Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I hiss and squirm even though his touch is soft, and even though I’m in pain, the way he’s caring for me and trying to be gentle as he inspects the ankle makes me want to say screw the ankle and climb on top of him on the coffee table.
Not a good idea.
“What happened?” Leo walks back in, ice in hand.
“Fell out of the treehouse because he’s high,” Ollie says with a laugh. I give him the finger.
“Poor Clark,” Leo says, and I imagine he uses the same level of condescension with the kids he coaches.
Ollie and I cock our heads at each other in question. He turns to his brother. “You did hear—”
“Ollie, Ma wants you out back,” Vic says as he enters the room.
Ollie doesn’t move, just puts the ice Leo hands over onto my ankle. “Yeah, not happening. My b—uh, Lennon needs me.”
“Clark will be fine with Leo. Ma. Outside. Now.”
Again with the Clark thing when Ollie literally just called me Lennon.
Ollie’s jaw hardens. “And I said Lennon needs me. We can sort our shit later.”
Ah, so he’s not really staying for me. He’s avoiding facing his family, and I can’t say I blame him. There’s been miscommunication between them for so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start if I were him.
“Here, let me at least look at his foot,” Leo shoves Ollie out of the way.
Instead of going outside, Ollie joins me on the couch and holds my hand. “Leo studied kinesiology in college. He knows shit.”
“Doesn’t make me a doctor,” Leo mumbles, “but it doesn’t look broken. Can I touch it?”
I nod.
“If it hurts, squeeze my hand,” Ollie says.
As soon as Leo’s fingers press into my skin, I yelp and do as Ollie says.
He flinches. “Ah, I said squeeze it, not break it.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m messing with ya. It doesn’t hurt.” Ollie grins at me.
Leo moves my ankle, slowly rotating it. “Sore?”
“Yeah, but not a lot.”
“Most likely sprained. Keep the ice on it. Twenty on, twenty off. Should be fine in a few days. If not, maybe go see a doctor.”
“Thanks,” I say and go to place my foot on the ground.
Leo grabs my leg and puts it back up on the coffee table. “And keep it elevated.”
“Now you really need to go outside,” Vic says to Ollie.
“Nope.”
Vic grumbles and heads back through the kitchen to the backdoor.
“She only wants to apologize,” Leo says quietly.
“Ma’s version of an apology is weighted with guilt,” Ollie says. “You think I don’t already know what she’s going to say? You never told us we were overstepping. Which I did, but you guys never listened. Or understood, I guess.”
“You never pushed either,” his brother says.
“All of you thought it was because I was embarrassed about being gay and not that I truly just wanted you guys to drop it because there’s not much I can do if I don’t want to risk my job.”
Leo leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “For what it’s worth, we’re all sorry. We never …”
He slumps, and if I had to guess, it’s because he knows whatever excuse he’s about to come out with isn’t enough for years of pretending Ollie’s opinion on this was wrong, even though he’s the only one who actually has a right to an opinion on coming out.
Leo continues. “We never thought about what it’s like for you. I mean, not in depth. It’s easy to tell you to come out, because to us it’s an abstract thing. Which in retrospect is kinda ridiculous when you think about it. I work in locker rooms, and I’ve heard how teenage boys talk. I guess I figured they grow out of it? We admonish them for slurs, but they probably just get smarter about not saying them around us. And just because I don’t have any major issues with my kids, that doesn’t mean problems don’t exist. So, I’m truly sorry for not trying to understand.”
Suddenly, Ollie’s using my hand for support instead of the other way around. His grip is tight, and my thumb runs along his skin in small circles, trying to reassure him.
Ollie seems to relax but doesn’t look his brother in the eye. “Maybe I should’ve tried to explain better before now. Before Lennon …” His eyes meet mine, and his face softens. “I thought no one would understand. The few times I tried explaining it to Ash, he thought I was being petty and making a mountain out of a molehill.”
The back door bangs against the kitchen counter as it opens, and Max is trailed by the twins. Now I’m in a room with all the Strömberg brothers, trying not to get a hard-on. Because seriously, there’s an electric charge when all this Norse beauty is in one room.
“We’re sorry,” Nic and Vic say at the same time.