Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Speaking of his mom, Shane reached over and looked at his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or text from her.
Van spun away from him then. Shane thought he was going to move away but instead he straddled Shane’s lap. Shane cupped Van’s ass and wrinkled his nose at the intense eyes Van looked at him with.
“You take your phone everywhere with you. To whatever room you’re in, wherever you go,” he said.
“What if she needs me?”
“Who do you go to when you need someone?” Van countered and Shane shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t always be.”
“I have to be. You know that too. When you grow up a certain way, when you live a certain way, you have to make sure you’re okay because you’re the only one who’s going to do it.”
“Yeah,” Van replied. “I know.”
He knew because he’d done it too. He left to make sure he was okay.
“But damn it’s good to have someone there who’s always got your back. I’ll have your back, Shane.”
His throat suddenly felt parched. His pulse tried to beat its way out of his skin. He knew Van meant it, but he also knew it wasn’t permanent. Van being there at all wasn’t. But for now, they could pretend.
“Come ’ere.” Shane tangled his hand in Van’s curls and tugged him closer. He gave Van his mouth, let him lead the way as they slowly kissed each other.
Van’s arms went around Shane’s shoulders, and Shane’s dick got hard. Van’s was too. He felt the hard length against his stomach, but it wasn’t about sex.
When they pulled away, Van told him, “I’m serious, you know?”
“Yeah.” Shane leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Van’s chest. “I know.”
“Has there ever been anyone? Anyone who was there for you?”
His first thought, of course, was Caleb, which was pretty sad considering they’d been teenagers. “Yes.” Caleb had been his best friend. His only friend. He was there for Shane the best he could be. He would have been there for Shane even more if Shane had let him.
“What happened?”
“He left. That’s what always happens.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Van spent the night. The next night and the night after that too. It became a series of nights, that didn’t end at three. Every morning when Shane went to work, Van would make the drive back to his mom’s house, where she would make up a reason not to pack with him or for him not to accompany her when she went to look at houses.
He still hadn’t read the letter, but he hadn’t gotten rid of it either. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he hadn’t. She didn’t ask him again, but he figured she didn’t have to. She knew the answer regardless.
His mom had thrown herself even more into all her activities around town—the ones she dedicated her life to when Van was growing up. It was good in a way. She was doing more and becoming more like her old self, but on the other hand, she was burying a lot of shit too…like the fact that her husband hadn’t been a good man. That he’d hurt Van.
So he did shit around town while Shane was at the shop. He’d chatted with Libby more and discovered they liked one another a lot. He’d spent some time with her husband when he’d gone to Lucky Rose to see her, and they got along well, too. He saw a movie in the old theater and went hiking to take photos. He found random places to paint.
Every evening he’d meet Shane at his house. He’d paint in Shane’s kitchen, where he painted the Last Chance sign for Annie. Shane invited him to his studio where Van got to watch him blow glass. It was incredible to see Shane in his element like that, in that secret world of his that no one knew about other than his mother and Van.
He took photos of Shane every day—hundreds of them. Of him walking and smiling. Of him naked and clothed. He’d taken pictures of Shane jacking off, and Shane posing for him, of Shane shaving and laughing, and photos of their hands entwined. Each time Shane started out camera-shy as though it was the first time Van shot him. After a few shots, he lost himself to becoming Van’s muse. That’s what he was, Van realized. Shane had become his muse, and he wanted to document all their time together.
It was another link that connected them in some way. It was like they communicated, like they showed more of themselves to each other through Van photographing him.
“Good morning,” Van said to his mom as he sat at the table in her kitchen, drinking coffee.
“Good morning. Spent another night with that boy, I see?” she asked with her brow raised. It was another argument they had daily.