Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Hunter
“Did you have a good time?” Walt asks the second I walk into the living room after getting home from the game.
It took me a while to get out of the parking lot. What would usually be a thirty-minute drive took almost an hour. I haven’t heard from Elliot yet either, but I’m not too worried. I’ve noticed it can take a while to hear from him after a game.
“Yeah, I did,” I answer.
“So when are you gonna ask him out?” he asks without an ounce of hesitation.
He knows I’ve been talking to someone because he caught me grinning at my phone like a fool while I was texting Elliot, but I haven’t told him any details. I want to make sure I’m not imagining this connection before I get my uncle’s hopes up.
Rolling my head against the cushion, I arch a brow in his direction. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
He huffs. “Can’t a man be happy and invested over the fact his lonely-ass nephew has finally met someone who doesn’t make him look like a mopey shit all the time?”
I choke out a laugh. “Fuck off, Walter. I’m not a mopey shit.”
“But you’re not denying you’re a lonely ass,” he argues and gives me a pointed look over the top of his glasses.
Well, I can’t deny that.
Tracing over the pattern on the arm of the couch with my finger, I mull over his question.
I guess the other night could have been a date.
It felt kinda date-like, without all the additional pressure labeling it as a “date” brings.
But it’s been so long since I’ve had to do all of this.
I feel like a rookie. I need a modern-day dating manual or some shit.
Duncan and I met in high school, so all of our early dates consisted of hanging out at the local diner or making out in the woods behind his parents’ property.
Then when I enlisted in the Navy, he came with me to California.
I never thought when we got married at nineteen and bought a house together that I would be burying him ten years later.
Or that I would be figuring out how the fuck I’m supposed to navigate the dating scene in my mid thirties.
Fuck. That makes me sound so old.
I know he would want me to put myself out there again. I mean, shit, if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life on his own. It’s almost like I can hear his voice in my head, telling me how much he would have loved Elliot. They would’ve got on so well.
O’Connor likes to harp on about fate and the universe doing mysterious things. I’m not sure I believe it, but maybe bumping into him that night at the movie theater was kismet in some strange, fucked-up way.
But even if Elliot is the same age as Duncan was when he passed away, and I’m pretty sure Elliot has ADHD, as did Duncan, it doesn’t mean anything.
It’s not the same. They’re both different.
I know that. It’s a simple coincidence. Nothing more.
Luckily, Walt drops the subject because I don’t have an answer for him. We watch the rest of his movie together in a companionable silence before he gets up to go to bed. He stops at the archway to the hall that leads to his bedroom and gives me a warning that brings a smile to my lips.
“I’m making breakfast tomorrow, and if I so much as see you sniffing around that stove, I’ll deflate the tires on your truck,” he says with a point of his finger. “Got it?”
I chuckle quietly, raising my hand in salute. “You got it, Chief.”
He grumbles his good-night, then disappears down the hall. Picking up the TV remote to change the channel, I flick through, but nothing holds my attention. I end up settling on ESPN, where they’re discussing the night’s games across the league, then pull my phone out of my pocket.
Opening the text thread with Elliot, my thumbs hover over the keypad, desperate to hear from him. I begin to type out a message.
You’re incredible. I had so much fun watching you.
My thumb stalls over the Send button. He didn’t know I was there. Will he think I’m stalking him or some shit? I delete that, then type out another.
Great game tonight! You were amazing.
Too cringy. Delete.
Hey. Congrats on the win! Can I see you soon?
Okay, now that’s coming across as desperate.
With a groan, I delete the message and lock my phone.
I toss it onto the coffee table and press the heels of my palms into my eyes.
Why is this so fucking hard? I’m not the type of guy who overthinks things.
I can’t be that guy. I’ve been trained to trust my instinct because overthinking or second-guessing for one split second results in me or other people getting killed.
Right now, though, my instinct is giving me a bunch of different signals that would cause a multi-car pile-up.
I close my eyes and sink further into the couch, hoping the low noise of the TV will lull me into a sleep.
Come on, Duncan, help me out here.
He always knew what to do. He may not have taken life too seriously, but he always knew what was best when things got tough. A wise mind who saw things from different perspectives.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when my phone vibrates on the coffee table, and my eyes shoot open. I quickly lean forward to grab it, then inwardly groan at how eager I am at the idea it’s Elliot.
I often tease Lucas for how smitten he is with Daniel, yet here I am, almost breaking a hip to snap up my phone at the possibility it might be the man I can’t stop thinking about.
And it would seem today is my lucky day.
Elliot
Are you still awake?
Lol that’s probably a silly question. You’re always awake unless there’s a Hallmark movie on.
Hey! Maybe you should put them on at home. You’ll be out for the count in five minutes.
I’ve just got home and I’m buzzing! We won tonight! I only let in one goal too. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep cos WOOHOOO!!
My cheeks ache as my smile grows each time the phone vibrates in my hand with a new message.
I’m awake. Congrats on the win. This is random, and feel free to say no, but would you wanna go for a drive?
Elliot
OMG YES!
I’ll be ready whenever
I’ll be there in 20 minutes
I stand from the couch and head into the kitchen to leave Walt a note in case he wakes up during the night.
Gone out for a drive. I have my phone. Call if you need me.
Then I grab my truck keys from the counter and my leather jacket from the coat hook and head back out into the night.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling my truck into the pickup lane outside Elliot’s apartment building.
He appears through the revolving doors moments later, dressed in dark sweatpants and a pullover hoodie that looks two sizes too big for him.
He has his hood up, shielding his face as he jogs over to my truck and hops into the passenger side.
He turns to face me, flashing me a megawatt smile, and all the tension that’s been running through my shoulders instantly eases.
“Hey,” he says, putting on his seat belt before pushing his hood off. “You good? Where do you wanna go? Oh, could we go get ice cream?”
I grin. I don’t want to point out that it’s almost midnight, so I nod. “Sure. I know just the place.”
I pull away from the curb, and try to focus on the road instead of the beautiful man sitting beside me. He’s fidgeting a lot, like he’s restless. He smooths his hand over the dash, then goes to touch the screen but hesitates.
“You can change the music,” I offer, and his relief is instant.
“I’m sorry. I have a habit of taking over whenever I get in the car.” He flicks through the radio stations until he finds one he’s happy with. “Oh, I love this song.”
Lifting my hand, I try to hide my smile as he sings along to whatever upbeat, pop song is playing, bobbing his head in time with the beat.
“So… I came to your game tonight,” I say, hating the hint of underlying nerves in my tone.
His head snaps toward me, eyes widening in surprise. “You did?”
“Yeah. I had the night off, and I haven’t seen a hockey game since I was in high school, so I figured…” I shrug. “Why not.”
“You should have said. I could’ve given you my comp seats.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to take advantage.”
Silence falls between us. When I stop at a red light, I glance over at him, and he’s watching me with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just…” It’s his turn to shake his head. “People don’t usually care about taking advantage. Sometimes they only care because of the free tickets, so it just surprised me, is all…”
Anger simmers in my chest. How fucking dare people take advantage of him. To only care about the materialistic things rather than him. How can someone be so obnoxious as not to appreciate how amazing he is?
I want to rip them apart for making him feel like this.
“I’d never do that to you,” I say sternly so he knows I’m serious. “I wanted to see you, and it’s on me to make that effort.”
The lights change to green, and it takes immense effort to turn my attention back to the road as his smile lights up his entire face.
There are a few cars parked outside when we pull up outside the twenty-four-hour diner.
My hand itches to take his as we cross the lot and head inside.
It’s one of Walt’s favorite places. It has a classic ’50s vibe to it.
Black-and-white checkered tiles line the floors with pastel blue walls and a mix of red vinyl booths and smaller round tables.