Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I had a nice kitchen with a big island, meant to be used for other things than dumping mail. A cozy living room slash dining area with an open fire. Three bedrooms upstairs. A big backyard where I was supposed to let a dog or two run around, but I’d been too busy working to look into pet shelters.
I ran a hand over my head and picked up my phone again, and I replied to Colt.
Sorry, I’m too busy throwing out TV dinners and planning changes in my life to come tonight. But I’ll be at the munch tomorrow, and I solemnly swear to sign up to join the Game.
I didn’t have to idle outside Waffled for long on Sunday morning before Gael hurried out.
He looked extra nervous today, all bundled up in mittens, beanie, and down jacket. “Good morning.”
“Morning. You okay?” I waited till he was seated and had the belt on before I pulled away from the curb.
“Um, yeah. I guess. I just get nervous before a big social event.”
I nodded in understanding. “Were you nervous before Caleb too?”
“Not to this degree,” he said. “I could be shy at first, but then I relaxed and…yeah.”
I wanted to see that side of him. I’d seen glimpses of it yesterday, and it’d been impossible not to smile when he was happy.
It wasn’t my place to get attached, or to make him happy, but at least I could keep him safe. Hence, why I’d all but insisted I pick him up this morning. He shouldn’t have to worry about anything.
“You really didn’t have to pick me up, sir,” he said.
“I wanted to.” I also wanted to flirt with him and turn his polite “sirs” into “Sir.”
It was possible I needed to get laid.
It was also possible I’d spent too much time observing Gael’s interactions online.
“I watched your latest Falklands War debate unfold last night,” I admitted. “I don’t know who that AlphaDom69 is, but you crushed him.”
Gael let out a gigglesnort and promptly slapped a hand over his mouth.
Too cute.
“I’m sorry, but with a name like that, he deserved it,” he answered. “He annoys me so much. Like, he throws himself into these calm discussions with arguments he’s so sure of, and they’re almost always wrong.” He grinned out the window. “I liked when Greer called him a fuck-knuckle.”
Yeah, that’d been a well-placed punch.
“Do you know Greer?” he wondered.
“Not really,” I said, slowing down before a red light. “I mean, we’ve crossed paths, definitely. He’s dating an ex play partner of mine.”
“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him. “Archie? Corey?”
“Sloan,” I said. “We used to co-Top subs together.”
Sloan and I had been perfect together in the way that we’d only been interested in casual playtime. He’d been balls deep in surviving his ex-wife, and I’d…had too much work.
“Maybe you know Cam and Noa…?” I side-eyed him. “They’re in Mclean too.”
“I know who they are.” He nodded. “Noa’s super funny. We joined the community at the same time.”
Noa was fun. A wild little thing. Last I heard from Sloan, Noa and Cam were finally with the two men they’d pined after for so long. Together with KC and Lucian, they formed a poly-house much like Greer, Sloan, Archie, and Corey.
“So you were with Noa and Cam?” Gael asked carefully.
I inclined my head. “For a while. I guess we were each other’s kinky waiting room. Noa and Cam were hooked on KC and Lucian from afar, Sloan had issues with his ex-wife, and I…”
I sighed.
Saying it was just too much work would’ve been bullshit.
“And you, sir?”
I smiled ruefully and eyed the rearview. “That’s a boring story. In short, I’ve been mentally exhausted from work, and it’s kinda bled into everything else in my life.” I threw him a glance to gauge if I should continue or cut myself off, but his eyes showed nothing but interest. And possibly concern. “I’ve done everything half-assed because everything’s felt half-assed. A burger’s been 75% delicious instead of one hundred, I’ve slept okay but not great, music’s been all right but not fantastic, I fall asleep to movies I usually love. Things like that.”
“I think I understand.” He nodded slowly. “Maybe you’ve been burned out?”
The term had certainly come up with my therapist before I’d retired, along with depression.
And I kept hearing I was too young to feel like an old man.
“Either way, it’s a slow recovery, but I’m getting there.” I sent him a quick smile. “All the waffles I inhaled the other day were definitely 100%.”
He flashed a goofy smile that was so free of awkwardness and anxiousness that I lost my resolve. Would it be so wrong if I showed my interest? If he backed away when I stepped forward, I’d have my answer—no harm, no foul—but it felt like a fucking waste to not do anything at all. Because what if.