Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
Tagger
Beckett has been fussing with his tie since we left the apartment and most of the drive to Anna’s building. He insisted he wear it because she likes it. I’m just wondering if he’s allowed to be a kid when he’s with her.
But I’ve learned that I can’t control what happens at her house as long as it’s legal, safe, and he’s taken care of. Still sucks that me being a dad to my own kid ends at her doormat.
The doorman opens the door for us, but Anna is already walking out. She hits me with a glare. “You’re late.”
“I’m actually not late.” Checking my watch, I add, “We’re ten minutes early.”
I spy the restrained grin on the doorman’s face before he pretends he’s not eavesdropping.
“We’re late, then,” she snaps, then bends down and straightens Beckett’s tie before she gives him a quick hug and air kiss. She hates messing up her makeup. “Hi, honey. Did you have a good time with your father?”
“It was the best. We rode horses . . .”
She holds his hand and stands to face me as if her son wasn’t just telling her about the past week of his life. “He has freckles,” she whispers. “Did you use sunscreen?”
Be civil , my attorney always reminds me.
I kneel and wipe a smudge off his face. “I had a great time, buddy.”
“Me, too, Daddy.” I hate the sadness in his tone. These goodbyes are the worst. I want him to be strong, but I don’t want him to hide his emotions from me. It’s a tricky balance that I’m still learning.
I bring him to me and give him a solid hug. “Call me anytime, okay?”
His head nods against my shoulder. I ruffle his hair and then stand again. Anna’s right in there fixing every hair that’s out of place. “We’re late,” she says again. Looking down at Beckett, she smiles. “Want to go to a birthday party?”
His spirits are instantly brightened. I’m glad he’ll have some fun to take his mind off the sadness of my departure. “Yes!”
“Bye, Beck. Love you.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
I slip into the back of the car, but before the door closes, I hear her say, “This is going to be so much fun. It’s a work colleague of mine. His party is being hosted at the Waldorf.”
“Will there be balloons?” he asks.
I shut the door and take a deep breath. She’s a good mother to him. She just values different things, which is her right. Being a Manhattan socialite in her teens and twenties set her up for a life different from mine. Not bad. Just not the same.
The car pulls away from the curb, but I look out the back window to see them getting into a cab. His hair is back in place, the tie straight, and the joy I saw in his eyes in Texas has disappeared.
I release a deep sigh, trying to figure out how soon I can get us both back to The Pass. Because if I’m honest, I feel the same.
Twenty blocks south, I’m dropped off in front of the bar. I walk into the sounds of a rousing crowd, TVs line the walls with every game in season being played, and a familiar face. I weave through the tables and duck so I don’t block a Nuggets game that appears to have some viewers on edge.
Baylor stands out in a crowd. He’s a big dude. Hair darker than his sister’s. Eye-level to me but they grow’em bigger in Texas. He slaps his hand against mine and then pulls me into to bump shoulders like we always do. “Welcome back, fucker,” he says with the signature smile of his that gets him laid on the regular.
We’ve known each other our entire lives and played on the same sports teams from Little League through football in college. Thick and thin, we’ve been through the good and bad and back again. We moved away to college together, both majored in finance, and afterward, we got jobs in the city. And somehow, I’m able to look him in the eyes like I didn’t make his sister come on my hand last night.
Fuuuck.
“Tagger Grange is back in the house.” He sits back down, oblivious to my deception. If I have my way, it will stay like that. “I got a pitcher just before you arrived.”
“I can use a beer. This pitcher will do.” I chuckle, but the humor isn’t there.
“Anna?”
I scrub my hand over my forehead. “That and I’m tired from traveling.”
He pours the beer, apparently not willing to sacrifice the pitcher to me, and asks, “Drop-off didn’t go well?”
“It’s fine. It is what it is for now.”
“Sorry, man.” He hands me the beer. “Maybe a night out with your best friend can cure it.”
I clink my glass against his and grin. “Here’s to the hops and friendship.” The golden liquid is cold and too easy to drink, and I find myself refilling half the glass I just emptied before I set it down again.
The bar groans over a play I missed on the large screen hanging over the bar. It’s not a game I care about, so I look around to see which one I want to watch instead.
Baylor points at a screen facing us, fifteen feet or so away. “I got here early to get a good view. Yankees are playing the Diamondbacks.”
“Move over.” I slide the chair to the same side where he’s sitting and lean against the wall behind us. A basket of mozzarella sticks and some wings are dropped off without a word from the server. The place is packed, and she’s running, so no offense is taken.
I grab a wing and catch up on the second inning of the game. When a commercial comes on, Baylor asks, “What’s it like back there?”
“Where?” The game is back on, so we return our eyes to the screen.
The conversation doesn’t miss a beat. “Back home.”
I was kind of hoping to avoid the topic of my trip. No such luck. Guilt rattles me, so I take another long pull of beer before replying, “Same old.”
He looks at me. “That place never changes.” His tone tips toward disappointment, which I don’t get.
“You haven’t been back in years.”
“Neither had you. And you found out firsthand.” He drinks, then sets the beer down and grabs a mozzarella stick. “It’s like time stands still out there.”
I don’t know why this raises my defenses, but it does. “It’s changed.” Your sister has changed . . . “Maybe there aren’t trendy restaurants or food delivery?—”
“No rideshare, and nothing is open past nine.”
“Whiskey’s is.”
He laughs, glancing over at me. “God. I haven’t thought about that place in years. But it’s exactly the same.”
“I can vouch for that. Even the same regulars are parked at the bar, just older, a little drunker maybe.”
He’s on his feet and clapping. “Good play. Good play.” He’s focused on the game, which I don’t mind. Maybe he’ll forget what we were even talking about. But then he says, “Can’t believe you went to that dive.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” I shrug. “They’ve expanded. There was live music, and the crowd was good.”
Baylor looks at me, really looks at me like he’s seeing someone he doesn’t recognize. “Okay. If I go back, I’ll go to Whiskey’s.”
“Why do you say if?”
Shaking his head, he looks confused. “What do you mean?”
“You said if you go back. You never going home again? Not checking in on the ranch, or your dad, or your sister who’s holding it all together while you pocket the quarterly checks?”
Lowering the glass that he was about to drink from, he furrows his forehead as he stares at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He attempts a smile to soften the blow, but I can tell he’s annoyed under it. “Doesn’t seem like most of that is any of your business.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to the game. “Anyway, it took you, what, five years to go back, and now you’re lecturing me?” He takes another swig, and then says, “I was there for my mom’s funeral. Excuse me if I’m not in a rush to go relive that memory.”
Now I feel like shit. “Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Did my sister put you up to guilting me to come back?” This is what happens when you mess with a hornet’s nest. They bite back.
I turn my attention to the screen, keeping my eyes on the game. “No, she didn’t say anything. It was me, just curious.” I shove a mozzarella stick in my mouth to keep from saying more.
“You saw my sister?” Shit . Guess he’s not ready to drop it. Figures.
I grab the last stick, ready to make it wait for me to eat it, but I don’t have to lie about everything. “I ran into her at Peach’s.”
He glances at me, then redirects his eyes to the wings. “Was Lauralee working?”
“She was there. Friendly like always. Beckett liked her biscuits.”
“Damn, I miss those,” he says as if he can taste the memory. “The cheddar ones are the best.”
“They’re your sister’s favorite, too.” Why can I not shut the fuck up? “She was devastated when Beck got the last one.”
“Ah. Yeah, I’d be devastated too.” His gaze volleys to the TV and then to me. “How’s Pristine? How’d she look?”
Five days ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to answer. Now I struggle to find words that aren’t she’s so fucking sexy that I couldn’t keep my hands off her . “Good. Healthy.”
“Did you see my dad?”
“Yeah. Older but holding his own like he always has.” I don’t hide behind food or drink this time. I look at him, and add, “I went to Rollingwood quite a bit with Beck. Found out Davey had a baby, so they asked me to help cover his duties.”
“You worked the ranch? Damn, dude. That’s not easy.”
“Fucking hell,” I gripe, watching the Yankees throw it away in the fourth inning.
Baylor runs his hand over his face, personally offended by the bad play we just witnessed. “If it’s like this in the sixth, I’m going home.”
“It’s Saturday night. Since when do you ever have an early Saturday night?”
As if he had forgotten, he chuckles. “Right. Yeah, fine. I’ll stay, but you’ll be buying the rounds if they lose.”
“Why am I stuck with the tab?”
Sitting back, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Because you’re the one who got me into the Yankees, so you have to pay for making me suffer.”
“There’s not going to be any suffering. They’re going to pull it out like we know they can.”
They don’t turn it around, and Baylor’s now in a mood despite me picking up the entire check from tonight. We walk down the street, trying to decide where to go next, but I’m honestly not in the mood either. And it’s not because of the Yankees.
“I think I’m going to head back and have an early night. The travel and dealing with Anna, the?—”
“Working the ranch again? I bet your body’s fucked up. That’s hard work, and you’ve gotten soft in the city.”
“Soft is the last word to describe me.” I chuckle, then look down the street in both directions to see if any taxis are in the area before I order a car to drive me.
He shakes my hand. “You never said if there were any hot chicks around town or at Whiskey’s?”
I walk backward to the curb. “Things have definitely changed.” Throwing my arm in the air for an approaching cab, I add, “You should call your family. I know they miss you.”
He seems to be taking that for what it’s worth. “I will. See you on Thursday at the courts?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I get in the back of the taxi and give him my address. It was good to see Baylor, but I need to figure out what the hell is going on with me when it comes to his sister. I know full well that it can never work out with me here and her there.