Read Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement) for Free Online Page B

“Half of you is twice as much as I deserve.”
    “You really want this?”
    He nodded. He did.
    Peace had turned out to be impossible to fight.
    She crossed her arms and leaned against the hood, staring out at the city. “If I do this, I want it to be clear that I’m only using you. Your money, your body.”
    “My car.”
    She looked at him and nodded. When he nodded back, she pushed herself off the car, opening the driver-side door and saying, “Are you going to pay for the speeding tickets?”
    “No. But I’ll pay for the gas.”

    When Brady woke the next morning in Cassandra’s bed, her alarm blaring loud enough to wake the neighbors, he stared at the ceiling. Ran his hands along the sheets.
    Seven hours, again. No dreams, no screaming.
    He turned his head and found Cassandra watching him.
    Six years. Six years of wishing he’d died, too. Six years of trying to punish himself. Six years of reliving that one moment that had changed everything.
    He didn’t remember the accident, not during the day.
    But at night, he dreamed, and he didn’t know if it was real or if it was a story his subconscious had made. Because a man couldn’t destroy his whole world and not remember it.
    He pushed the sheet off, and Cassandra said, “I’m never getting rid of you, am I?”
    He stopped, poking his internal wounds. They were still there, he could feel it. But it hurt a little less, as if it was finally healing. No longer raw, no longer infected.
    He didn’t know why he’d been given this reprieve. All he knew was he would grab it with both hands. He’d denied himself the oblivion of alcohol, the flying freedom of coke, but this he couldn’t fight. Because it didn’t feel wrong.
    It felt. . .not like forgiveness, but acceptance. It felt like what was next.
    He said, “It might come back.”
    Cassandra said, “I’m not that lucky.”
    Brady blinked, then couldn’t help it as his lips tipped up. His smile grew, and hers answered, until they were both lying there grinning at each other.
    He said, “Neither am I.”
    She rolled toward him. “What are you talking about? You get all this,” she waved her hand down her body, “and all it’s going to cost you is your car.”
    He laughed. The first time in six years he didn’t try and stop it, and then he did it again.
    “You’re right. That is pretty lucky.”
    And then they both got lucky.

    Shane had given Christian a few days to himself. To miss what he’d found, to see what he wanted to give up.
    Because Christian didn’t want Shane or his love.
    Shane already knew, and was trying to give Christian time to figure out, that you can’t fight yourself. That you can’t be anybody but yourself.
    Shane had been lucky. His mother hadn’t cared one jot that her son was gay. And if his father had cared, he’d hidden it well before he’d passed on. But Shane thought that the man had loved his son. Had loved everything that made him Shane and wouldn’t have changed anything about him.
    Shane had had unconditional acceptance and love since the moment of his birth. Had never been made to feel that something was wrong with him.
    Shane would give that to Christian. He would love everything about him. Love that he was careful and cautious. Love the daily struggle that had made him who he was.
    And he would give Christian as much time as he could, it was just Shane Wilder wasn’t a very patient man.
    Christian opened his door, his hazel eyes cautious and his brown hair brown , and said, “You were going to give me a week.”
    “I know. Two days was all I could last. I froze my car keys in the ice tray last night, which was why you got a third night.”
    Christian smiled like he knew he shouldn’t give Shane any encouragement but just couldn’t help it.
    Shane said, “I want you to meet my friends. Brunch with Kenny and Tom, and then we’ll swing by and say hello to Cass. See if Dear Penthouse is there because her exact words were, ‘He’s big, he’s tailored,