Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
See? My head is definitely fucked up.
The thing is…I feel an unexpected fondness for him. He knows what it’s like to take care of someone you love, to keep that to yourself because it feels like it’s yours and you don’t want attention for doing the right thing. In a strange way, he almost feels like he represents this sort of freedom I haven’t allowed myself to have. I don’t mean because I want my dick in his ass either, but because he’s not attached to Steph or Zane or even work. Frankie is my friend but he’s still attached to my responsibilities that are always fucking there, hanging over my head.
Derek is just…Derek. This crazy, wild hurricane I don’t want to evacuate for. An adorable twink with a tight ass that I—fuck. How did I get there again?
“You’ve been quiet today. Everything good?” Frankie asks and I shrug off the question.
“Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you wanna talk about?”
My multiple weekly visits to the nursing home. Paying for that and helping Zane. Trying to figure out what the fuck I want. Oh, and Derek. “Nope,” I reply. It’s not as if I’m sharing all of that with him.
“Why am I not surprised by that?”
“My ex-wife would say it’s because I’m a little closed off and carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I just don’t like telling people my shit.”
Frankie laughs, and I chuckle too. “I hear ya there. You know I’m always here, though. And I also plan to take you out pretty soon. I won’t accept no for an answer.” We turn down Cypress Street. “See that place?”
I look over to see a large condominium that I’ve walked or driven by hundreds of times. “Yeah?”
“It’s Metropolis. Gayest fucking building in Midtown. You log on Grindr right now and you’ll find whatever you’re looking for.”
I have no idea why he’s telling me this. “Are we back to my sex life?”
“No.” Frankie shakes his head. “But I’m hoping to get a place there, so I wanted you to know where you’d have to help me move if I do.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You love me,” he counters. “I’ve given you months to get your shit together, but I’m not waiting much longer. Pretty soon I’m going to start forcing you to have some fun. You can enjoy life and still make responsible decisions and take care of the world, Jackson. If anyone can find a way to do it all, it’s you.”
It doesn’t escape my attention that he’s the second person in one day to basically remind me that I’m not doing shit for myself. Hell, I’d even planned to get a tattoo a while back. Went in once to check out designs but I haven’t made it back. Why the hell haven’t I gone back? “And if you get a place, helping you move is supposed to be that fun thing I enjoy?”
“No. Helping me move is your duty as my friend. I’m just making you aware of other things too.”
“Who said I’m your friend?” I tease.
“I did. Frankie knows all.”
“Frankie is dreaming.”
Just then, we get a call. All fun and games are over as we make our way to a three-car accident.
It’s a mess when we get on scene, and I know from one look that this one is going to hurt.
Frankie and I both spring into action like always. There’s no time for anything else at the moment.
“Don’t move, okay? I need you not to move,” I tell a woman lying on the ground. “Did someone help you out of the vehicle?” I ask.
“Yes,” she croaks out.
“You’re gonna be okay. We’ll take care of you, okay? Me and Frankie? We’re real good at this. We’ll take care of you like you’re our own.” Tears stream down her face and I can see the thank-you in her eyes, the fear too. Blood drips from her head. We look her over quickly and ask questions before putting a brace on her neck.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Lydia.”
“Lydia, I like that name. I’m Jackson. Frankie is going to lift you just slightly, okay? And I’m going to slip this board under you so we can keep you real straight. Once we get ya on there, we’re on our way to the hospital and they’re going to fix you up.”
“Okay,” slips roughly from her bloodied lips.
“You tell me if anything hurts, Lydia—ten is the worst pain in the world and one is hardly any pain at all. When we’re done, I’m gonna let you rank me, and if I don’t get a good score, I have to be at Frankie’s beck and call for a day. I don’t wanna be at Frankie’s beck and call. He’s real needy.”
Her chin trembles, but she gives me a small smile. I always try to use names as much as possible because it makes people feel more comfortable. Like they’re being taken care of by someone who knows them and cares about them.