Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He thought about breaking the news to Rob and the others that he was dating a guy and winced. They weren’t homophobic, Fitch would never have put up with it because of Meg, but he couldn’t picture them understanding. He couldn’t really picture anyone understanding, but he needed to grow some balls quick. The way his heart seemed to soar whenever he heard Ansel’s voice told him this thing wasn’t going to go away. And soon there’d be no hiding his excitement.
“I should probably call them soon, actually. It’s been a while. A lot of things have changed, so catching up would be...good.”
Ansel was quiet for a second too long and Fitch knew he’d sensed his apprehension. Especially when he said, “You don’t have to tell them for my sake.”
“It’s not that.” He tried to find the right words. “I just don’t know how to explain us in a way that everyone will grasp. Most days I can barely wrap my own brain around how I feel about you. I just keep thinking how they’ll look at me, wondering if I’ve secretly been eying their junk all those times we shared a locker room together or something.”
He breathed out forcefully enough that the fringe near his forehead ruffled, and Ansel laughed on the other end of the line.
“It’s not funny,” Fitch complained with a smile.
“Sorry, but in the scheme of things, that worry seems pretty minor.” Though he’d stopped laughing, Fitch could still hear the humor in his tone.
“Yeah, which is why I’m going to grow up and rip off the Band-Aid. Soon.”
“If you really want to.” There was a note of sympathy and a hint of indulgence in Ansel’s answer.
“I do, Angel.” He let that sink in for a minute. And although Ansel didn’t reply, the silence was comforting. After a few minutes, he thought maybe Ansel had fallen asleep, but the rustle of fabric told him differently. He looked at the bedside clock and cursed under his breath. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he really didn’t want to hang up the phone.
So he didn’t.
Who cared about tomorrow when he had Ansel’s attention right now?
“Oh!” Ansel said, finally breaking the silence. “I almost forgot. Lars called.”
How could two words radiate so much emotion? Joy and gratitude and astonishment all colored Ansel’s voice to the point that Fitch had the mad desire to get in his car and rush to his apartment just so he could see his face.
“Did you have a nice chat?” Stupid question considering how happy Ansel sounded.
“He told me about his classes, and studying, and a girl he met who likes dance. It was just silly stuff, but it was nice.” The last word sounded a little self-conscious, and the tension in Fitch’s chest coiled tighter. He couldn’t imagine never seeing his sister again, never talking to her. She was like another limb sometimes. They’d been close their whole lives, even though he was older.
“I’m sure he feels the same way, Angel.”
“Yeah. I think he does. Crazy, huh?”
“Nope, crazy would be not seeing how wonderful you are.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
By Friday, Ansel had completely lost himself in the glow of a new relationship. His friends teased him every fucking day about the grin he couldn’t seem to remove from his face. Ange hugged him each chance she got, which he didn’t mind so much. She gave great hugs. And he’d even heard from his brother again. It was a brief call, but it had been welcome.
Things were good. He was happy.
The phone calls with Fitch were the best, though. They spent a lot of time getting to know each other. They texted good-night and good morning every day. A month ago he would have called it cheesy Disney fluff, but he found himself enjoying the sweetness of it all. Maybe some of his hardship-induced cynicism was wearing off. Wouldn’t Ange be thrilled?
He’d just left the butcher shop after his shift and was nearing the station when his phone rang. He answered without looking at the caller ID because the only person who called at this time of day was Fitch. “Hey, babe. I’m just about to get on the train. Can I call you back?”
Silence.
He stopped on the top step. “Fitch?”
A voice he hadn’t heard in six years crackled in his ear. “I should have known it was you.”
Isa Becke.
His mother.
He reached out to grab the railing. One simple sentence and he was instantly transported back in time, transformed into a child, innocent and frightened. Memories whizzed through his mind, bright and shiny at first, back before his mother began her torment. Before he’d become the forgotten son. Back when there was occasionally warmth in her eyes when she looked at him. His throat tightened and he crushed the phone to his ear, somehow unable to simply hang up. Still stupidly desperate for that comfort he’d lost so long ago. She’d always had a strange sort of power over him, and apparently six years away hadn’t changed that fact.