Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Pete scrolled an assessing eye over him. “You look wrecked.”
“I came straight from the airport.”
There was an acknowledging glance at Carl’s suitcase, and a tight nod.
“I thought you were acting off these last few weeks. I couldn’t understand your sudden fascination with the sergeant. Turns out, it wasn’t you at all.”
Carl wished, desperately wished, he’d practiced this conversation with Grayson, too. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Why?” Pete asked.
Carl blurted, “I was pretending I was okay with it. That it didn’t hurt every time I saw you together. But, back then, it did hurt. And I couldn’t bear being your best man, so I . . .”
“Dreamed up the insane plot to have your brother act in your stead?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was too much?”
Carl paused at this, frowned, and slowly met Pete’s gaze. “Why didn’t you know?”
The disappointment in Pete’s eyes shifted to uncertainty and he looked away, swallowing. “You’re right. I should have.” His brow crunched. “I was so lost in Nick, I . . . I became selfish.”
“You became selfish, and I became stupid. I’m sorry for lying to you, Pete.”
After a few quiet moments, Pete murmured, “Did I break your heart badly?”
Carl’s throat stung. “At first it seemed dashed to pieces. Irreparable.”
“At first?”
“I’ve had a lot of conversations over the last few weeks. Each one has been piecing it back together. Not only fixing it but making it stronger. Now it beats harder than it ever has before.”
Pete observed him quietly.
Carl had been reflecting on those conversations; he hadn’t realised he was smiling. He fingered the curve at his lips, and it deepened.
“Who’s that for?” Pete asked.
Carl looked over at him, and laughed. He stood and took hold of his suitcase.
Carl spent the night in his own house and had dreams, lots of them, all of Grayson in grey, staring at him with insanely dark eyes. Carl kept running towards him, but every time he got close, poof, the guy vanished. It was all extremely irritating. So close to toppling into him, so close to a few moments of pleasantness . . . Honestly, it was like Dream Grayson was teasing him. There was even the quirk of his lips each time Carl narrowly missed flattening him to the ground.
Carl woke cursing the Scorpio for stirring him up. Grayson would have to take responsibility for this.
So he texted Grayson something along those lines.
It wasn’t enough. There was something else he had to do.
He found his trusty bike, pumped up the flat tires, and raced into town. As he hit the centre, his convenience store in sight, a familiar, spine-chilling “Oi!” had him coming to a whooshing, tire-squealing halt.
Oh, hell. Not even twenty-four hours, and he’d already incurred the wrath of Sergeant Owen.
“What have I done now?”
Owen folded his arms. “You’re back, I see.”
“And despite falling for my twin, you’re set to give me another ticket?” Carl looked around, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.
Knuckles rapped his helmet. “I stopped you out of sheer shock. You’re wearing one of these.”
Carl hopped off his bike, leaned it against a bike stand and took Toto off. He’d been surprised to see Grayson’s trusty red helmet stowed away inside his luggage. And unnerved. Had Grayson thought of this as a parting gift? In case Carl . . .
He crushed the helmet close to his chest, like it was one of those popping-out hearts that he was trying to rein back in. This was why he was racing here. He needed to see Jason. Tell him he’d got himself in a few predicaments back in Wellington. Get his okay about things. Tell him he was going back.
Ideally, he should’ve barged into his neighbour’s place last night and talked then, he’d be halfway back by now. But . . . Sergeant Owen could be scary. He’d glimpsed the two entering their place entangled in one another’s arms, and wisely decided against interrupting.
Said neighbour, the town policeman, his soon-to-be-in-law-probably, was still speaking. “. . . you.”
“What?”
A slow blink. “You haven’t changed that much. I was saying thank you.”
“You’re thanking me?”
“For being an idiot and thereby making me the happiest man in the world. Your brother—” Owen’s smile dazzled. “He’s quite something.”
“Quite something?”
“My everything.”
Carl was all out of sorts. He wasn’t used to Sergeant Owen without a chastising frown. But if it meant fewer tickets in future, and if it meant Jason had found love and was happy . . .
He smiled and nodded.
Owen shook his head. “Off you go.”
Carl dashed for his convenience store.
“I also am well-pleased with my new heart; and really, that was the only thing I wished in all the world.”
L. Frank Baum
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Chapter Seventeen
He was coming clean.
It’d been half a day and a night travelling back to Wellington, and it was very early in the morning, but Carl had decided this.