Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I raised an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see me. I had met Gabe’s friend Hunter on several occasions over the years and had watched him flirt with more than one beautiful woman. “I thought Hunter was straight?”
“Straight-shmate. I mean, hypothetically, anyone could have a sexual awakening at any moment, right? So it’s entirely possible that my best friend could conveniently have one just in time to keep Tilly from setting me up with her cardiologist again. Or her ophthalmologist. Or podiatrist. Or whatever the hell other poor gay man she’s managed to snare in her web.”
I shook my head to force myself to focus. “The pictures. The journal pages.”
The teasing tone disappeared from Gabe’s voice. “Yeah. They were on Jake’s phone, not Shay’s. And you owe me for having to look at a thousand pictures of teenage girls making a duck face in various selfies.”
“Gabe.”
“What’s going on out there, Wolfe?”
“Listen. Whatever you saw in those photos—”
“I didn’t look.”
It would be impossible not to see at least some of it, if only to make sure he’d found what I needed him to find. “Okay, but—”
“Wolfe. I’m incredibly good at keeping secrets.”
“What if Jake sent copies to another location? Or uploaded them to a drive? Or has a backup in the cloud?”
“I’m running all of that down, I promise. He’s not sophisticated enough to get this shit past me, but it would help if I knew how long he’d had access to the journal. Could there be another set of pictures from a different day?”
I explained the journal had gone missing three days ago, so it couldn’t have been before then. He assured me he would be able to take care of it.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I told him.
“I can imagine. But Wolfe…” He paused to take a breath, and I could tell he knew way more than he was letting on.
“Yeah?” I said, bracing myself for a lecture or warning.
“You can let people see you, you know. The real you. And if people don’t like it, they can just walk on by.”
“I know that—”
“Do you?” he challenged. “You care so much about others, babe. You spend your days making people feel safe and happy and understood. Your family. The folks you help at the foundation. The millions of people who hear your songs and know they’re not alone—”
So he did know I was Fletcher Coe. Of course he did. He probably had for longer than I even realized.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a damn thing. I love your big heart, Wolfe. But…” Gabe hesitated. “When you focus on other people as much as you do, it’s easy to forget this is your life. And you deserve to feel safe, and happy, and understood too.”
I swallowed hard. “I do feel that way.” But honesty compelled me to add, “Sometimes.”
Mostly when I was with Trace. He saw me, better than anyone ever had. And I never doubted that he liked what he saw. But even with him—
“Hard to be understood when you haven’t been fully honest about who you are or who you love,” Gabe said, like he could read my mind.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. “Yeah.”
“So maybe… do something about that?” he teased gently.
I wanted to argue that it wasn’t that simple.
But it was. It just wasn’t easy.
I’d spent two months on the road trying to figure out what I wanted from life, but I already had everything I wanted. An amazing family. An epic career. A man I loved, who’d shown he’d climb any mountain to find me and stand beside me come what may.
The only thing holding me back from living that life was my own fucking fear.
Fear of disappointing someone. Fear of rejection. Fear that I wasn’t enough.
Those fears were very real. And conquering them wouldn’t be remotely easy.
But I wouldn’t be doing it alone.
And the alternative—a life where I kept locking bigger and bigger pieces of myself away—that was so much harder.
Gabe paused as if making sure I was listening. “Not every song is for every listener. But when a listener finds just the right song for them… it’s like fucking magic.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. To groan at the after-school special of it all. But I was too busy silently blubbering to say a word.
“Okay,” he said after a beat. “Anyway, I’ll run this down for you. And if you decide that our Jacob Mason needs a little petty cyber revenge on top of it, you know who to call.”
I laughed through my tears. “Appreciate it.”
“Am I going to see you at the music festival in Legacy? We’re flying out in the morning. I know your dad doesn’t play till day after tomorrow, but it opens tomorrow night.”
I paused, taking a minute to process his words. “Wait, it’s already the Spring Sling?”