Page 11 of The Last Guy On Earth
That shuts him up for a second, because until now, it hadn’t really occurred to him that his siblings could be any kind of disappointment. That’s always been Clay’s realm.Business management?His father had roared when Clay announced his college major at Boston College.That’s a fucking waste of money.
Clay had pointed out that his hockey scholarship covered more than half of it, but the blow hadn’t landed. And it never would, because as far as Dr. Powers was concerned, hockey was a waste of time, and a degree in business would never be worth the paper it was printed on.
“I’m sorry,” Clay says to his sister. “Whatever he said, it shouldn’t matter.”
“I told him that his attitude was just proof that the world needs more psychiatrists.”
Clay howls with laughter. “His head probably blew off.”
“A little bit.”
“So…a shrink in the family. Interesting. When do I have to start watching what I say?”
“You’ve got it backwards,” Kaitlyn insists. “Patient confidentiality is the law. I’ll take your secrets to my grave.”
“Cool,” he says, but he feels a prickle of guilt. Kaitlyn is the only sibling he’s really close to, but she doesn’t actually know his biggest secrets—the ones that are eating him alive lately. Not that she’d judge him. Not even if he told her all the gory details of a certain night he’d had last year. Spring break. A stranger in a Bahamas bar. Flirting with another guy for the first time in his life.
Then following that guy back to his hotel room…
He hears the sound of a key in the front door. “Hey, Kaitlyn? I should probably go soon. But congrats on picking your specialty.”
“I’m excited. Ilovedmy clinical rotation on the locked psych ward. I know that’s a weird thing to say, but it’s true. My mentor is doing such great work with those teens…”
Jethro’s big frame fills the doorway. Clay looks up at him and smiles automatically.
His roommate’s smile is slower to form, but no less genuine.
“Awesome, KayKay. I’m going to run now. Talk soon?” He hangs up with Kaitlyn as Jethro stacks a couple boxes from the liquor store inside the door. “Hey! What’s that?”
“Got some booze for your party.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Clay says. Jethro is always short on cash.
“Payday.” Jethro shrugs. He pulls an envelope out of his pocket, crosses the room, and tosses it to Clay. “Grocery money.”After hanging up his coat, he drops his lanky body onto the small sofa beside him. “What smells so good?”
You. Clay gets a little rush every time Jethro is close to him. Which is often, seeing as this couch is undersized, and their beds are about three feet apart in the other room.
These days when he has trouble falling asleep, it’s not always because of stress. Sometimes it’s sexual frustration. Jethro’s mostly naked body is a source of torture.
Clay turns his head to answer Jethro’s question, and when their gazes meet, he feels an electric jolt inside his chest. “I made braised-chicken tacos for dinner. Should be ready in about an hour.”
Jethro tilts his head back and inhales deeply. “I have to smell that for anotherhour?”
“You’ll survive.” He uses his knee to nudge Jethro’s. Any excuse to touch him.
“Good scrimmage today,” his roommate says, having no idea of the riot happening inside Clay’s body. “Seems like your line is getting its shit together.”
“Thanks. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
Jethro turns and swings his feet up and over Clay’s lap to rest them on the opposite arm of the sofa. He’s so tall that he barely fits on the couch. “Who was on the phone? Got a date?”
“Nah. That was my sister. Kaitlyn.”
“She hot?”
“Hey!”
Jethro laughs. “She into hockey players?”
