Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 81248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Well, what did you expect from me?”
“Ezra at least gives out hugs when people feel like shit.”
I bite off my comment that I’m not Ezra, because I’m taking it that was West’s way of asking for what he really wants. So instead, I slide a bit closer and tug him to me. With West warm against my chest, my arms tight around him, that trickle of nerves starts to come back, and I want to laugh at how ridiculous I am.
I don’t get nervous.
Ever since college, I taught myself to face what I want and go for it in all aspects of my life. If a guy was interested, great. If not, too bad for me. Butterflies don’t fit in that equation.
“You’re all stiff,” he complains. The rasp in his voice starts to make something else stiff, but I ignore it and try to force myself to relax.
“Sorry, but it’s not every night a six-foot-one wall of muscle shows up at my door for hugs.”
He snickers into my shoulder, and feeling some of the tension leave him makes me wrap him up tighter. “I bet they would if you let them.”
I want to answer his flirty tone with something of my own, but given the shit headspace he’s in at the moment, I let him go and say, “Tell me about them. Your siblings.”
“The twins are …”
I wait for some kind of term of endearment. So what he says takes me by surprise.
“Psycho.”
“Psycho?”
“I don’t understand them, and I can’t tell them apart. They think it’s hilarious, but it makes me feel like a failure. All they do is fight, but if anyone says anything about the other, they’re the first to jump in and defend their twin.” His lips turn up in affection.
“What else?”
“Hazel’s quiet but the most tuned-in. She’s always on her computer with her headphones on, but she’s like a hawk. She watches everything and sees everything. If we ever need information, she’s the one to go to.”
“She sounds sweet.”
“She is. Which is why it hurt so much to hear of people picking on her.”
“I bet.”
“Then there’s Rhys. He’s so fucking smart. He’s in all these advanced math classes at school—”
“Wait, math? Say it isn’t so!”
West laughs. “Truth. Have no idea where he got it from. My stepmom must’ve had those genes. But Rhys is also thirteen. He has the attitude of a teen and has a tendency to run to his girlfriend’s place without telling us. He just takes off without warning.”
“Ah, young love.”
“Then Zoe. She’s so dependable, but responsibility stresses her out.” He sighs. “Shit. I shouldn’t have left her.”
“It sounds like you two have the stressed thing in common.”
West stands. “I should go back.”
“In a minute. You need to calm down a bit first.” I pull him back down next to me.
It’s clear by the affection in his voice that he loves his siblings more than anything, but everyone needs a break every now and then. “And Asher?” I prompt when he doesn’t immediately mention him.
“You know Asher.”
“I know the distracted short fuse who takes my class, but I have a feeling that’s not who he is. Just like you’re not the asshole who usually goes around barging into people’s offices.”
His face colors. “Shit. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”
“Don’t be.” I look him in the eyes. “It worked out okay for me.”
A smile starts to build on his lips that he quickly stamps down as he lazes back against the couch. His hoodie pulls up a little, exposing the skin above his pants, but I refuse to let myself look. I’m getting to know him, which is almost as thrilling as when we fucked.
“Asher is … well, yeah, he’s those things. But he’s better with the kids than I am. It’s like he really wants to try—with school, with our siblings, with hockey—but he’s so terrified of failing he always holds back. I’ve never been like that. And sometimes it’s like he resents me for it.”
“He resents you for his own self-sabotage?”
“I think Dad had a lot to do with it.” His tone gets heavier, and I want to pull him to me again, but I’m not sure I can do that and keep him talking. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes off his lips. “He loved us, but some of the things he said … maybe one day you’ll be in the NHL like West, keep working hard and you could be like West … that’s not the kind of thing Asher ever wants to hear.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Not specifically.”
I wonder if he’s ever voiced any of this before. “Who else do you have to talk to?”
“No one.”
“Ezra?”
He quickly looks away. “That’s complicated.”
“You slept together, didn’t you?” The thought mildly irritates me, even though I’ve read the countless rumors about them.