Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
O-kay…people were definitely whispering and shooting clandestine glances at me as I followed JC outside. Interesting.
“Hey, man. Thanks for the latte and croissants. I—”
“You’re still here!” Riley Thoreau barreled forward, plucking a cup from his husband’s hand. He grinned and raised it in greeting. “I was hoping to run into you. We spent so much time at the rink yesterday that I didn’t get a chance to show you around campus. If you’re free, we can do that now.”
“Oh, um…I want to do that for sure, but I think I’m meeting Bryson this morning.” I set one of the lattes and the bag of croissants on a nearby bistro table. “Are you free this afternoon?”
“I can be,” Riley said. “Just let me know when.”
“That would be cool.”
“Have fun and welcome, Smitty. I’m off to work. Je t’aime.” JC set a hand on his husband’s hip and kissed him on the lips before striding up the street toward the diner.
Okay, whoa.
A gay couple just kissed on Main Street, right in front of me. So casually. So…matter-of-factly. I mean… Wow. That was a new one for me.
I’d never seen same-sex partners up close and personal in public, and not someone like Riley Thoreau. So what if he was retired? The guy was still a bona fide NHL star. He’d hustled for seventeen years in the league, yet the last two were the ones that made headlines. And those headlines included his gutsy coming-out story at a fucking press conference after his near career-ending concussion. That was a whole other level of brave.
I’d never thought about coming out. No one asked about my sexuality, and I never volunteered. That night at that hotel in Syracuse with Bryson was the first time I’d come face-to-face with the low-grade tinge of fear associated with desire.
Maybe it was time to fix that. Who cared if I was bi?
Okay, no, it wouldn’t be easy to deal with the inevitable prying questions. But I think I wanted to come out…eventually. Some day. In the future.
“Talk to you later, Smitty,” Riley called out.
I nodded and took a seat, reaching for the bag of pastries as I settled in to do some people-watching. That wasn’t how it went down. In a twist, I was a people magnet.
Within five minutes, I’d met the fourth-grade teacher, the postman, Penny Henderson, who owned the bakery next to Rise and Grind, and her son, Court, who happened to co-own the coffee shop with his fiancé, Ivan, who I’d met earlier. Court also happened to be a former pro hockey player and was now one of the club coaches as well as the assistant athletic director at the high school.
“We’re really happy to have you here—even if it’s for a couple of months,” Court enthused. “Elmwood might be on the map, but we need talent to stay relevant.”
I decided to be gracious and not mention my perpetually achy joints. “Thanks, man. Happy to be here.”
Court introduced me to a cantankerous tiny old woman named Annie with a cloud of white hair and birdlike features.
“My grandson, Denny, is playing on that team. Don’t fuck it up,” she snarled, winking playfully before shuffling off. So that was Crabby Annie with the bad arthritis. I liked her. I chuckled at Court’s befuddled expression as he waved good-bye.
Buzz buzz
I flipped my cell over and read the new message.
Just checking in. You okay?
Poor Jimmy. I pressed Call, unthinking, a stupid smile stuck on my face. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”
“Fuck off. What did you expect? This is what you get for changing your plan at the last second. Friends who worry. How’s Elmwood? Are you bored yet?”
“Not at all. This place is so freaking cute, you’d love it,” I gushed.
“Cute? Since when do you like cute?”
“Well, never, but so far so good.” I tilted my chin to the sky, soaking up the small-town charm in its summer splendor, ripe with good vibes. I liked this.
“Smitty, level with me. Is this detour some kind of reaction to Rachel?”
“No…maybe. I dunno,” I answered truthfully.
Jimmy sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry you ran into her. I had no idea she was coming over that night. I feel bad and Christina—”
“Don’t be an idiot. It’s fine and I’m fine.” I wasn’t, but that was on me. Not Jimmy. “I haven’t done anything impetuous, so don’t worry. It’s just a detour.”
Silence.
Poor guy was probably squeezing the fuck out of one of those stress balls he kept on his desk.
“All right.” He sighed after a long moment. “If you need anything, call me.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. Give Christina and the kids a big ol’ smooch for me.”
“You got it.”
I pushed my cell away and continued people-watching. I had no idea how long I sat there, but I finished my latte, decimated the croissants, and was eyeing the drink I’d planned to give Bryson, when a shadow fell across the table.