Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I dropped into the chair next to his and handed over a bag of M&M’s.
Walker’s lips switched. “My favorite.”
“I know.”
“Thank you.” His smile was weak, but it gave me hope.
I bumped his elbow playfully. He slipped his arm through mine, opened the bag of candy, and laid his head on my shoulder.
This time, my heart soared. I’d never been this publicly affectionate with a man. Maybe I should have felt a twinge of panic at the newness, but it didn’t occur to me to feel anything other than grateful he was mine.
Okay, not really mine, but close enough.
We were attached at the hip all the way home. I carried Walker’s luggage, opened his car door, and drove us to Smithton. It was a long ride, and we were exhausted and hungry by the time we’d stumbled in the house. I ordered takeout, then joined him in the shower. We ate Greek salads and gyros and sat side by side on his sofa, watching some weird documentary about migrating caribou.
Later, I undressed him slowly, and for the first time in my life, I made love to someone with intent. There was so much I couldn’t say, but I wanted Walker to know I cared. I cared a great deal. I wanted him to know I wasn’t going anywhere.
I moved inside him, thrusting deep as we kissed and stared into each other’s eyes. Could he feel this too? This was something, right? It was special. I knew it.
And I couldn’t help thinking we were going to be okay.
CHAPTER 22
WALKER
The vibe on campus was always strange after a long break. It was challenging to reacclimate to a new class schedule and come up with titillating content for What’s New, Smithton? The nice thing about having exposure and experience was that my audience brought ideas to me now.
The women’s volleyball coach reached out with an offer to give me a lesson in exchange for a team interview. A home boutique opened on Delta Road, and the owner wondered if I’d like a tour. Yoggi’s Yogurt rebranded itself as a pie shop in the winter months…a new development and not one that students had fully embraced yet. Was I interested in covering it?
Yes, yes, and yes.
There were always a few oddball requests in the mix. For instance, the owner at the bead store held jewelry-making nights every Wednesday in January. Was I interested in coming to one…with my boyfriend?
I’d been getting a lot of questions about my personal life, come to think of it, and I wasn’t a fan. The peculiar thing was that Ty and I hadn’t spent much time together in public lately. He’d been busy with hockey. The Bears had played a series of road games over the past two weekends, which left us with a few sleepovers and the occasional stolen moment between practices and classes.
I didn’t think twice about the “boyfriend” comments…at first. There were rumors after the first time we’d had dinner together at Vincento’s. Most people assumed we were continuing our collaboration efforts, but it was probably normal to wonder if there was more going on.
However, as far as anyone knew, we hadn’t seen each other in a month. Why the renewed BF chatter now? I was curious for sure, but I had bigger concerns.
Ty’s news that the Jackals’ PR team had connected the dots and knew who my father was alarmed me. It felt like a threat, but I couldn’t figure out the angle.
Aunt Kay hadn’t been worried in the slightest. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but I think you might be overreacting. Does it really matter if your online fans know your dad is a former hockey player? It seems like it might actually be good for business, as they say. Regardless, don’t worry about your father. No one is getting to him. He’s perfectly safe here.”
Ty had agreed. “She’s right. In the unlikely event that info gets leaked, it’s not terrible news. He’s not a mass murderer and hey, once upon a time, he was a famous athlete. I’m not minimizing your trauma, I swear. But I think it comes down to your response…how you own it. You don’t have to discuss his health or your relationship with him. You acknowledge it and move on.”
“What about you?”
“Your dad being Ketchum Clomsky doesn’t affect me professionally. You and I are friends. My friend has a famous hockey dad…cool. There’s nothing more to it.”
I wasn’t so sure, but maybe they were right. I’d held a lot of resentment toward my father for many years, stuck in a purgatory where love was diluted by fear of abandonment and anger. You’d think I’d happily feed my dad to the wolves in retribution for neglect, but no…I felt fiercely protective. And contrary me found that immensely irritating too.