Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I don’t feel a pang of envy when I see Ollie with Niko, or even Rayne with Hunter.
Seeing everyone down here feels better than anything I’ve ever had before. A world of my own. Agency and independence, with Sev instead of on my own.
A reckless love that’s all my own.
Exactly how I fucking like it.
Epilogue
SEVAN, ONE MONTH LATER
Caps and gowns fill the football field as I walk out, listening to the Crimson College band playing Pomp and Circumstance.
We’re here to watch the seniors graduate. It’s still late spring but the heat of the sun radiates down over the campus. I find Weston’s hand behind me and grab it, keeping him close.
“Look at all of them down there, all fancy in their robes,” I tell Wes.
“It’s so cool. I’m glad I don’t have to leave yet, but I’m happy for them.”
I’m not very close with any of the students who are graduating, and luckily I’ll be here another year along with most of the other guys Wes and I hang out with. We make our way into the little white chairs laid out in rows in front of the stage. Wes sits at the far end of one row and Noah sits on the other side of me.
Wes and I have been hanging with Noah a lot over the past few weeks.
His nose is healing fast, and the bruises are mostly gone. Now he’s only in a couple small bandages for a little while longer.
And most importantly, he’s cut back on drinking, dating, and just about every other thing that was causing him to spiral this semester.
“Bright,” Noah says as he pops on a nice pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. He’s in a lavender-colored suit with a nice purple tie, and I’m sure that suit alone cost a fortune.
“Fancy fancy,” I tell him. “Is any of your family coming out for graduation this year?”
“Nah. I’m sure they will whenever I graduate, but this year they’re… busy, to say the least.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wes asks.
Noah lowers his sunglasses to give Weston a hard glance. “It’s bad.”
Weston frowns. “Oh no.”
“My dad proposed to Kolina. Didn’t mention shit about it to me. They’re getting married in Denmark, in her hometown, in two fucking weeks.”
I furrow my brow. “You can’t plan a wedding in two weeks.”
“It’s going to be just our family and Kolina’s, at some Michelin-star restaurant.”
“And that means…”
Noah sighs. “That means that fucking asshole Torin is going to be my stepbrother.”
“Yikes,” Weston says, folding up his graduation pamphlet and using it as a fan.
“Shouldn’t really affect you, though, right?” I ask him.
Noah looks like he wants to die. “My dad’s already pulling strings to get him into Crimson for a summer program.”
I groan. “For fuck’s sake. It’s like rich parents have this need to put all their spawn into the same goddamn school.”
“My dad is as obsessed with Crimson as Weston’s was,” Noah says. “I literally saw my dad cry when I was accepted, because he thought I’d never be able to get in.”
“Too wild back in high school?”
Noah grins. “Bingo.”
I fist bump him. “That’s one thing we both had in common, I guess. Meanwhile, the love of my life was a perfect little angel back in high school.”
“That is not true,” Weston protests.
The thin sheen of sweat on him from the sunlight reminds me of how he looks when we fuck, and that’s altogether too tempting to look at right now, when we’re about to watch the seniors graduate.
“You weren’t Sheriff yet when you were back in high school?”
“I mean, I did all my work. I showed up on time. I guess I was… kind of good.”
“You were perfect,” I tell him, kissing him on the head. “Just admit it.”
He smiles and shrugs. “I had to try really hard for it. Nothing was ever easy for me.”
I lean in to whisper in his ear. “Other than taking my cock.”
“Fuck, Sev.”
“I heard that,” Noah calls out from beside me.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I know how you can quit thinking about us.”
Noah lifts an eyebrow. “How?”
“Think of your stepbrother, instead.”
Noah makes a gagging sound and Weston and I break out in laughter, right before the graduation song begins.
“Never say the word stepbrother around me again,” he protests.
“Stepbrother. Stepbrother. Stepbrother.”
“Torin Jensen, coming right up.”
Noah’s laughing now, even if he hates us for it.
“Maybe you’ll like him,” Wes offers.
“Not going to happen.”
Graduation is hot but beautiful, and I’m surprised to feel emotional watching the seniors go up and get their diplomas, knowing it’ll eventually be me on that stage.
It gets me thinking about the future.
The future isn’t something I ever cared about either, and all I really wanted was simple: to get my engineering degree, get a good, challenging job, and make sure Mom was always taken care of.
The rest of the future felt like a swirling, unknown fog.