Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“What happened?”
“The usual. A couple of weak trades, injuries, age. You think you’re invincible and finding out you’re not kinda sucks. I had two concussions within a month and spent half a season on the injured-reserve list. I hated not training with the guys, not contributing. I was depressed. I wouldn’t have called it that at the time, but I felt bad. Distant from my life. Nothing seemed to help. And I think it killed my marriage. Must have. I’m divorced, and my ex has moved on in a big way.” His glib reply didn’t quite mask the flicker of pain in his expression.
“I’m sorry.”
“Meh. Don’t be. At least we didn’t have kids. I was bummed that Alli wanted to wait, but now…I’m grateful. My parents divorced when I was ten, and it was the worst. I can’t imagine dealing with confused, hurt little people on top of my own messy head. I mean…fuck. That would be the—” He paused abruptly and widened his eyes. “Shit. You’re…”
“Divorced with kids,” I finished.
“Fuck. That was rude and…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I squinted, staring into the fire. “Truth is…I’d rather be divorced than unhappily married. Not good for anyone—especially kids.”
“True.” He sipped his wine and added, “Still sucks.”
“Is the divorce recent?”
“It’s been a year. We’re on good terms, though. Alli’s a great friend, and I’m lucky, but…” Silas gesticulated wildly, rolling his wrists as if that might help dislodge the words he needed. “I think I’m a little…”
“Angry? Depressed?”
“Lost.” He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “That sounds dramatic, huh? Enough about me. I’m tired of my own bullshit. I’d rather hear about yours. Are you going through an existential crisis too?”
I chuckled lightly. “Not at the moment. No.”
“Good for you.”
“Is that what this is?” I motioned between us. “An existential crisis?”
“You mean…the grind session?”
“Yeah, that.” I topped off our glasses, then hiked my knee on the sofa, twisting to face him. “Have you been with other men?”
“Yeah, but…” Silas cleared his throat, darting a quick glance my way before fixating on the fire. “Only a couple of times. Nothing serious, and with guys who were deeper in the closet than I was. I haven’t done anything like this in…years. What about you?”
I shrugged. “I’m bisexual too.”
“Out?”
“Mostly.”
Silas furrowed his brows, head cocked quizzically. “What does that mean?”
“Some people know, some don’t. I don’t intentionally hide my sexuality, but unless it comes up, it’s not something I share. Folks can think what they want, and in my experience, they usually do.”
“Yeah. I guess so. Is it—do you—how do you—” He inhaled and released a humorless laugh. “Sorry. This is a new one for me. I’ve never had a conversation with anyone about…me. Or bisexual me. Not with somebody who could sort of relate.”
“I was a star football player in high school,” I bragged. “Had an arm like a cannon back in the day.”
“I bet. I meant that you were married to a woman and—”
“Silas.” I set a hand on his knee to stop his speech. “No offense, but I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Discussing my long-dead marriage isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Mine either,” he huffed in frustration. “I was just wondering how you meet guys like us in a town the size of a postage stamp or if you even try.”
“Well, I haven’t done this in a while.”
“What’s a while?” Silas bumped my knee as if the gesture might encourage conversation.
I shrugged. “Last spring with a guy I met at a bar in Rutland.”
“A hookup.”
“Yeah. We each got what we needed and moved on. No muss, no fuss, no feelings involved. I don’t remember his name or if he offered it in the first place. I didn’t want to see him again. I wanted…”
“What?” Silas prodded.
“To get off. And…well, let’s just say, the dynamics weren’t gentle.”
“Rough sex?” He widened his eyes and grinned like a wolf. “Interesting.”
I snorted. “No, it’s not. I’m not sharing past sex-ploits to entertain you, either.”
“Why not? It’s fucking snowing outside. What else are we gonna do?”
I tipped the empty wine bottle and stood abruptly. “I’ll grab a couple of waters. Want anything else to eat?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t shut me down now. This is just getting good,” he grumbled. “Take a seat and tell me all your filthy lumberjack secrets. My imagination is running wild with hot guys in plaid flannel shirts swinging their dicks—I mean, their axes. Don’t leave me hangin’.”
I barked a laugh, allowing him to pull me onto the sofa. “I’m afraid I’ll have to. I don’t kiss and tell, and you should be happy I’m discreet.”
“I am, but I’m a bisexually curious guy with limited experience, remember? I want to know things.”
I regarded Silas thoughtfully, searching his handsome features for clues. Everything about our encounter was a freak accident of sorts. A product of the weather and circumstance. If today had gone as planned, I’d be making dinner for the kids while they did homework or fought over what show we should watch afterward. But they were at their mom’s, and I was here…with a man I’d known for less than twenty-four hours.