Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Walking back inside, he shut the door quietly and went to the bed, plugging his phone back in. Climbing into the bed, he covered up as Alex rolled over, wrapping his arm around his waist.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Wells said softly, kissing Alex’s temple. “I had to call my mom.”
Alex smiled against Wells’s jaw. “Is she still so excited?”
“She is,” Wells said as he closed his eyes. “So am I.”
He hoped Alex believed his words.
Because he didn’t.
Four
Six months later…
Staring in the mirror, Wells moved his tie along his neck as he watched Vaughn behind him, shaking his head at Jensen. “It was an accident.”
“You threw fucking glitter in my mouth!” Jensen yelled, still spitting some of the glitter that Vaughn had, in fact, doused him with. While it had been extremely funny, it wasn’t when Jensen threatened to kill Vaughn. Then it got a bit scary since Jensen hardly ever got mad. “I’m going to be spitting glitter all night.”
Vaughn chuckled. “And if you swallowed any, you’ll be shitting it!”
Jensen’s face broke. “Ha, yeah. I’ll send you a picture.”
“Awesome.”
Idiots.
But Wells couldn’t really contribute to their conversation, not when his nerves were at an all-time high and his heart was pounding in his chest. Was he really doing this? Was he going to marry Alex? Biting his lip, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t back out. His parents would be livid…and, plus, Alex was good for him. He loved him. He did.
Didn’t he?
“Boys, I need your help,” his mother called, poking her head in the room. “Wells, you too, honey.”
She was gone before he could agree. He watched as Vaughn and Jensen left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Looking back at his reflection in the mirror, he was unsure of the person who stared back at him. He almost didn’t like himself. He felt like a fake, which made no sense whatsoever. He loved Alex. That was that. There was nothing else that mattered.
But he couldn’t stop thinking of Matty.
Or better yet, of the first time he saw him…
Running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, Wells leaned on the boards as he watched the play in front of him. They were down by one, needing to score to tie so they could ultimately win. But Wells was finding that he was having a hard time paying attention. That wasn’t like him. He was always focused, leaving everything off the ice but the game. This was his career, his dream. But he couldn’t help it, his gaze kept drifting to number fifty-one on the Rangers’ side.
Haverbrooke, which was the name printed above his number, was undeniably beautiful. He was masculine, so thick and big. He was gorgeous. This was a first occurrence for Wells. Sure, he found lots of men good-looking, but when the guy met his gaze, his turquoise eyes mesmerizing during warm-ups, Wells had a hard time letting that go.
He wanted to know him.
He wanted to touch him.
And then some.
But he knew darned well that someone that gorgeous, that strong, along with that talent, was more than likely straight. Which was depressing. All the girls got the good ones. Though, Wren would say it was the other way around. Looking over at the Rangers’ bench, he found Haverbrooke had come off the ice. But unlike Wells, he was watching the play. His brows were pulled in, his jaw tight as sweat dripped down his cheek to his jaw and then onto the ice.
God, Wells wanted to lick him.
“Hey faggot, what you looking at?” one of the Rangers’ guys called.
“Ah, fuck off,” Wells hollered back, spitting on the ice. “You weren’t calling me a faggot last night.”
His teammates all laughed, his buddy Manahan smacking him on the back. “Don’t give them any fuel. I really don’t want another fine for laying someone out.”
Wells smiled as he nodded. “I hear ya.”
They shared a smile just as their lines were called. Manahan was an enforcer, a good guy, real tough, and a really good friend. They weren’t as close as Wells would like, but then Vaughn and Jensen took up so much of his time. Well, actually, just Vaughn did. He was such a diva.
Hitting the ice, Wells rushed to get back, replacing his defensemen as his forwards peppered the goal with shots. When the puck came back to him, he passed it over to his partner, Williams, before he sent it up to Manahan, who passed it off to Linnim. Linnim looked around, looking for an opening, but there was none. When it came back to Wells, he quickly looked to Williams, but he didn’t have the lane either. Needing to get it off his stick, Wells pulled back, ready to crack it, but then it was gone. Before he knew it, a huge body knocked him square on his ass. His head slammed back, his stick went flying, and he was stunned.