Chapter 11
Eleven
Remi
“Tell me again why we didn’t just go to the bar,” I ask, popping the tab on a beer.
We’re in Hollis’s garage because, apparently, grown men with decent incomes still prefer a folding chair and a busted Bluetooth speaker over actual furniture.
“Because this builds character,” he says, feigning offense. “But also, because I didn’t wanna put on jeans.”
Swallowing a mouthful of beer, I chuckle. “Valid. Although, had you told me this was a pajama party, I would’ve worn my fancy jams.”
“Oh, Lord,” Hollis drawls. “Now what in the fuck are ‘fancy jams’?”
“Red silk with Daddy Moore’s face all over them, obviously.”
The joke leaves my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I suck in a breath as my brain catches up. Teasing Hollis about my crush on his dad is nothing new, but after that hot-as-fuck almost-kiss Gentry and I shared the other night, this feels different and…wrong.
I don’t know if wrong is the right word, per se, but Hollis is my best friend and Gentry is his dad, and I’d imagine he wouldn’t be too thrilled if he knew his best friend planned to be intimately familiar with the taste of his dad’s mouth.
Oops.
“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Very funny.”
I flash him a toothy grin, trying to push Gentry’s face out of my mind. Spoiler alert: I fail.
Hollis is sprawled back in a camping chair, boots up on the cooler, looking relaxed as all hell. Same guy I’ve known my whole life—loud laugh, terrible advice, and loyal to the bone. He tosses me a bag of chips. “How’s dad life?”
He’s checked in on me nearly every day about Lukas and how he’s settling in.
Which I appreciate. I practically walked into this blind and feel like I’m flying by the seat of my pants, so talking everything out with my best friend is comforting.
This is really the first time we’ve been able to hang out and catch up in person since Lukas moved in.
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “You sound eighty. Spendin’ too much damn time with Ford.”
He flips me off. “I’m serious, man. You took in a whole human. That’s wild.”
I shrug, but I can’t stop the small smile from breaking through. “Well, first of all, dad isn’t correct. Lukas has—had—a dad, and I’ve got big boots to fill. But he’s good. Sassy. A little moody. Eats like a football team.”
“My kinda kid.”
“Did I tell you his grandfather worked on a dairy farm?”
Hollis shakes his head as he takes a pull from his beer. “No, but that’s awesome.”
“Yeah. Lukas used to really enjoy helping out there, I guess. Gentry said I could bring him by this week for a tour. He’s been lookin’ forward to it all week.”
“Hell yeah. I’m sure Dad’ll put him to work.” Hollis pauses, and his brows pinch. “Wait a minute. When did you talk to my dad about that?”
Shit.
“Uh…” My heart thumps. I clear my throat. “Ran into him at the café a few days ago.”
I hate lying to my friend, but I can’t exactly tell him that we talked about it during the secret pottery lessons he knows nothing about, right before we almost made out like a couple of horny teenagers.
Nodding, a smile splits his face. “It was Rueben day, huh?”
“Of course it was,” I murmur, silently begging Hollis to drop it. I probably should’ve been more prepared coming over here. If you’re going to fool around with your best friend’s dad, you should be better at hiding it. Must’ve missed that lesson in the forbidden handbook.
“But for real,” he goes on, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to call me out. “I’m glad things are goin’ okay.”
Phew.
Thank you, Hollis, for changing the subject.
I pause for a moment, thinking about it.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s definitely a change, but I don’t know.
I like havin’ him there. I like knowin’ that I relate to what he’s goin’ through, and that I can be there for him in a way that others who haven’t lost a parent to the force can’t.
I never saw myself havin’ kids before, but it kinda feels like the universe put Lukas in my life for a reason. ”
“The universe, huh?”
“Yeah. Or, I guess, the universe put me in his life. But he’s adjusting. We both are.”
“You’re good at that stuff,” he says casually. “Showin’ up for people.”
My chest swells. I don’t know what to say back to that, so I don’t say anything at all.
Hollis and I have never really struggled with expressing ourselves with each other.
We’re not the type of men who are afraid of feelings.
But this—what he just said—makes my throat feel tight.
I want to be a decent role model and father figure for Lukas, but half the time, I still feel like I’m flying by the seat of my pants.
“Oh, hey,” Hollis says, pulling me from my thoughts. “That motorcycle show is comin’ up. You still wanna go?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” Finishing the rest of my beer, I toss the empty can into the box we’ve designated as the trash bin for the night before reaching for another.
Hollis and I bought bikes several years back. We used to ride together almost every week, but after he wrecked his last year, neither of us has been too eager to hop back on them.
As far as injuries go, Hollis got lucky.
But it was still terrifying to see my best friend banged up like that.
I still have my motorcycle, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times I thought about getting rid of it all together.
It’s one of those risks you always know is a possibility, but knowing it and seeing it happen to someone you love is a whole different story.
“Cool. Should be fun.”
We fall into easy silence, music humming low behind us.
This is what we’ve always done—trash talk, complain about work, debate whether pineapple belongs on pizza like it’s a moral issue.
My friendship with Hollis has always come easily.
We get each other. Both understand how consuming work is and never hold it against each other if one of us gets too busy to hang out.
We’ve seen each other through some shit over the years.
Since that night at the studio, I’ve thought about what Hollis would do if I told him. Because why not? We tell each other everything else. I mean, hell, he was secretly dating my boss, and that turned out all right, so maybe wanting to kiss his dad—and more—wouldn’t be so bad.
But no, I can’t tell him.
Not only was it technically nothing and, knowing Gentry, it’ll probably never happen again, but it’s also not just my story to tell.
As far as I know, Gentry has never outright told his kids that he’s into men.
Shit, I wasn’t even sure until he looked at me like he wanted to ravage my mouth.
No matter how much I hate keeping things from Hollis, I would never out somebody before they’re ready.
Hollis nudges the cooler with his boot. “My dad’s actin’ weird lately.”
His dad.
The word lands like a dropped wrench in my gut.
“Yeah?” Keeping my face neutral, I take a slow sip.
“Yeah. Keeps ‘runnin’ errands’ at night.” He air-quotes the two words dramatically. “Or at least that’s what he told me when I asked why his truck wasn’t parked in front of his house the other night when I drove past it on my way home.”
Yeah. He was running errands, alright.
“He’s bein’ all mysterious and secretive. Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was seein’ someone.”
The beer goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough. Hard.
“You good?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
“Fine,” I rasp, sucking in a lungful of air. “Just swallowed wrong.”
Hollis chuckles and tosses me a rag. “You’re a fuckin’ mess.”
If only he knew.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Just once. Pulling it out, my heart seizes in my chest as I see whose name flashes on my screen.
A man who has no business texting me while I’m sitting ten feet from his son. Who has actually never texted me before, unless I initiated it.
Daddy Moore: Does Lukas have any food allergies?
I bite back a grin as I read the message three times over.
Me: Holy shit, Daddy Moore is texting ME?! Are you feeling okay?
Daddy Moore: Just answer the damn question, Remington. I want to make sure there’s food here for him when y’all come over for the tour.
My body vibrates. It’s such a small thing—a simple, polite question—but it seems so much bigger coming from Gentry.
He’s never gone out of his way to text me before, and now—after the other night—he’s messaging me to ask about allergies?
He could’ve easily asked Hollis to ask me. It’s what he’s always done.
So why now? Why this question?
I try not to read too much into it, but I can’t help it.
Me: No allergies. Big fan of Hot Cheetos, though.
Hollis cranes his neck, kicking my boot with his. “Who’s that?”
“Work,” I say automatically, flipping the phone face down on my thigh.
He eyes me. “You’re off shift.”
“Yeah, well, fires don’t always respect my schedule.”
Hollis narrows his gaze like he knows I’m deflecting, but then he lets it go. “You ever think about datin’ again?”
There it is. The universe is testing me.
“Why?” I ask carefully.
“Because you’re an early-thirties bachelor and, out of the both of us, have always wanted something like that.”
“Something like what? Consistent sex?”
“Love,” he corrects, looking like he regrets the word the second it rolls off his tongue.
“Love? Gettin’ soft on me, Moore,” I tease.
He tosses a chip at me, and I make a show of shoving it in my mouth and chewing it.
“I don’t know,” I finally offer. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
I think about the lessons in my studio. The flirting. About the line we’re walking and how thin it is.
“Just…timing,” I settle on.
Hollis studies me for a moment. “You’d tell me if somethin’ big was goin’ on, right?”
The question is easy, but the answer isn’t. “Yeah. Of course.”
I wonder if this is how Hollis felt when he was fucking my boss in secret. If so, I really feel for him now.
He nods, seemingly satisfied.
My phone buzzes again, and I tell myself to ignore it. But of course I don’t. This time it’s just a reaction to my message. A thumbs up.
Lame.
It’s not long before we call it a night. Hollis has an early morning on the ranch, and I don’t want to leave Lukas alone for too long at a time, even though he insists he’s totally fine by himself—his words, not mine.
As I leave Hollis’s driveway, the gravity of the situation hits me, sitting on my chest like a hundred-pound weight.
All I’ve been able to think about since that night is the way something almost happened and how badly I want it to actually happen again.
But for the first time since it happened, it feels real, and the guilt kicks in.
I almost crossed a line around with my best friend’s dad, and I want to again.
And I’m keeping it from him. Lying about it, in fact.
Does that make me a terrible friend? Will Hollis forgive me if, or when, he finds out?
The idea of losing my best friend makes me want to throw up.
But the idea of never getting to experience a kiss from Gentry Moore—the man I’ve been pining over since I was a teenager—doesn’t fill me with much joy either.
Yup. I’m a terrible friend.