Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
His eyebrows draw together. “Okay.”
While Aaron says his goodbyes to Beth, Aunt Dina, and Uncle Chuck, I tell Johnny I’ll be back to help him close up shop, and he puffs out a breath of relief. It’s a lot of work, even if he enjoys it and has part-time staff to lend a hand. June and Cain would normally stay as well, but they get a pass this year.
I meet Aaron in the parking lot and pull down the bed of my truck. I hop up to sit, and he does the same. “What’s this about?”
I reach toward the back and lift a wrapped package. “Something to remember us by.”
Aaron takes the package and begins gingerly unwrapping the brown butcher paper and bubble wrap. “Us?”
“Aqua Vista,” I reply, though I mean more than this town.
“This is gorgeous!” he exclaims, studying the framed photo of an eagle swooping down from the cliff. “This was my favorite.”
I smile, the ache returning to my chest. “I remember.”
“Thank you.” He sets down the frame and pulls me into a tight embrace. “Gift or not, no way I can forget you that easily.”
“Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad,” I murmur against his neck.
“Tell me about it.” His voice is rough as he pulls back to look at me.
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips meet in a slow kiss that turns into a frenzy of mouths and tongues and hands. He tastes sweet and spicy, like Johnny’s barbecue sauce. We lie down in the bed of the truck and make out for what seems like hours, when really, it’s only minutes.
“I want… I need…”
Our hands reach into each other’s pants as we throw caution to the wind. Aaron’s cock is warm and throbbing in my palm as I jerk him off, squirming as he does the same to me. It takes us about two point five seconds to come.
We break apart when we hear voices close to us. We stay silent and wait for the patrons to get in their cars and leave before we sit up and straighten ourselves.
Then Uncle Chuck calls out, “Johnny wants to know if you can do an ice run. Looks like the machine isn’t working.”
“On it,” I shout back.
We’re quiet as Aaron takes his framed photo and heads to his car.
I want him to stay. I need him to leave. It will only prolong this feeling in my chest that’s tight like a fist, making it hard to breathe.
“Let me know you got home safe?” I call after him.
His smile is sad as he looks over his shoulder. “Will do.”
I linger for a moment more in the parking lot, but it only extends the torture, so I turn away and head out to get the ice.
23
AARON
I’m home and well-rested the week after my trip, but nothing feels the same, not even my apartment, which is odd. Not that I enjoyed sleeping in a motel room, even if it was cozy, or living out of a suitcase. And I hadn’t been in Aqua Vista for even a month, but it got under my skin regardless. The people, the scenery, the stubborn man who at least agreed to stay in touch. Even though I suggested it, I still haven’t texted him except to say I made it home safely.
I did hang the framed photo above the couch, and I find myself staring at it often. That probably doesn’t help ease the longing I feel to be back in his world.
Work isn’t much better. It’s as if I’m going through the motions, which Rocco noticed yesterday during a budget meeting. “Are you still on vacation mode?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You keep drifting off.”
“I’m fine.”
“Call him. Talk to him.”
I roll my eyes. “You have your own shit to deal with. No need to lecture me.”
He hasn’t told me anything more about his quarrel with Corrine, but his mood has been sour since we returned.
Since it’s the weekend, I head to my mom’s, which is also my childhood home. Mom never moved and barely redecorated after Dad left, so stepping through the door feels like a time warp. I frown when I see her in her favorite recliner, hooked up to an oxygen tank. Minnie is sleeping in the crook of her arm. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” She waves me off. “Just felt like I needed it today.”
“How much worse is it getting? Be honest.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Mom always says that, but the dark circles under her eyes tell me differently. “Maybe we should consult Dr.—”
“Already have. Have a follow-up this coming week.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Why, so you can nag me afterward?” she teases. It’s true that I get overly concerned, and now I feel even guiltier that I’ve been gone for a couple of weeks.
I fold my arms. “Seriously?”