Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He grabbed a few boxes of tiles, and they started for the older home. They’d been hired to add a simple backsplash in the kitchen.
“So let him be pissed off.”
Ducky was Daryl’s older brother and a complete shithead. He made Daryl look like an angel in comparison. Fifteen months ago, he was arrested for vandalizing a black-owned shop in downtown Swan. Being the racist idiot he is, he’d spray-painted slurs on the building, bumping the charges up from simple vandalism to a hate crime. He’d won himself a solid two-year-long stint in prison. Due to overcrowding, he’d received an early parole.
Joy.
Tate hated Ducky more than just about anyone. He’d idolized him at one point, but that only lasted until he was old enough to realize what a waste of space Ducky was. He used to hide in the bushes and throw rocks at Tate as he walked to school, steal his lunch—when he’d had one—and generally treated him like garbage. Once Tate realized his attraction to guys, it’d been Ducky finding out that terrified him most, and for good reason. He was as violent as he was prejudiced.
“He’s not working with us.” Ducky never had any interest in working for the tiling company in the past. Well, he’d never been interested in working for anyone, but he’d need a job now as part of his parole.
“That ain’t up to you.”
Another reason to start his own company.
“But I don’t think it’ll matter,” Randy added. “I heard he’s going to get a job working on cars. Daryl said something about Duck getting mechanic training in the clink.”
Perfect. Whatever kept him away from Tate.
“All right,” he said with a heavy sigh as his chances to fix things with Liam evaporated. “Let’s get this over with.” Now he’d have hours to plan his apology speech and obsess over what a fucking idiot he was.
Would Liam even speak to him?
And how could Tate blame him if he wouldn’t?
He’d gone over there snarling and snapping with jealousy. There wasn’t another word for it. The thought of that Jonah guy touching Liam had him seeing red. But then Liam shut that down, and all he could think of was fucking the man.
And, boy, had he fucked him.
It had been like nothing he’d ever experienced, and he was pretty sure Liam felt the same. Hot, raw, and primal, they’d been like two animals focused on nothing but pleasuring each other.
And then he’d heard Randy call his fucking name and felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured on him.
He got hurt.
Liam fell because Tate was an enormous asshole who’d jerked away from him.
He felt sick.
MOSTLY BECAUSE HE couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.
He didn’t deserve Liam and never would. Not as long as he lived in the closet, and he couldn’t envision a world where he didn’t. And now, with Ducky coming home, it felt as though the universe was playing games with him and laughing at his expense.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Randy called from the front door. “You just gonna stand in the driveway all damn day? Swear to God you’ve been weird as fuck lately.”
“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
He spent the next few hours working like a madman to distract himself from his mistakes. It didn’t work. The look of shock, pain, and pity on Liam’s face when he’d stared up from where he’d fallen taunted Tate the entire time he worked. If Randy noticed, he kept his mouth shut but shot Tate concerned glances.
When quitting time rolled around, they silently cleaned up and loaded the truck. “Hey, I’m meeting Daryl and Duck at The Nail for a few drinks later. You game?”
The Rusty Nail or The Nail as the locals called it, was the lone bar in Swan. Every night it was full of drunk rednecks and farmers blowing off steam after a long day. Tate had been there countless times, but even if he didn’t have a problem to fix tonight, he wouldn’t go with Ducky.
“Nah, man, I’ve got some shit to do.”
Randy scoffed.
“What?” Tate asked, glancing at his brother in his periphery.
“I’d ask what the fuck it is you gotta do, but I doubt you’ll tell me. You’ve been such a secretive motherfucker lately.”
He turned onto the highway. “You sound paranoid. I just got some shit to do. No big deal. Am I dropping you at The Nail?”
“Yeah.” They were both dusty and dirty, but The Nail wasn’t the type of place anyone cared about that shit.
Tate pulled into the lot and braked at the door.
“Thanks. We’ll be here a while if you change your mind,” Randy said as he hopped out. “I heard Kathy Baker was in town.” He winked. “In case you need a little pick-me-up,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, thanks,” he said, voice flat. “I’ll keep her in mind.” God, the words tasted bitter. Every time he denied Liam, he felt worse, and after today, he might as well be flaying his chest wide open.