Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I blew out a breath, grasping at fruitless ideas I’d discarded. But when I got desperate, I was ready to look for work anywhere. Grocery stores, restaurants, whatever the fuck. Except then I remembered I’d get nowhere even faster on minimum wage. If I was stuck in a store all day, I’d be dead on my feet by the time I had to go out and look for a better job, plus finding a place to sleep that night.
Alvin could kiss his therapy goodbye, his medication, and our shot at ever leaving Elmwood Park.
Angie placed her hand on top of mine but said nothing at first.
I swallowed hard.
Not for the first time, I wished I could take Lindsey’s place. She would’ve handled this much better—and without becoming homeless in the process. She’d been the better parent, she’d had way more patience, and she could work the system. She wouldn’t have quit before Alvin had gotten all his needs met.
“I’m so sorry, Ben,” Angie murmured. “I keep seeing this from my perspective, and I hate going to bed at night, knowing you’re out there somewhere.”
I nodded with a dip of my chin. “I know.”
What the fuck was I doing in this neighborhood?
In my defense, the area around the old Dearborn Station was dead at night as soon as you got away from the rows of bars and restaurants.
My breaths misted in the cold air as I got closer and closer to the Dearborn Clover. I could see the green glow of their sign from two blocks away.
It was the closest I’d been to Trace in over two weeks.
And when was I gonna forget about him, again?
If only he wouldn’t insist on haunting me in my dreams.
He’d probably forgotten me by now.
I crossed the street and decided I was just gonna take a quick look through the windows. I’d had a shitty fucking week, and evidently, I was in the mood to feel even worse. But if I got to see him, I knew it would be worth it for those few seconds before regret crashed into me.
A couple patrons came out from the bar and lit up smokes, both tipsy and in a good Valentine’s Day mood.
I didn’t know if there’d been a game on today.
I peered through the semi-tinted window. Despite that they were closing in an hour, plenty of people were in there.
Fuck me.
I saw him behind the bar.
That grin of his. He was pouring beers and talking to a customer. My stomach tightened with unease, and it didn’t feel good at all. I’d thought…maybe seeing him would give me a hit of that high. If I could just forget my reality for a few moments…
I swallowed hard and shuddered at the cold.
Jamaal was working too. Whatever he said made Trace laugh hard, and I’d seen enough. I’d gotten my confirmation. Christ, I shouldn’t have left him that damn letter. We’d fucked. That was all.
I went down the alley where we’d met under the worst circumstances. Only this time, I went deeper into the darkness. I passed the first heating vent, knowing there was one more.
If I didn’t catch a break soon, my depression was going to suffocate me. This week, it’d been one blow after another. They were clearly not getting back to me about that maintenance job near Northwestern, I was averaging one meal per day, I’d had to borrow money from Angie to cover Alvin’s therapy, and I’d fucking walked between Elmwood Park and the city three times. That was a solid four-hour stroll through sleet and icy winds. On top of that, I’d gotten a single night’s decent rest, when I’d stayed at Ma’s place.
I went to the library every day to look for work. I’d even applied to some gigs that paid way too little. I hadn’t been this exhausted in months.
Opening my coat, I pulled out the newspapers and the seat pad Angie had given me today. A foldable, foam-like pad I hadn’t seen since I was a kid when we went hiking sometimes. Then I sat down in the snow, across from the last dumpster, and pulled up my legs. I brought out my pocketknife too.
It was going to be a long night.
I burrowed into my coat as much as I could, and I zipped up to keep half my face hidden within. Then I closed my eyes and immediately pictured Trace. If I concentrated, I could pluck sensations from one of my last memories of him. The heat of his body pressed against mine, the scent of his body wash…
His big pullout couch had been ridiculously comfortable, and I’d loved being buried under the covers with him.
I remembered how his lips had brushed over my jaw, tickled my neck, and ghosted along my ear.
“You promised to deep-throat me.”
I smirked and palmed his perfect ass.