17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Elias

Fourteen Years of Age

" H ave you ever thought about your future, what you want?" I whispered into the darkness, the words hanging heavy in the air. Jarman let out a heavy sigh, the only sign that he was exhausted by my midnight musings—but he never asked me to stop talking, ever.

"A partner, a dog, hockey," he replied, certain.

"Where would you live?"

"Wherever hockey leads me, but somewhere I can hike with my dog." His response came easily, as if he’d planned it all out already

"You know what I want?" I teased.

"What’s that, Mouse?" His voice was soft and warm— Inviting

"To be anywhere you are, and if you're hiking, I'm bringing my cat," I declared, unable to suppress my excitement at the idea.

"You can't take a cat hiking," he laughed.

"Yeah, you can! I'll train it. It'll have a harness and be best friends with the dog. It'll be amazing." A vivid picture of our future painted itself in my mind

"I don't like cats," he teased.

"Too bad. You like me, and I like cats."

"I'm questioning that decision right about now."

"Nope, you love me. Shut up," I countered, effectively silencing him by laying on his chest and finding solace in the beat of his heart.

"For some reason, I do," he murmured, and I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me as I drifted off to sleep, safe in the embrace of Shane Jarman.

Present

The hollow feeling in my chest had been replaced by the warmth of Shane’s presence, but it was a feeling I was scared to latch onto.

My TV had been taken over with animal documentaries and Shane had been right: the one about the wolves was really good. I shamelessly rested on his shoulder like nothing had ever happened, listening to the crackle of the fire as I tried not to cry when the injured baby wolf got left behind.

“You know, last time I watched this, I imagined you would be a lot more talkative.”

My lip twitched. “I did listen to your voice messages—every single one.”

Shane stiffened. “But you didn’t want to call me back?”

“I didn't have much to talk about, Shane. Unless you want me to tell you about the new website I designed, or the fact that I gave my girlfriend everything she wanted and she still cheated on me.”

His arms tightened around me, and goosebumps prickled my skin where his lips grazing my neck. “Yes, I do want to know those things. I would have been on the first flight out here to make sure you were okay.”

I relaxed in his arms. “It's fine. We barely saw each other as it was. I was holding onto the idea of her, and after everyone was gone… she was all I had.”

Warm breath fanned over my neck, reminding me of the proximity from his mouth to my skin. My heart raced, cock twitching in my pants at the memory from that morning. I clenched my teeth, fighting the rush of arousal. It was like a switch had been flicked and I didn’t know how to turn it off again.

“I hate that you felt alone, sweetheart. There will never be a day where I don’t curse myself for being stupid enough to lose you.”

Fuck . There was that pet name again, the one I never wanted to stop. The revelation that I was in love with Shane hit me like a freight train—especially considering that just yesterday he had a boyfriend. That heavy dose of reality was enough to send my cock back to sleep.

I fell silent, immersing myself in the documentary to distract myself from the thoughts swirling around in my head.

The day quickly faded away and before we knew it, we were back in bed. Morning came just as fast and I was once again nestled against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat keeping my panic at bay. Memories flooded my mind, memories of nights spent desperately trying to recall that rhythm—even with someone else beside me. With a contented sigh, I snuggled closer. His arms closed around me, large and comforting and finally, I felt like I belonged

The tender brush of his lips against my hair sent shivers down my spine. My fingers brushed his chest, exploring the feeling of his chest hair against them. Neither of us spoke, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile tranquility of the moment. “Sweetheart?” he finally whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Want some breakfast?”

My stomach answered for me, and the rumble of his chest as he laughed made my skin vibrate. Lifting my head, I met his gaze, losing myself in the depths of those warm brown eyes. The urge to reach out and explore his body was overwhelming, to feel his beard under my fingertips, the softness of his lips against mine.

My blood traveled south at the thought, and I jolted away before Shane noticed my erection.

“I'll go get breakfast on,” he said, shifting out of bed. “Our flight’s at one. Why don’t you start packing?”

The thought of moving to Canada and seeing my old friends again made panic spike in my chest, but I did as he said, trying and failing not to stare at his ass as he walked away. Friends didn’t check out their friends’ asses— I didn’t check out my friends’ asses.

But I did it, making the problem in my pants throb in acknowledgment. I didn' t know if you could call an appendage a problem, but mine was going to get the name with a gold-plated certificate. One moment he decided that hard was bad and now it was all he wanted to do. Mr. Problem had me all Mr. Confused.

I rolled my suitcase out to the living area, following the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. The combination had my mouth watering—but so did the image of Shane just in nothing but his briefs.

I froze on the spot, gaze raking over him shamelessly, taking in the rippling muscles in his shoulders, the ridges of his abs, his thick, muscular thighs. He was a big guy, one that felt amazing wrapped around me. Once more I was surprised how my body instantly reacted to the sight. Thoughts I never imagined I’d have began to take root, ones that were very inappropriate to have about a man who said he loved me. Loved. Past tense.

“Hope you're hungry, sweetheart.”

There he went with the pet names again. I set down my backpack, hoping he didn’t see the bulge I sported in my jeans. As I passed him, my hand had a mind of its own, brushing across his lower back. I ignored the feeling of missing the touch and jumped up to dig into my plate of food.

Shane watched me for a moment, in the quiet way he always had. There’d been numerous times in our lives were I’d caught him. I only now realized it for what it was: admiration. I just thought he was keeping an eye on me, my protector. I never had anything to ever worry about if those big brown eyes were on me. Now I could see it, and it was the only thing that gave me hope that he wasn’t quite ready to move on. Though my treacherous mind was quick to remind me he already had .

We ate in comfortable silence—until my phone broke it. I was starting to get PTSD from the sound of that ringtone with how often my clients rang me. I set my plate down and pushed off the bench to find the offending the device. I couldn’t even remember where I’d left it.

“I put it on the charger when I took you to bed last night,” Shane explained

I mumbled my thanks and went to retrieve it, choosing not to address his choice of words.

There used to be a time where I’d answer a call from my dad with excitement. I didn’t always dread seeing his name pop up—unless I got a bad grade. Though as I stared at my phone then, my mind went on a special kind of downward spiral. Was he going to tell me off for making a scene at Christmas? Did I fail an account? Did a client complain? I sighed, knowing that ignoring his call altogether would only make whatever it was worse.

“Hey dad," I answered, somehow managing to.

"Hey, so I spoke with Shane," my dad began in a careful, measured tones. "I'm happy for you to work remotely for a little while, see your friends. I know you'll keep on top of your work."

"Thanks, Dad," I replied, relief flooding through me. "I'll make sure nothing slips."

"I expect you won't. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad," I assured him, the lie settling heavy between us.

He sighed, almost as if he didn’t believe me. "Enjoy Canada. I expect regular debriefs on the clients, please."

"Yes, sir," I affirmed, my heart sinking as I ended the call. I sank onto the bed, my appetite gone.

When I found the strength to return to the kitchen, Jarman’s eyes tracked my every move. I attempted to finish the meal he’d prepared for me, but every bite was a struggle, my stomach threatening to send it right back up. I hoped that Shane didn’t notice, but that was simply wishful thinking.