Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
As it turned out, the last note contained zero magic, because someone had jotted down fucking Minnesota? Seriously? If it hadn’t been for the fact that we were currently sucking ass, I would’ve gotten as high and mighty as we used to deserve to be. Minnesota saw us as rivals; we didn’t see them at all.
Two minutes before the game started, I was the lucky recipient of fifty bucks. I pocketed my original ten plus another, and then I handed Ben thirty.
“What’re you doing?” He frowned. “You won.”
“Because you gave me the answer!” I laughed. “Don’t be an idiot. This is more your win than mine, man.”
He couldn’t possibly see this as a handout.
He was reluctant about it, but he pocketed the money eventually.
Great. Now we could focus on winning the game.
I had to get out of here. I’d allow myself one last night, and then I was gone. Because none of this was real. It was a painful flashback to simpler times. More than that, it was a glimpse into a reality that didn’t belong to me. This was Trace’s life.
I didn’t work here. I didn’t live upstairs. I didn’t have the energy to scream at a TV.
But man, I fucking wished I did.
Trace and Jamaal shouted at our shitty play along with the rest of the patrons, while the knot in my stomach just grew. As did my envy. With Trace, I didn’t know what was worse. The fact that I wanted to start my life over and be him, or that I wanted to be with him. Because fucking hell, it was attraction this time around. He wasn’t a sweet woman with a kind smile who’d helped me in the ER. He was…crass, all male, hardworking, disgustingly generous, funny, and so goddamn beautiful that I constantly caught myself staring.
He had a hunger for life that balanced perfectly with a dose of working-class reality. I didn’t know what his dreams were in life, and I had no plans to stick around to find out, but I bet they were right up my alley. I just had a gut feeling that he was exactly the man I’d once wanted to be. Just…fuck, a place to call home, a job I enjoyed, money to catch a game every now and then, maybe a road trip with…
Alvin had wanted to see the ocean since he was little, and by the time I’d been able to afford it, Lindsey and I had started realizing we were reaching our expiration date. I’d been downright depressed, and she’d been understandably fed up with my inability to talk about my problems.
By the third period, I needed some air. We were down by four, and nobody was ordering anything, so I slipped out the kitchen door and into the hallway. After a quick bathroom break and drinking some water, I opened—or not. I frowned and gave the door a shove instead, and that worked.
The icy cold from the alley was a relief. A feeling that wouldn’t last long, but now I welcomed it.
I created a pile of snow with my boot to prevent the door from closing properly, and then I trailed down the stoop steps and filled my lungs with frigid air.
Fuck. Just yesterday, I had hated the cold with every fiber of my being. And here I was now… But that proved how fast an illusion could reel one in. Even though tomorrow’s worries were on my mind, I’d been able to push them out of sight to some degree today. I’d known this morning that I’d have a couple nice meals. I’d known I wasn’t going to freeze my ass off. My clothes were clean. When I asked Trace later if I could take a shower before I went to bed, I had no doubt he’d say yes.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. I should shave, but I wasn’t going to. I needed everything that kept me warmer. Without a car, I’d have no choice but to seek out options I’d managed to avoid for so long. It happened, of course. I’d spent the night at O’Hare. I’d spent more than a few nights riding the blue line. I’d been robbed when I’d foolishly fallen asleep at Union Station once. I’d accidentally stumbled upon a turf war between two bums fighting over a heat exhaust in Lincoln Park, and it’d resulted in me limping to the nearest urgent care with a stab wound in my calf.
I’d thought those days were over. I’d bought that car two years ago, cheap as fuck, constantly something wrong with it, but it’d been a place to sleep, and I’d found it easier to get jobs if I could expand my search field geographically.
I’d look into what kind of transit card I needed to buy tomorrow. The thirty bucks Trace had given me offered a bit of relief. I’d be able to see Alvin. Which settled it; he liked trains, so fuck the bus. Maybe I could convince him to leave the house.