Loving the Legend (Chasing Rings, #1)

by Kit Grey

“Even when you’re sinking through life’s muck, you reach out for help and keep going.”

They mattered. Their sacrifices mattered. Their hopes and dreams for me mattered.

The fact it’s been five years since their deaths is meaningless. I’ve learned that grieving isn’t a linear process, and time has fuck all to do with healing wounds.

“I think you got specks of dust or something in your eyes. They did a weird rolling thing.”

“You know, most college nicknames are ridiculous, but yours tracks,” he says. The brimming, resonant tone of his voice passes through me like a gentle charge. I take a steadying breath. “Is that right?” Wait, did he just say that I’m pretty? I accept the compliment instead of clarifying the true meaning of my moniker.

“I remember thinking the key to happiness isn’t getting what you desire necessarily, but when your desires align with what will bring you peace,” he continues.

Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next…You must look into that storm and shout, ‘Do your worst, for I will do mine!’ Then the fates will know you as we know you.”

“Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero,”

“There’s freedom in accepting the ephemeral nature of life. We spend so much time fearing the end. I choose to appreciate the current moment for what it is.”

We’re all haunted in some way—whether by the secrets we protect, the truths we deny, or the inexplicable ugliness life throws our way.”

He possesses a nourishing warmth that seeps into my bones and reminds me of what it’s like to be untethered from grief.

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Washington, I pray for your souls to rest in eternal peace. Those who are loved live on in the hearts of those who hold them dear. Though it feels like I’ve known him for a lifetime, I’ve only known your son for a short while, but it’s clear he loves you deeply. It’s said that true friendship is rare. Then, I shall count my blessings daily and cherish the friendship that I have with your son, who I imagine is a reflection of all of your light and love. May peace be upon you. A friend of your son, Sidney King.”

It’s a beautiful thing, really, being able to share emotional intimacy with another man. It has nothing to do with sex. I can’t tell you how many times a conversation or a hug helped me or one of my friends on the brink of a mental breakdown.

“Care to share what you’re thinking right now?” he asks. If his sexy smirk is anything to go by, I’m sure he knows. He has to know. “Wish I could, but it’s the kinda thing that’s better shown.” He nods. “Will you show it to me?” There’s the mischief. “I want to. Whether it’ll happen or not…” “It’ll happen,” he says.

🫠🫠🫠🫠

“I wish I could hug you.”

“I didn’t take you for a cock-blocker,” I joke, but it lands flat. “Cock-blocker?” he repeats, eyebrows creased, spelling confusion. He steps forward, dipping his face so close that heat races across my cheeks. His lips brush against my ear. “Who said that standing here with me means you won’t get fucked tonight?”

“Take me home,” he says—no, commands.

“Look at you, taking me so well.”

“You’re beautiful,”

“No, no, let me see you,” he whispers.

“Please, baby.” His soft plea squeezes my chest, and I muster the courage to meet his gaze. “I want to see you,” he says, slowing his thrusts. “What are you doing to me?” I whisper, quickly wiping my eyes. “I could ask the same thing,” he says, voice shaky. “I’m close…fuck. I want to stay in you all night.”

“Okay, as in we’re doing this? You’re mine?” he asks, a shy grin peeking through. I grin. “I’m yours.”

“Hold on!” Sid says, turning back to the camera. “To my family at home watching”—he places his hand on his heart, his signal to me—“god, I wish you were here. I love you, and I can’t wait to celebrate with you. I’m bringing this trophy home to you.” He sniffs as a fresh set of tears tumble down his gorgeous face.

Screaming, crying , throwing up

“Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re mine,”

“Even though I try every day, I’ll never know all of your depths. And because of that, I’ll always know humility with you. Sometimes, I fear I’ve met you too late, and we’ll never have enough time.”

I know we cannot possess another person, but Sid is mine, and I am his forever. I feel it in the marrow of my bones, the tendons of my heart, the core of my soul.

“Don’t ever fucking touch him.”

“Put the phone on the nightstand with the camera facing you. Let’s go to bed.” I nod. I love seeing him as soon as I open my eyes.

“I’m convinced the Creator used a miniature paintbrush and centuries of painstaking detail to create you.” “W-what?” “How else to make sense of your beauty?” A startled moan bubbles up. Who says something like that in the middle of the night? “Good looks fade,” I say, blowing him a kiss. “You’ll still love me when I’m old?” “Pfft! I can’t wait until we’re octogenarians. Viagra and insomnia, baby, who’s gonna stop us!”

“Fuck. I love how well you take it.”