My phone rings again, and I roll my eyes. “If I don’t get going, West will have my ass. Text me. Any time. Or call. You decide what you want to do on Tuesday night, and I’ll make it happen. Okay?”
He nods as I release him and walk backwards down the ramp. I might be falling for this guy. Harder than I thought possible. Because watching him stand in the sun? Seeing the pure joy on his face as he tips his head and basks in the warm light? It feels an awful lot like what I always imagined love to be.
Chapter Sixteen
Quinton
Those few minutesin the sun? Pure joy. Until I scanned the street and saw a blond, bearded man turn the corner and stare at me, his phone pressed to his ear.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve never seen him before. That after five seconds, he continues walking without giving me a second look. I’m still too panicked to do anything but lurch back inside, slam the door, and flip all the locks before my chest is so tight, it’s hard to breathe.
The day is mostly a lost cause. Other than feeding Clementine and throwing her favorite fishy toy every time she drops it in my lap, I can’t manage to focus on anything but binge watchingParks and Recreation.
Graham texts me a handful of times, sending me pictures of the vast emptiness only an hour outside of Seattle. It’s beautiful, in a haunting sort of way, and I wish I were strong enough to see it.
By the time the sun sets, I feel almost normal again, and I sink into my massage chair with my laptop to check my email.
“Oh my God.” Zen Oasis is already live on all the mobile app stores, and the sales numbers… It’s a good thing I’m sitting down. They’re in the thousands. After only a day.
My dream—the one I gave up on for so long—is coming true, and my eyes burn as I blink back tears. Clementinemrrpsfrom where she’s curled up at my feet, and I reach down to rub her belly. “You know what a big deal this is, sweetie? It means he didn’t win. I did.”
Running some sales projections, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. If they’re evencloseto accurate, I should be able to cover my living expenses within three monthsandhave enough money left to pay my brother back.
Alec ran up close to ten thousand dollars in debt on my credit cards, and Connor wiped the slate clean, paid for the rehab facility, and pre-paid six months of rent on this place. Hell, he covered the cost of the chair lift and the kick ass security system too.
I protested everything, but he waved me off. “I let you down,” he said every time I tried to refuse. “Let me make it up to you.”
If only he understood that all I needed was to have my brother back.
I’m so excited, I email him to share the good news. I doubt he’ll respond anytime soon. His job—whatever it is—often takes him “off the grid” for days. His words, not mine. It’s got to be something with the government, but he’ll never tell me.
Focusing on anything when I’m this excited is damn near impossible, and as perceptive as Clementine is, I need connection. Someone to share this moment with me.
As if the universe can hear my thoughts, my phone buzzes with a text from Graham.
Busy night. Was so late getting back from Ellensburg, I’ll have to unpack all the MREs tomorrow. After running drills for three hours. It’ll be a miracle if I’m still standing for my next shift. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you, and I can’t wait to see you on Tuesday.
He signs the message with a heart emoji. I can’tnotreply.
“Need to celebrate on Tuesday. Zen Oasis, the app I’ve been working on for three years is already live and it’s selling! Alec tried to take that from me too. Kept me from working on it, told me it’d never be successful. But he was wrong, and I need to keep telling myself he was wrong about a lot of things.”
My phone buzzes with a response in under five minutes.
“Holy shit, Q. That’s amazing. I just downloaded it. I can’t play around with it at work unless the crowds magically disappear, but you can bet your ass I’ll check it out when I get off.”
All my excitement evaporates in a heartbeat—replaced by anxiety. Graham’s important to me. More important than I realized until just now. And if he pays attention to everything I put into Zen Oasis, he’ll see how my mind works—and maybe, how truly fucked up I am. Oh, God. What if this was a huge mistake?
But then he sends me another message. With a photo.
“Can’t wait to congratulate you properly.”
I almost choke when I see the picture. Taken from chest height, it shows his Unicorn tank top molded to his sculpted abs and a bulge clearly visible under his tight, black pants.
“Did you just send me a clothed dick pic?”
His reply is only six words, but it still sends a fair bit of blood straight to my cock.“Best I could do. For now.”
I don’t understand why he wants me. Or how the hell he was still single when we met. But with every text, every touch, every moment of understanding he shows me, I think maybe I’ve found one of the good ones. And maybe I’ll be strong enough to eventually tell him everything.
