Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Boone, on the other hand, was pure, classic male beauty. The angles of his face could have been drawn by Michelangelo. The cut of his cheekbones probably had numerous poems written about them. They definitely had countless orgasms attributed to them (amongst other things about him). He had dark blond hair that was a thick swath on top, short on the sides and brilliant green eyes.
Oh yeah, and he was tall and built, but instead of being Mo’s six five, or Mag’s six four, he was probably around six two.
Auggie had not turned out to be a disappointment. It was no wonder women treated him like a god. Thick black hair that curled quite a bit around his neck, black eyes, olive skin, dense brows with a perfect arch, long stubble, sublime nose with slightly flared nostrils and a generous mouth, even I would be down with worshiping at the altar of him. And I had all that was Mo.
He was slim, not slight. Sinewy. Not an ounce of body fat on him (not that the others had any). And he was the shortest of the bunch, including Axl. Auggie probably measured in at six one, whereas Axl slotted in at number three, behind Mo and Mag, who, at my guess, was six three.
In normal circumstances, this was a lot to take in of a morning.
At that time, I didn’t even think about it.
“Mornin’, Mac,” Boone said.
“Yo, Lots,” Auggie said.
“Hey, girl,” Mag said. “Want some breakfast?”
“Mo and I are going out later,” I told Mag. “But thanks.”
Mag looked to Mo’s door.
“Trail run,” Auggie declared, and my gaze went to him.
“Sorry?”
“Going up into the mountains to do a trail run, babe,” he said, shoving a sausage link into his mouth, biting off a chunk, chewing a bit and saying through it, “Not a marathon.”
“Oh. Right,” I muttered, standing at the side of the island.
“Mo still asleep?” Mag asked, not hiding, if Mo was, Mag would be surprised.
I looked right into his eyes. “No. He’s working out.”
Mag stared right into mine.
He knew why Mo was off working out when I was in his bed.
They all knew.
They had a trail to conquer.
And I had a mission.
An important one.
So no fucking around.
“He had a dream,” I told Mag.
The relaxed feel of the room took a hike as I watched Mag’s handsome face grow troubled.
Okay, so they were also in the know about Mo’s dreams.
“I knew about them, he told me. But it’s his first with me,” I shared to Mag.
“Right,” he muttered.
“I didn’t know what to do,” I admitted.
Mag turned his attention to the men sitting on stools at his island.
I did too.
“Do you guys dream?” I asked straight out.
Auggie was studying Mag.
Boone shook his head at me.
“It’s just Mo who gets the dreams,” Mag told me.
Shit.
They might not be able to help.
“Mac, just be there for him, yeah?” Boone suggested.
“How do I do that?” I asked him.
“Don’t tell him to get on some pill so he won’t wake you up when he gets outta bed would be a good start,” Auggie muttered.
God, I seriously really hated Tammy.
“She’s not like the others, Aug,” Mag clipped at his friend, then looked to me. “But Auggie’s right, Lottie. So is Boone. Just be there for him. Listen if he’s willing to talk. Be cool if he isn’t. Press it if you can but back off if he’s not down with it. And let him do what he needs to do to deal, like getting up and working out.”
“And if it gets bad,” Boone cut in. “Talk to one of us. We’ll wade in.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“You don’t get it,” Mag said.
I looked to him.
“And you can’t get it, Lottie,” he continued. “And that’s good, darlin’. Seriously good. That said, it doesn’t help seein’ as you don’t get it. What he’s going through but more, why he’s going through it. You have to be able to get it to help.”
“Misery loves company,” I replied depressingly.
“Just that, babe,” Boone put in.
I stared at the marble countertop of the island, wanting to think happy thoughts, seeing as my mound of hunkalicious boyfriend loved me.
But I was not thinking happy thoughts.
Auggie caught my attention by speaking.
“You know, it helps that you give a shit, Lots. It might not feel like it. It might get frustrating. But it does help, even if you don’t feel like it is. And it should get better. Mo’s dreams might never fully go away. But he’s been out a long time, they have gotten better since I’ve known him, and he’s developed tools to deal with them. If he tries something new, being with you, hopefully they’ll come less frequent. Just give a shit and don’t give up. If it was you, he wouldn’t.”
No, he wouldn’t.
I believed that totally.
“I like to be more hands on,” I shared, and Auggie smiled.