Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“We went out with girls.”
“No—you went out with girls. I went for the beer.”
“I guess you never did take anyone home. How the hell did I not see it?”
“Because I worked really damn hard to hide it.”
“How could you do this to me?” There was the anger I’d been waiting for.
“I’m still the same guy you served with.”
Mario snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re somebody I don’t even know.”
At least he didn’t call me a fucking fag. “Mario—”
“Don’t say anything else. I need some time to think.” He hung up.
I hadn’t expected him to listen—not really. I’d braced myself for him to curse me out, accuse me of being brainwashed, or tell me I was sick. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to sign me up for some kind of anti-gay boot camp. What I hadn’t been ready for was the pain in his voice—the betrayal.
Now he was headed out on a mission. Who knew when—or if—he’d be back? I thought about calling again, but I knew he wouldn’t pick up. All I could do was hope he’d come through the mission safely, and that when it was over, he’d call me.
The idea that he might never forgive me hurt—but for the first time, I was sure I’d done the right thing.
Now there was one last thing I had to make right.
It was already midnight, but I couldn’t risk waiting until morning. I’d already nearly lost my chance with Jeremy. Waking him up wouldn’t make things any worse.
I picked up the crumpled piece of paper I’d tossed out and pulled from the trash at least three times that evening. I shoved it in my pocket. Taking it didn’t mean I was going to let him read it—but it was time to find out if he still wanted to.
Jeremy
I jolted awake. A noise had woken me. Had it come from outside? I hoped so. There it was again. A muffled banging. Shit! Was someone trying to break in? No, I was overreacting. It was probably a squirrel, or a cat, or my imagination.
I lay rigid with tension for a few more seconds before getting to my feet. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I investigated. The stairs creaked ominously as I stepped on them. By the time I reached the bottom, I was shivering. Maybe I should’ve put on something other than my boxers.
I heard something rattle and my heart nearly stopped. It was the front doorknob. Someone was trying to get in. The lock began to turn, and I launched into action, grabbing the lamp from the table in the hall. It was an antique with a tall iron base. I was no fighter, but maybe I could take the intruder by surprise.
The doorknob turned. I lunged as the door swung open. The man who entered caught my arm just before the lamp made contact with his head.
“Connor?”
His eyes were wide. “I figured you were pissed at me, but I didn’t expect to get my head bashed in.”
Fuck! “I thought you were a burglar. I didn’t even know I had that in me.” My heart thundered. Thank God Connor had such good reflexes. What if I had actually hit him?
“You were ready to defend yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“How’d you…”
Connor held up a key ring. “I still have a key from doing the cleanings. I shouldn’t have used it, but I knocked, and you didn’t answer, and this is my last chance.”
I tried to make sense of Connor’s statement with my still half-asleep brain. “Last chance for what?”
“To convince you not to sell the house and leave. David told me about the offer on the house. Don’t be mad at him. I’m really glad he did.” Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper that he’d folded into a small rectangle. He held it out to me.
The adrenaline rush from thinking I was about to be robbed or attacked had me feeling more than a little disoriented. “Is this a dream?”
“I hope not, because I’d hate to find out I didn’t actually get up the courage to come over here.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?” Connor looked genuinely surprised.
“I am.” I doubted I would’ve been able to leave town without at least seeing Connor again. And now that he was in front of me, strong, gorgeous, but with that vulnerable look that had made me want to take a risk, I couldn’t believe I’d ever contemplated leaving at all.
“Read it.” Connor gestured to the paper.
I set the lamp back on the table and unfolded the note. When I looked at the words, I couldn’t believe it. Connor had written a poem.
Please don’t leave
If you do I’ll grieve
For what could have been
If only I’d cared enough to win
You.
Hot tears burned behind my eyes. I read the poem over and over before finally finding my voice. “Y-you wrote this? For me?” A tear splashed onto the paper.