Back Check: Boston Rebels, book 2 by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Author:RJ Scott & V.L. Locey [Scott, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Love Lane Books Limited

Chapter Eleven

Isaac

The concept of a first date when I already lived with Joachim was weird. Spending time away from Sophie was strange. My whole life was on hold, and I was exhausted with the oddness of it all. I hadn’t had a date in over two years, maybe more, hell I can’t recall the last time I sat down with another man and talked about music or food or movies.

Before Ashley died for sure.

Three years.

Jesus.

I’d showered. I’d shaved. I even took time to choose the right shirt, which came from my limited supply. We’d decided to walk to a local place, a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that Joachim said he’d heard good things about. I worried it was exposing him to alcohol, and that a restaurant visit would enable him. I was concerned that the hospital might need us. Most of all, I wasn’t hungry.

I was tired. Worried about Sophie—scared. The news today had been good, she was improving day to day. They told us that it might only be two more weeks and we could bring her home. That was amazing news, but the home part left me cold. Joachim talked at length about the things he could do with the house, from extending it, to converting rooms, to fitting a new kitchen, all to make sure that Sophie had the best place to live with his budget. I didn’t know how much money he had then, but the house was his with no loans or debts, and I knew he was earning a million this year from the team.

A million dollars. For a year’s work.

When Sophie’s treatment was finished and paid for, he could do anything he wanted to do to the house and have money left over for whatever it was that millionaire hockey players did with their free time normally. Vacations, women, men, luxury, investments, stable futures, it was a long list of awesome things that he could have that would make Sophie’s life secure.

Not like me. Self-employed artist, in the place that Ashley and I had bought with our small inheritance, with not a cent to my name.

I glanced at my watch. He said he’d be home at seven, but it was ten minutes past, and he wasn’t here yet. I know his meetings sometimes ran late, depending on if he stayed back and chatted with his sponsor, so I wasn’t worried, but I was so tired. I slumped into one corner of the sofa, trying not to crease my shirt too much because I wanted to make a decent effort at how I looked. I spent a few moments flicking through my phone, catching up on work emails in that halfhearted way that meant I should really leave it alone. When I couldn’t spell the word “sincerely” and had mangled it so bad that not even spellcheck had an option, I closed my email, reached over to put my cell on the table, then slid lower into the sofa. I could live with a creased shirt if I could just close my eyes for a few moments, and it wouldn’t hurt just to rest.

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