Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Which might have been why I didn’t realize Harry had gone quiet. I glanced over the rim of my teacup and did a double take when I caught his concerned look.
“What’s wrong?”
Harry smiled. “Not a thing. But if you have anything you’d like to talk about, I’m more than happy to lend an ear.”
“No, I’m fine,” I lied.
He nodded, then skirted the island and patted my shoulder. “All right. I need my beauty sleep. As you can tell, I’ve got a few years to catch up on. Lock the door when you leave and set the alarm and—”
“Can I stay?” someone who sounded like me blurted.
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ll see you in the morning. I bought some wonderful croissants at the bakery. I’ll make eggs and…”
He listed menu possibilities with a smile on his face like he actually didn’t mind that I’d shown up out of the blue and asked to spend the night. He looked perfectly unfazed, like he had after every fucking tantrum I’d thrown as a teenager. How was that even possible?
“Harry, why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Why do you let me in and let me ruin your night? My mom isn’t even here. You don’t have to be nice to me for her sake, so why don’t you tell me to pull myself together? I wouldn’t put up with me. Why do you?”
“Because I understand,” he said simply.
“Geez, that’s what Kendra said. She doesn’t understand a thing, and I really doubt you do either. You’ve been married to Mom for a while but you don’t know anything about me. Not really.”
“I know the important things. I know you’re a hard worker, a smart young man, a good friend, an excellent son, and you’re a leader. What did I leave out?” he asked cheerfully.
I hopped from the barstool and paced to the bank of windows. Moonlight reflected off the pool and sparkled across the water like glitter. The sense of déjà vu hit me hard. I wished Sky was here. I wished we were naked in the hot tub, staring up at the stars, talking about superheroes and cartoons with our feet tangled. I wanted him. I wanted hockey. I wanted friends who would accept me for who I was. My dad used to tell me that setting goals was half the battle. But he hadn’t been talking about real life. He’d been talking about hockey. And Harry…he still thought there were four quarters, and I’d heard him call a goalie a catcher more than once. So what did he understand exactly?
“You left out the part about being difficult, contrary, and an asshole in general.”
“You’re not an asshole, Colby. You’re playing with the cards you’ve been dealt in the best way you know how. And when I say I understand, it’s because I’ve been in your shoes too.”
I furrowed my brow and huffed. “I don’t think so. You’re the happiest person I’ve ever met. If it’s rainy, you say it’s great for the garden. If your toast gets burned, you say you like the extra crunch. Nothing bugs you. Nothing. My life is screwed. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I want something I can’t have unless I give up the one thing I’ve always wanted. I don’t know how to find the sunny side and get on with it. I’m nothing like you.”
Harry cocked his head thoughtfully. “I didn’t say we were alike. I said I understood. I’ve had my share of heartache. I’ve had dark days I wished would swallow me whole.”
“When they canceled Friends?” I snarked.
“No. I lost my first wife and our five-year-old son in an accident thirty years ago.”
“Oh. Geez, Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You never said anything and—”
“Why would I tell a young man who’s grieving about my own loss? You lost your hero, Colby. You lost your home and your sense of stability. I know what that feels like. I understand your pain. I’ve felt your pain. But it’s not my place to tell you how to grieve or how to cope. I can only assure you that you aren’t alone and that you have my support no matter what. I’m not your father. I don’t want to take his place. But if I can help you, I will. I’ll open my home, my wallet, my refrigerator…whatever you need. No questions asked. If you have anything you want to share, I’m more than happy to listen.”
“Why?”
“Because once upon a time, good people listened to me. Some offered friendship or a shoulder to cry on, a few offered their sofa when I couldn’t bear to go home to a quiet house. I’m grateful. And I’m not just willing to help you, I want to help you. If I can—”
“I’m bi,” I blurted.
“Okay.”
“And I’m with someone. A guy. He’s important to me,” I continued cautiously.