Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I kept my hand in his for the rest of the flight. It was something I would have done anytime in the past, throughout our friendship, but fuck, holding his hand now felt different. I was hyper aware of the way his slightly bigger hand felt on mine, and suddenly, my brain was conjuring up all sorts of explicit fantasies: Jack holding my hands and pushing my arms up above me on a wall as he kissed me, or gripping my hands tight as he dropped low to suck me off like he had in my dream.
Suddenly my heart was pounding, too, and it had nothing to do with the turbulence.
Was my mind running wild with these sexual thoughts because I was sad to be moving away from my best friend? Or was all of this somewhere in me, waiting to be explored, and I’d ignored it because I was so used to the idea that I was a “straight guy?”
All I knew was that I was confused as fuck, and lately, turned on as fuck at random times.
There was only a slight bit more shaking as we made it safely to the ground in Colorado. Jack released my hand from his grip, and I missed it a little, even though he’d been holding it tight as hell.
“We’re here,” I said. “Welcome to Colorado.”
The moment we were out of the plane and into the airport, it was like Jack was back again. I witnessed a side of him I’d never seen before—apparently, Jack Damien was a bit of a tourist. Each time we walked by one of the little gift shops that I tended to ignore, he would get sidetracked, looking at little Colorado trinkets and keepsakes. He stopped to buy two shot glasses with the Colorado flag as we waited for my older brother to come pick us up.
When Shawn finally arrived we tossed our luggage into the back of his truck and set out on the drive back up into the mountains west of Denver. Shawn was only a couple of years older than me and had always looked similar to me, but he was the clean-cut version. When I was a kid, in my head, I’d always assumed that meant Shawn was “better” than me. His hair was the same color, but a little shorter and styled perfectly. He had no tattoos. His clothes were always fresh and new, unlike my own, and he had a nice pair of aviator sunglasses on top of his head as he greeted us.
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Shawn was saying to Jack, who I’d let take the passenger seat. “Tristan wouldn’t shut up about you when he was here last month.”
“Is that right?” Jack said, giving me an amused glance.
“He basically all but said you’re his hero,” Shawn said with a laugh.
“I did not,” I protested.
“Said you got him on his feet, years ago,” Shawn continued.
“Well, that is true,” I admitted.
“Tristan and I got along from the moment we met,” Jack said. “I’m honored to get to meet the whole family now.”
“Prepare yourself,” Shawn said. “Mom is in full visitors-are-coming mode. She made me go to the grocery store three times this morning to find the perfect tomatoes for her homemade salsa.”
“Oh, God, that salsa is good, though,” I said.
“I think you’ll fit right in, Jack,” Shawn said. “You’re a general contractor just like me and our other brother, Nathan. From what Tristan told me, it sounds like you’ve been able to accomplish a whole lot in your career, already?”
Jack and Shawn broke off into a long, in-depth conversation about their careers, comparing and contrasting the different rules and regulations for Kansas general contractors versus ones in Colorado. It turned out that the two of them had a lot more in common than I’d even known.
In fact, hearing Jack talk with my brother actually made me feel like I was getting to know my brother better, too. I’d spent so long away from my family that I was still so curious about their adult lives, about who they’d become over the last twelve years, too.
As we drove, the traffic and city highways of Denver slowly gave way to the two-lane roads that twisted and turned up toward the mountains. Pine trees dotted the landscape, and even though it was summer, the highest mountains still had the tiniest bit of white on their tips. The route only got more and more beautiful as we wound our way upward toward Jade River, and I could see Jack leaning to stare out his open window, amazed at the sights.
“This is incredible,” he said softly as we got close to our little town. “I knew it would be pretty up in the mountains, but it’s like a dream.”
“That’s how I felt when I came back here, too,” I said. “I took all of this for granted when I was a rebellious kid and teenager. I didn’t give a shit about pine trees or beautiful sloping mountains or fields full of wildflowers. I just wanted to figure out where I could steal handles of liquor.”