Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“I’m not following…” I hedged.
He grunted. “Doesn’t matter. Geez, you didn’t sign up for all this. Sorry.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I chided without heat. After a minute or so, I spoke again. “You know, my parents had the big love story too. My mom died when I was five, and my dad has mourned her for twenty-four years straight. His addiction is work. He worked too much before she was gone, but it got worse after. Late nights, always traveling. He wasn’t a bad father, though. He tried.”
“And that’s why you’re here.”
“He offered me a hefty sum, Hotshot. Not NH-fucking-L money, but not too shabby.”
Denny scoffed. “It’s not about the money for you.”
“No, it’s not,” I admitted, resting my elbow on my bent knee. “I love the guy. He stood by me when I came out, accepted me no questions asked. That’s a bigger deal than it sounds like ’cause it involved a small personality transplant and a willingness to change his thinking. And he did. For me. Dad used to be flippant with stereotypical insults—this is gay, that’s gay. I was scared shitless to come out, but I didn’t want to live in the closet, so I gathered every ounce of courage I had, packed a bag in case I needed to make a quick exit, and told him my truth.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen. You know what he did? He gave me a hug. I wasn’t sure if that meant we were cool, so I asked. Dad smacked me upside the head and told me not to be an idiot. Of course we were cool. To which I said, ‘Then quit being a prick.’ We were good until that stupid billboard episode, but I didn’t hesitate when he called me. I’m not suggesting that I was excited about a brief sojourn in Vermont. I wasn’t. But there’s this side story: my dad brought my mom here years ago and she loved it. Supposedly, she joked that he should sell everything and buy a small house here. He could work at the mill and she could tend horses and raise us kids.”
Denny narrowed his gaze. “He bought the mill in Wood Hollow for your mom?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not quite. That’s the story he tells and it’s a nice one, but I know my dad pretty well and if the mill wasn’t a good investment, he wouldn’t have bothered. He pulls the sentimental strings to sway me to do his bidding. It’s a dance we do…the Cunningham waltz. We make deals and we talk around pesky things like feelings through contracts.”
“And propositions.” He smirked.
I bumped his shoulder and laughed. “It sounds cold and calculated. Trust me, I know it does. It’s just how my father communicates. Most of us don’t get that sitcom-perfect upbringing with no scars and no heartache. We get a potpourri of good intentions and bad follow-through. We get fucked over when our heroes die too soon, and we’re left with a parent who can’t cope or have unconventional coping mechanisms. And where does that leave us?”
“Fucked?”
“Maybe, but there’s no point in being bitter or lamenting what could have been. This is where you’re supposed to be now. This version of you—the sought-after, superstar hockey player. Maybe everything was always leading you here. You aren’t the same scared kid who moved to this town, Denny.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve turned into Hockey Man. It’s what I do. It’s my superpower. On one hand, it’s an honor. I fucking love the game. But it’s become my new identity, the thing I hide behind. I know that about myself. I’m all for one thing at a time. I’m not the guy who can be a bunch of things at once. I can’t be an out and proud hockey player and someone’s significant other, so I have to choose.”
“And you choose hockey.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t that suck of me? Some of the best people I know are out and proud. My coaches, my mentors. I feel like I owe them, but I can’t do it. The scrutiny is already so intense.”
“Hey, stop beating yourself up.” I splayed my palm on his knee and squeezed it. “Good thing you’re with me. See, the cool thing about our deal is that I don’t expect you to come out for me, and I never will. You gotta follow your gut. You’ve worked your ass off to get where you are, Den. Enjoy the ride as best you can. And quit being so fucking hard on yourself, sweetheart.”
Denny covered my hand with his and tilted his head skyward. “Thank you. And fuck you. I’m not a sweetheart.”
I chuckled softly, holding his chin as I brushed my mouth over his. “Not so sweet at all. C’mon. Let’s go before the mosquitoes eat us alive.”
Denny nodded, but instead of getting up, he grabbed my shirt, slipped his hand around my neck, and fused his lips to mine.