Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I had to bite on my tongue until I could taste blood to keep from blurting out a hundred things I knew were the wrong thing to say.
How much do you need? Let me pay for it. How about I give you a giant raise?
Before any of that could tumble from my mouth, my eye caught on the marble egg resting between us. We were brand-new friends, and throwing money at Byron’s problems was more likely to insult him than make him happy. Right now, I was supposed to be listening and offering emotional support.
“But you know, it’s been almost two years since I went digging through all the databases and websites for grants and subsidies to help pay for care like that. There might be new stuff out there that I’ve overlooked,” Byron continued, seemingly oblivious to my struggles.
“I know some people who are experts in healthcare costs and things like that. I could reach out to them and see if they have any advice or ideas that might help,” I offered.
That was a lie. I didn’t know anyone who was an expert in that tangled mess, but I had lawyers and other teams at my disposal who could wade through that morass and find answers for me and Byron. If I couldn’t give Byron my money, I could at least secretly spend it on him to help him find the answers he needed.
“Really? That-that would be amazing.” Byron stared at me with wide, shining eyes. The relief rising off the younger man was a palpable thing. I hadn’t offered a dime to him, but Byron acted as if I’d taken out an entire army of worries for him and given him his very first taste of hope in years. “Trudging through all those websites and forms can be so soul-sucking at times. And finding anyone who knows this world and has the time to help is just as hard.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make some phone calls on Monday, get some wheels turning for you. I promise. We’ll find some answers.”
Yes. I was going to move this mountain for Byron, and it was only the start.
6
SEBASTIAN COURTLAND
Yesterday was an amazing day!
Books and a late lunch at a great restaurant. By the time we’d walked back to the car, Byron had been laughing and even cracking jokes. I hadn’t wanted it to end, but I’d known better than to press my luck. I’d dropped him off at his apartment after lunch.
So, naturally, I was on his doorstep early Sunday morning with a bag of his favorite bagels and cream cheese.
“What are you doing here?” Byron demanded as soon as he opened the door. Today, he wore a pair of old gray sweat pants that hung so deliciously low on his hips and a baggy T-shirt from the local Labor Day fireworks celebration, except the T-shirt was about eight years old and had a hole at the shoulder seam. But the best part—he was wearing glasses. Thin, gold wire-rimmed glasses that made his eyes appear even bigger. He never wore them to the office. I’d had no idea he needed them.
“You wear glasses.”
The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was lucky I had any filter at all when he was looking so relaxed and adorable. The entire picture made me want to pick him up, carry him to the nearest bed, and cuddle him while stripping off all the worn, slouchy clothes.
“I haven’t bothered to put in my contacts yet. Why are you here?”
“I brought bagels and your suit,” I said, shoving both things toward him. I had debated holding on to his suit and giving it to him in the office, but if someone saw me do that, it would raise questions. Even if no one saw me, it was likely to put Byron in a panic, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.
“Oh.” Byron took the suit and frowned at the bag of bagels as he continued to stand in the doorway, blocking my entrance. In fact, he had the door pulled against his body, keeping me from seeing into his apartment. Was there someone with him he didn’t want me to see?
Fuck…was he seeing someone?
As the thought dug its claws into my brain, I could hardly breathe. He’d never said whether he was dating someone. I’d always assumed he was single based on the ridiculous number of hours he spent at the office. But I could be so fucking wrong.
“Did I stop by at a bad time? Do you have company?”
“Company?” Lines of confusion streaked across his forehead, and his lips dipped into a deep frown, as if the idea of someone being there was utterly foreign to him. “No. No one is here.”
“So, you just don’t want me to see your place.” I may have added an exaggerated pout in my voice, and Byron definitely heard it because he gave me the “You’ve gotta be shitting me” look. I had been on the receiving end of that glare long before he’d agreed to be friends with me.