Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I walked over, stood behind him. He smelled like rain and wildflowers on a spring day—something uniquely him. It was a scent I recognized, a scent I knew, and I had never realized it was something I was familiar with until that moment. It was mixed with the soft musk of a cologne he didn’t usually wear, but maybe now did because he’d been meeting someone to have sex with.
“Hey,” I said. When he still didn’t turn around, I said it again, softer, with an unexpected plea in my voice. “Hey.”
Callum turned. He leaned against the counter, but he was still close, so fucking close. I hadn’t noticed I’d moved so near to him. “I would never shame you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like I’m uncomfortable with your sex life. It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about that way, and it threw me. But you’re my friend, and you can talk to me about anything. Hell, you’ve listened to me enough.”
His eyes glistened slightly.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” He shook his head, swiped at his eyes to dry them. “No, not at all. You’re a good friend, Knox. And like I told you before, you’re better at talking than you realize. It was just…a strange day. I had a much needed conversation with my mom, and then the whole preparing to meet up with someone only to be stood up. I’m being stupid. We’re fine. Let’s finish eating.”
He tried to walk around me, but I reached out, put a hand on his waist. Callum’s breath hitched, and I thought maybe I held mine. “You’re not being stupid, but yes, I want to feed you. I can’t believe you missed dinner for that asshole.” He looked up at me, and I winked.
“Fucking tops. They just don’t get it.” His voice was lighter then, more playful, but it didn’t sound real.
“Sit. Eat. And tell me what happened with your mom.”
So that’s what we did. We went back to the table, and he told me about their past—about when she found out he was gay. “And today was nice. We worked in the yard together. I swear this town is trying to kill me. But for the first time we talked about guys, and it just…it felt good. It made me realize how much I’d missed her. How much we missed out on because I couldn’t fully let go of my anger from the past.”
“Which you had every right to feel. Plus, you’re letting go now. That’s what matters.”
“Yeah…yeah, I guess so.” He smiled, glanced away. “Thanks, Knox.”
“You, um…have something.” I motioned toward his face. Callum went to wipe what looked like pizza sauce but missed it. “Here, let me.” I reached over. It was weird and almost in slow motion. I watched my hand ease close to him as if I wasn’t the one controlling it. I touched his cheek, which was soft, so fucking soft and warm, and…different. I swiped at the pizza sauce with my thumb. His eyes fluttered, his thick, dark lashes against his skin. There was this jolt of…fuck, something. I jerked my hand back as if he burned me.
“Well, that was embarrassing. I’m a bit of a mess tonight. At least it happened with you. My friend. And not some guy I was…”
“Hooking up with,” I finished for him, that tightness returning. “Wanna come out to the barn with me?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure why. “I can show you what I’m working on.”
“Yeah.” Callum smiled. “I’d love to.” Then he stood and gave me his back, and somehow I felt cheated out of something, like the movement had put a barrier between us and that he’d done it on purpose.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Callum
I was so fucked, it wasn’t even funny.
I wanted Knox. There was no pretending. It wasn’t even just wanting him in bed, though I wanted that too. It was him. I wanted to date him, to be with him, and there was only one way this could end for me. It wasn’t good.
We went out to the barn. He turned on the lights and asked, “Do you want something to drink? I have beer and water in the fridge out here.”
“Water is good. Thanks.” I went over to the shelf where he had his work and studied the pieces. Knox came over and handed me a bottle. “You really are talented.”
“Thanks. I like woodworking. Gives me something to do.”
“Gives me something to do, he says, like he’s not creating gorgeous pieces of art.” I looked at him and winked. “I wish I could do something like this.”
“You stitched my son’s hand. You take care of people who are sick. That’s a little more important than hardware-store owner who plays with wood in his barn.” Oh, the things I wanted to say to that comment. Knox apparently realized how it sounded. “Shit. I didn’t mean…”