Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
After a while, he turned to look at Cody. Mitch realized, his man was the smart one. He kept his eyes focused forward, seeming to not hear or see a thing.
“I hate this,” Mitch said, completely disgusted.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cody replied.
“It does matter. They can hate me; that’s fine. But why the hell do they take it out on our soldiers?” He really wanted to know that answer. It didn’t make any sense to him. Hell, none of this did. Why did these people spew so much hate? Why were they so vicious in their attacks? But what got to him the most was seeing the little boys and girls that couldn’t have been more than four or five marching beside their parents carrying hate signs. That really bothered him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cody repeated as he pulled the truck into an open space.
“That’s all you keep saying. I don’t get it.” He turned to Cody and stared at him, refusing to leave the truck till he had his answer.
“It’s the truth. They don’t matter, Mitch. We’re here for the Sinacola family. Nothing they are doing over there changes anything. They suck, and Kreed’s brother died protecting their right to suck,” Cody said, putting the truck in park. “We can’t let them get to us.” Cody turned to him and smiled. “You look handsome in your suit.”
“I don’t know. I’m not really a suit wearer.” Mitch looked down at his clothes and straightened his tie. “How the fuck do you do that? No one else can do that to me. You make me forget my worries and think about you.” He smoothed his hands down his slacks. Stupid protesters forgotten.
Cody chuckled and lowered the rearview mirror, pushing the few pieces of his short blond hair back off his forehead and checking his teeth. “You do look hot.”
“You’re the one who looks fucking hot. You were made to wear clothes like those.” Mitch opened the passenger side door, getting out of the car. Cody was slower to leave as he grabbed some items from his console. Mitch went and stood at the front of the truck. He had a perfect angle to see the haters, and lord, did they hate him. He did something he rarely did anymore—he reached up to check his weapon in his side holster. The familiar feel comforting him in the semi-hostile environment.
Mitch dropped his hands in his pockets and stared at the protestors. He wanted to shoot them the bird, but held himself back out of respect for Kreed and his family. Cody came forward, never looking behind him as though he truly couldn’t care less. Mitch wished he could get there.
“Ready,” Cody said, sticking a hand out, ushering Mitch toward the church. Out of defiance, Mitch grabbed Cody’s hand purposefully and strolled slowly into the house of worship. They walked hand in hand through the mega church filled to capacity, making their way to stand beside the Sinacola family.
“Thank you for being here.” Kreed greeted both of them. Mitch hugged his friend tightly.
“I wouldn’t let you go through this alone. Anything you need, man, I’m here. Now, don’t thank me again. And, Kreed, stop worrying about us.” Mitch released Kreed from the tight embrace. “Concentrate on your family.”
“I know it was hard dealing with those people out there,” Kreed said and stuck a hand out for Cody.
“I don’t pay attention to their ignorance. I’m just sorry your family has to deal with people like that.” Cody replied, shaking Kreed’s hand.
“I would love to shove a few of those signs up their asses,” Mitch mumbled under his breath and dropped his sunglasses in his inner suit pocket.
“Son,” Mrs. Sinacola called out. Kreed took his mother’s hand, and the family started down the long aisle.
“If we were to ever get married, I’d walk you down an aisle like this,” Mitch whispered into Cody’s ear. Cody turned his head toward Mitch and stumbled a little. “Finally! That calm, cool, collected thing you were doing was wearing on my nerves.” Mitch gave a small smile.
“I’m trying to be supportive,” Cody whispered back.
“Well, you’ve accomplished that. Thank you,” Mitch said quietly and stopped to the side of the pew and waited for Cody to be seated first.
Chapter 41
“Drink this,” Cody instructed as the bartender put a Crown & Coke in front of Mitch and cleared away their dinner dishes. They were hours from sitting in a packed church, listening to the community talk about the Sinacola family and the loss they’d endured. Mitch had teared up several times during the service.
It was a good thing they sat on the edge of the pew, close to a box of tissues. Cody had pulled several from the box during the hour long memorial, handing them over to Mitch, then disposing of them when he began to worry the tissue into shreds.
Mitch hadn’t handled much of the service well, and seeing his lover so affected was incredibly emotional to watch. The worst part for everyone concerned was exiting with all that chaos still going on outside. All the hate from the insane church group and love from friends and supporters, but to have it all going on at the same moment, during a time of grieving was really just way too much to handle.
Cody had known going into this weekend that he needed to just be supportive, but he had no idea how much this day would impact him. It would take some time to process all this emotion. He’d never let anyone know how badly that grandstanding from the church had bothered him.
“I like where you live,” Mitch said, reaching for Cody’s hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “Thank you for today.”
“You’ve said that two or three times. I didn’t do anything.” He swiveled on his barstool toward Mitch. They were in the space below his loft, tucked away at the end of the bar, out of the way of everyone.
“Yes, you did. And thank you,” Mitch said again, lifting his glass to salute Cody. “Let’s talk about something else.”