Starting from Scratch Read online Lane Hayes (Starting From #2)

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Starting from Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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“O-kay, but why would she call him your boyfriend?”

“I might have stretched the truth a bit…just for fun,” I said casually.

“You mean to piss off your conservative stepmom,” she corrected with a half laugh. “Your plan backfired. She wasn’t pissed. She raved about Charlie. She’ll probably tell Dad, you know.”

“Good. I hope she does.”

Karly let a long silence fill the connection, as though it might magically erase the need for words. I knew what she wanted to ask me. I could have let her off the hook. But it just wasn’t that easy for me. Words could be so hard.

“How do you feel?” she asked after a minute.

I scoffed. “Fine. I have a headache, but it oughtta clear up after my second cup of java. How are you doin’?”

“Fuck you, Ky. You know what I meant.”

“Are you whisper-swearing in front of my niece?” I admonished playfully.

“She’s having a tea party with her stuffed animals. She didn’t hear me, but I hope you did. This isn’t easy for me either, you know. Stop being a dick.”

“What do you want from me, Kar?” I let out an exasperated huff. “I don’t do feelings. Not for him. I’m not a monster, though. If he is dying, I’m not glad he’s dying. I guess I’m numb. I don’t know what to think.”

“That’s fair. I’m the same way.” She paused a beat, then continued in a rush. “I’m going to see him, and I think you should too. And if you don’t want to see him…maybe call him. I’ll text you his number. You don’t have to decide today. Think about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t—”

“Did I tell you I took Lacey on the new merry-go-round at…”

I tuned my sister out and let my mind drift. I listened for the rhythm in her cadence and worked out a beat to complement her high pitch and lilting tone. I moved inside and set my mug on an amp before grabbing my bass from the wall and perching on the sofa arm. I wrestled with the chords until I found what I was looking for, humming occasionally so Karly knew I was still there…sort of there anyway. Once the music had me, I wouldn’t be able to hear at all. But I had to get this down before it faded and a piece of me faded with it.

I tapped my foot on the coffee table for impromptu percussion, then glanced across the sofa and froze. I propped my bass against the amp before leaning over to rescue a black polka dot sock wedged between the cushions. I examined it with a dopey grin on my face. Charlie wasn’t the kind of guy who randomly misplaced a sock. He had a deep appreciation for order that he admitted was borderline compulsive. I could just picture his face…his beautiful eyes, his sweet smile, and his uncanny ability to get under my skin and stay there. It felt like he was with me now. Or like he was supposed to be here.

Any second now, I expected an enormous wave of regret and shame to consume me and remind me that last night was a big fucking mistake. I should have been freaked out by what we’d done on so many levels, but I wasn’t. Most people would have taken one look at my baggage and run for the hills. He stayed. And I couldn’t help thinking he’d saved me…from myself.

I hung up with my sister so she could supervise the teddy bear tea party, then set my bass beside me and took a picture of Charlie’s sock and texted it to him.

I’m keeping this.

He immediately sent a laughing emoji. Where did you find it?

In the sofa.

The other one should be nearby.

I don’t see it. You must have slutty cocks. Sorry, socks. Damn autocorrect.

Charlie sent another round of laughing emojis, then called me.

“Slutty cocks and socks. You officially have my attention. What are you doing?” he asked.

“Missing you,” I replied automatically.

He hummed sweetly as though pleased. “Yeah? I haven’t been gone long.”

“I wish you were still here. I would have made you breakfast, you know.”

“Oh. What’s your specialty?”

“Cereal.”

Charlie guffawed merrily. “So you mean I would have made breakfast.”

“We probably would have gone out to eat. My cupboards are bare.”

“I see.”

“Let me make it up to you. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning at that pancake place on Sunset,” I blurted.

I held my breath and rode out the silence while he mulled over the offer. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What time? You don’t have to tell me now. Text me.”

“Okay. What are you doing today?”

“Standing,” he deadpanned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means my ass is sore as hell, thank you very much. Anything that requires sitting for long periods is out. Don’t ask me to go to the movies and don’t…”

I leaned against the cushion, snickering as he listed the things he wouldn’t be doing today…Charlie-style. I could have listened to him all day. He was so mercurial and fast-moving that I felt honored to have his full attention. I wanted to tease him and ask him a million questions to keep him talking. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he kept those ghosts at bay.


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