Can’t Say Goodbye Read Online Eden Finley

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
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When I get to the edge of the house, I try to find somewhere to put my hands so I can lower myself down in steps, but the smooth brick is impossible to get a hold of, so I’m going to have to do the same as Prescott.

But as soon as I look over at him, his foot rests on the window shade, and I know he’s going to jump down now he’s close enough to the ground that he won’t break anything. I have to beat him. Not because of the blowjob on the line—giving, receiving, I don’t give a fuck. It’s about the pride and principle of it now.

“Call me old man,” I mutter and then let go. He’s barely younger than me.

As if I were a parkour champion, I only need a split second to get my foot in the right spot to turn and jump, hitting the pavement in front of the house.

I stand upright as Prescott joins me on the ground, but because he’s practically in front of the window, the loud thump catches the attention of someone inside. Peyton Miller. Brady’s brother.

Without thinking, I charge at Prescott and tackle him to the hard ground. The window above is open a crack, so we can hear when someone speaks.

“Who’s …” The voice comes from inside, so I roll off Prescott and pull him to the side of the house so we can flatten our backs against the wall.

“Who’s what?” another voice says.

“I … I thought I saw someone outside.” The window starts to slide upward, and I hold my breath. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears.

Prescott looks as frazzled, but we know how to remain still.

Once, we were sent on a mission where we had to lie as still as possible in a swamp in the middle of the Andes and count how many cars rolled by on their way to a coca farm. One move and we would’ve been dead.

That I could handle. This? There’s more than my life on the line. It’s everything that’s good in it. Brady. Prescott.

While I wouldn’t care if Brady’s family found out, he has issues with it, so I can’t ruin this for us. For him.

I’m sure we’re about to be caught out when—

“You’re crazy. One too many footballs to the head.” The window slams shut.

I’m not sure who our savior was, only that it wasn’t Brady’s voice. Maybe it was Four. Though I didn’t hear if he even came home last night. And as Prescott and I crouch down and head for the street, I get a single glance back and see who it was.

Peyton’s partner, Levi.

We met him once when Brady was in college, and Brady assured us he wouldn’t say anything. It’s obvious he never has.

He gives us a mock salute, and I smile back before making our exit.

“What hotel you want to stay at?” I take out my phone from my pocket.

“Ugh. None of them?” Prescott says. “I want to stay back there. With him.”

So do I.

“We have to respect Brady’s wishes though.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Not everyone was blessed with free-loving parents like yours,” I say. “He needs time, and I get the impression it’s not his family he’s worried about but public backlash. He became a sports agent to stay out of the spotlight. Something as scandalous as being in a throuple could derail not only his own career but Peyton’s as well.”

Prescott stops walking. “Is that what we are? A throuple? Eww, are we falling victim to using that cutesy nickname?”

I huff. “What would you rather call us? It’s not like we completely fit it anyway. Because we’re not together together. We’re just … together temporarily. When we’re on leave.”

“When I’m on leave. You’re no longer one of us.”

Even though it’s true and I’ve started my new job, it still sounds weird. Like I didn’t really leave. “I will always be navy. You don’t need to keep bringing up the ultimate betrayal of me choosing to be discharged.”

“Hooyah,” Prescott deadpans.

I throw my arm around his shoulders. Prescott’s only acting out because he can’t have things his way. “Let’s stay somewhere nice, overlooking Central Park.”

“Whoa, Mr. Money Bags. How big a pay increase did you get?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Any job openings for me in your department?”

My heart twinges because I know he’s joking. “What happened to being an abomination for leaving the military to do it?”

“For enough money, I could sell out too.”

My arm drops from his. “Do you really think that’s what I did? That I sold out?”

Prescott slumps. “No. I don’t. I understand the job opportunity part, but it shocked me, is all. You’d never talked about wanting a desk job before. From the second we met during BUD/s, SEALs were our only futures we’d ever mapped out. And … well, I guess I hate your job because it made you move across the country, okay? I miss you.”


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