Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
And when he turned and smiled, an ugly sob escaped. I was just glad he was too far to hear it.
Do not lose your shit, Rafe. Do. Not.
Gus skated over and stepped onto the mat, holding his stick like a staff. That smile grew…and grew, like sunshine spilling through a window after a string of cloudy days.
“Hey, what are you—”
“What did you do?” I cut in, my lips pressed together.
Gus narrowed his eyes. “Uh…I don’t know. Gimme a hint.”
“Syracuse. The club.”
“Oh. O-kay…”
“You sponsored me. You did it.” I stabbed my finger into his chest accusingly, my breath hitching.
“I…yeah, I did.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. I’d been prepared for denial or a cavalier brush-off or a gentle reminder that he had money to spend however he wanted. But the tender expression with the glint of misery in his gaze rocked me to the core. I didn’t know if I was angry or grateful or if I’d used this newfound knowledge as an excuse to see him once more because no matter what other dreams came true, life without Gus Langley was fucking awful.
“Why? Why did you do it?”
“I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice didn’t just crack, it broke.
“Hey…” His expression was tender, consoling…and a little helpless.
“Why?”
“Because I…I love you.”
I was stunned into silence. “Love?”
Gus wrinkled his nose and glanced away for a moment. “I didn’t mean to fire that off at you. I get that it doesn’t change anything, but…I do love you. And if I can help you in any way, I hope you’ll let me.”
“I don’t want your money.” I smacked his chest, quickly losing control of my emotions.
He didn’t flinch. “I get that, but it’s my grandfather’s dough, and he was an amazing guy. He liked to reward greatness and invest in people who were especially talented. Trust me, he’d approve. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I—whatever, I don’t have an excuse. I just want you to have whatever you need, Rafe. That’s all.”
“I need you,” I rasped.
“Rafe…”
“Don’t you get it? I love you, too. I love you. You don’t get to tell me you’re not enough for me. You don’t!”
“You…”
“I love you,” I repeated. “I want us. I want you. And I want to come home to you. I don’t care if the house is a mess and my orange juice is long gone.” Oh, no. I was a blubbering mess. I wiped my nose on my forearm and continued. “You make me happy and crazy and you bring so much joy and—”
“So do you. Shh. Don’t cry.” He caught a tear with his thumb and cupped my chin. “I’m right here.”
“I know. I just…need you to know that my heart is yours. That’s corny, but it’s true. I choose you, Gus. Choose me back. Please.”
“Yes.” Gus dropped his hockey stick on the ice and wrapped me in his arms, murmuring, “I love you, love you, love you.”
I cupped his scruffy jaw and sealed my mouth to his. Someone cat-called from the opposite side of the rink. Gus didn’t seem to care, and I wasn’t about to pull away.
He chuckled. “I think I just came out to a couple of my new students.”
I glanced at the teenagers zipping by on the ice. “Is that a problem?”
“Not for me.” Gus smiled. “I think it’s best to be unapologetically honest from now on. What you see is what you get.”
“Good. This isn’t a game. It’s real.”
“I know.” He stroked a finger along my jawline. “And if I’ve got you, I’ve already won.”
“Just like that?”
Gus flashed another sunny grin and winked. “Just like that. I love you, Rafey. Let me spend the next seventy-five years showing you how much.”
“Seventy-five. That’s oddly specific.”
“You’re right. I might live to be a hundred and one. Will you think I’m coming on too strong if I say I want to be with you forever?”
I melted inside. “No, it sounds perfect to me.”
And it did.
I wanted to share a lifetime with my best friend.
No dream had substance without this man. No prize mattered. Together, the world seemed infinitely brighter and anything was possible. Even love.
EPILOGUE
“The more difficult the victory, the greater the happiness in winning.”—Pelé
Three Years Later
Gus
“Mr. L! Um, I’m sorry to bug you, but I was wondering…does the report have to be five hundred words? That’s kind of a lot, and I have practice in, like, ten minutes.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the teenage kid in line behind me at Coffee Cave. Brice Alvarez, QB for the Bears’ JV team, a world-class smartass and a weasel. Brice was the kid who assumed every assignment was up for negotiation. Did he really think there was a chance I’d tell him to write whatever he wanted and call it a day? Okay, sure…the old me might have, but not now. I was a professional, for fuck’s sake.