Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I glanced up at the starry sky and nodded. “I like being kidnapped. It’s kind of sexy.”
Jake snorted. “Good to know. I’m feeling territorial, but I’m glad it came across as sexy. It feels like we’re constantly with teenagers and hockey players. Do you think any of them saw us leaving the rink together?”
“Dunno. They’ll assume you lured me with Pop-Tarts, put a fork in me, and tossed my body in the lake.”
“Probably.”
We stared out at the calm water, leaning against each other like old friends. Or old lovers. The glimmer of moonlight and the shelter of the towering trees surrounding us evoked a timeless quality—like anything was possible. Maybe even time could stop for a few hours.
So of course I had to ruin it.
“How much longer do we have?” My voice sounded like gravel.
“Four days,” Jake replied.
“What happens next?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will it be over?” I closed my eyes briefly and powered on. “I mean, maybe we just have summer. Every year we could meet here, camp for a week and go off the grid, and resurface to coach the juniors.”
“And during the season?”
“I kick your ass on the ice.”
“Right.” Jake snickered, and released a weary sigh. “I wish I knew how to slow time.”
Me too.
Days and nights were speeding by at an accelerated rate. The summer air was tinged with a cool bite that indicated autumn was closing in, school would be in session soon, and preseason hockey would be under way. I usually loved the change of season. No, I fucking lived for it.
But now…change made me nervous.
“We need a plan,” I insisted.
“What kind of plan?”
“Visitation plan. Like…whenever you’re in Denver, we meet up and—”
“And how do you explain me to your teammates or your neighbors or the press? They’ll all know we’re friends by the end of camp, and that’s all the mileage we can get out of our feud. They’ll be actively discussing our retirement next and which one of us will end up covering games on network TV. And real life will happen too. You’ll probably meet someone and—”
“Fuck that,” I choked out. “You’ll meet someone before I do. Some beautiful girl who lights up when you walk in the room and—”
“Stop.”
I stopped. I was making myself queasy, and this wasn’t the lighthearted banter we both needed.
“Sorry.”
Jake inclined his chin slightly. “We play hockey, Mase. It’s what we do. It’s all about the love of the puck. You’ll be in Denver next month, and I’ll be in Boston. That’s it. I don’t want you to risk anything for me. If you have five more years in the league, make them the best.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll do the same.” He dug into one of the bags and pulled out a box of cinnamon Pop-Tarts. “I’ll come out at some point, though.”
“Really? When?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a plan, but I can’t lie, and I already feel crappy that Smitty knows I’m bi, and I still haven’t told my dad. How fucked up is that?”
“You’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“Hmm.”
Of course, he would, but I wasn’t sure I could say the same for myself. Coming out was…well, not on my short list. It was too big a concept and too fucking scary. Fuck, I was a coward.
I smiled in spite of my uneasy stomach and tore into the Pop-Tart package. “Not to get all new-age on you, but where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“Here. In Elmwood.” Jake took the piece of pastry I offered and nibbled the edges…like a goddamn monster. “Maybe I’ll commute for a coaching job, or maybe I’ll throw my lot in with Vinnie and Ronnie and the guys building the program. What about you? California?”
I frowned so hard I gave myself a headache. “Part-time. Maybe. Eddie won’t move. He’s not a great traveler, and his routine is important. I’ll always have a house there, and I’ll always make time for him, but I don’t have a life there anymore…of my own. Truthfully, I don’t know what I want my life to look like in five years or ten years or twenty years. I never wanted kids, ’cause my mom was a disaster, and I sure as fuck don’t want to continue any negative trends. I don’t see myself getting married ’cause…I don’t think I know how to care about someone enough to last a whole lifetime. The funny thing is…I feel that way about you.”
Jake tore off another piece of Pop-Tart, his sharp gaze finding me in the semi-dark. “You want to marry me?”
I grinned as a warm buzzy feeling floated through my veins. “Yeah, I’d put a ring on that in a heartbeat.”
“Shut up.” He snorted.
“I’m serious.”
“You’re not serious. You’re just trying to make me crazy…as usual. And by the way, these are fucking terrible.” He held up the Pop-Tart and stuck out his tongue. “Tastes like sawdust.”