Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“My mom, fuck!”
“Calm down.”
“Hide.”
“I’m not a teenager and we’re not doing anything wrong.”
“You don’t understand.”
Rafe grabbed his shoulders. “Breathe, pet. It’s okay.”
“No, it won’t be okay, Rafe, because it’s you.”
“Me?” They ran out of time. The squeak of the front door opening meant they’d have to face his mother head on.
“Honey?”
With a panicked look over his shoulder, Hop went through the archway into the living room to greet his mother. “What are you doing home? I thought your retreat was for five days.”
“It is, but I could hear in your voice that you weren’t feeling well, so I came home early. I know how you get when you’re—”
“Hello, Ms. Lovette.” Rafe’s smile was forced, he could feel it.
“Oh.” She blinked at him, then darted her gaze to her son, a crease forming between her brows.
“You remember Rafe, right?”
“Of course,” she said absently. “How could I forget the man who brought you home every time you got into trouble?”
Hop flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”
She whipped her scarf off and pinned Rafe with her perceptive eyes. “What mess are you cleaning up now, Mr. Marson?”
“You’ve misunderstood, Ms. Lovette.”
“Have I? Then enlighten me, what the hell are you doing in my home?”
Rafe glanced at Hop, who looked like he was about to fall over. He crossed the room to prop Hop up with an arm around his waist. “You need to sit?”
Hop shook his head and winced. “Maybe.”
Rafe guided him to the sofa, pulled off the throw and tucked it around his lap. “Tea?”
Hop looked at him with an unwavering gratitude that would be impossible to forget. “Thank you.”
He only spared a glance for Hop’s mother as he returned to the kitchen to prepare Hop’s tea.
“It’s been him this whole time?”
“Mom, listen—”
“Tell me the truth. I can’t take any more lies.”
“We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks.”
“So it was him last time?”
From his place in the kitchen, Rafe could see Hop on the couch. He could see the way he swallowed at his mother’s question and the tint of red flushing his face. “Yes.” He dipped his head, hands twisting in his lap.
“It all makes sense now,” Ms. Lovette said. “How did he come back into your life? When?”
“He owns the club where Sassy Boyz got the new contract. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew how you’d react.”
The kettle whistled. He poured the water into Hop’s mug and returned to the living room.
“You should leave, Mr. Marson.”
Rafe sat next to Hop and handed him the tea. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Did he tell you what happened to him because of you? Did he tell you how close he came to dying?”
“He did.”
“Then how can you sit in my living room like you didn’t do anything wrong?”
“I’m sorry about everything that happened in the past, but I wasn’t the one who hurt him.”
“It was never his responsibility to save me, Mom. I made my own choices.”
“As soon as he shows back up in your life, you start spinning out of control again, coming home with bruises and...” She flicked her wrist. “You said you’d be careful.”
“I have. I am. Mom, it’s my gift to give and I’ve given it to someone worthy. I trust him more than I trust myself.” The certainty in Hop’s voice shocked everyone.
Rafe tucked a stray strand of hair behind Hop’s ear, drawing his attention. “Thank you.”
Hop’s smile was tentative but sweet nonetheless. And for a moment, they were alone in the room looking into each other’s eyes.
“Oh,” Ms. Lovette said, breaking the spell. “I see.” She sounded devastated, but also empathetic. She picked up her scarf, wrapped it around her neck, grabbed her purse from the chair and left the apartment.
* * *
When Rafe finally made it into the office, he found a message from Roland’s secretary waiting for him. Another summons.
Not what he wanted to deal with after the turmoil of his morning, but he had no choice. Tomorrow Prince would arrive in New York for the dress rehearsal, and until then Rafe had to maintain the status quo, even if it meant kissing Lockwood ass.
He called in his wine order and rearranged his schedule.
Leaving Hop had been hard, much harder than it should have been. Work had always been his top priority, but this morning he’d been willing to ignore his responsibilities in order to take care of someone else. It’d been Hop who pushed him out the door.
For the rest of the afternoon, he lost himself in the repetitive tasks that made up each and every day. When six o’clock finally rolled around, Rafe was as ready as he could be for whatever Roland had to throw at him. He left Mark in charge and swung by the liquor store to pick up his order. At seven on the dot, Rafe stood on the Lockwood doorstep, mask securely in place.