. He’d have a bruise tomorrow for sure. And despite knowing a half dozen different ways to throw Cobb off, Zack’s insides froze, muscles and brain locked up with the same icy fear that always struck when Cobb got ahold of him.
“I still haven’t told,” Cobb said conversationally before his tone slipped back to nasty. “But I could.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zack tried to keep his voice from wavering but failed miserably. As always. What was it about Cobb that got him all twisted up?
“You’re full of shit. You and I both know what I saw. And if I tell, you’ll get the shit kicked out of you and no one’s going to have your six.”