Chapter 4
Four
Blayne
On Sunday afternoon, my house sounds like a damn zoo. Tommy’s yelling at the TV like the quarterback can actually hear him, Martinez is arguing with Carlos about whether that last play was a fumble or not, and Jake’s already on his third pizza even though the game just started.
This is exactly what I needed. Something loud, normal and completely unrelated to Reggie Mason.
“Boss, you got any more of those jalapeno poppers?” Tommy yells from the living room.
“In the oven,” I call back, flipping burgers on the grill out on the deck. “And don’t eat them all, you pig.”
“No promises!”
I’ve been hosting these Sunday games for years now, ever since I moved into this house. Started with just Tommy and Martinez, but word got around and now half my crew shows up. They’re good guys. The kind of men who have my back no matter what.
“Blayne!” Carlos appears next to me, holding an empty bottle. “You got any more of those fancy drinks? The ones with the weird name?”
“Yeah, there’s more in the garage fridge.”
“Thanks, man. Hey, you okay? You seem off today.”
Shit. If Carlos noticed, I’m not hiding it as well as I thought.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because you’ve been staring at those burgers like they cussed out your mama.”
I look down at the grill. He’s right. I’ve been flipping the same burger for the past five minutes.
“Just distracted.”
“By what?”
“Nothing important.”
Carlos gives me a look that says he doesn’t buy it, but he knows better than to push. “Alright, man. But if you need to talk…”
“I don’t.”
“Okay. But if you change your mind, I’m here.”
He heads back inside, and I try to focus on the damn burgers. But my mind keeps wandering back to yesterday at the grocery store. To the way Reggie looked at me when I was talking to her daughter. To the way she watched me walk away. I could feel it all.
Years of careful distance, and it’s all going to hell because of one trip to Henderson’s Market. Fuck.
“Touchdown!” Tommy’s voice booms from inside, followed by a chorus of cheers and groans. Sounds like the game’s getting good.
I pile the burgers on a platter and head inside, where my living room looks like a hurricane hit it. Empty bottles, chip bags, pizza boxes. My coffee table’s disappeared under a mountain of food containers.
“About time,” Martinez says, grabbing a burger. “I was starting to think you forgot about us.”
“I should’ve. Look at this mess.”
“We’ll clean it up,” Jake chimes in, not taking his eyes off the TV. “Eventually.”
“Define eventually.”
“Before we leave.”
“That’s what you said last time, fucker. And I found an empty can under my couch three days later.”
“That wasn’t mine,” Jake replies.
“It was definitely yours,” Tommy adds. “Had your slobber all over it.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You’re disgusting.”
I grab a drink, shaking my head, laughing and settle into an armchair. But I can’t concentrate on the game. My mind keeps drifting to the cottage, to wondering what Reggie’s doing right now. If she’s settled in. If she needs anything.
If she’s thinking about me.
Fuck.
“Boss, you sure you’re okay?” Martinez asks during a commercial break. “You look like you’re about to punch something.”
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that, but you haven’t touched your food and you’re gripping that cup like you’re trying to strangle it.”
I look down at my hands. He’s right. My knuckles are white.
“It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Tommy says, muting the TV. “Spill.”
Great. Now I’ve got my guys staring at me like this is some kind of intervention.
“It’s personal.”
“Everything’s personal,” Carlos says. “That’s what makes it worth talking about.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad,” Tommy adds. “We’re not unmuting the TV until you tell us what’s eating at you.”
I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’m an asshole who cares. So talk.”
These guys. They’re my brothers, and sometimes I want to kill them all.
“Fine. There’s a woman.”
“Holy shit,” Jake says, perking up. “Blayne Madison has woman problems.”
“I don’t have woman problems.”
“Then what do you have?”
I take a long pull from my drink, trying to figure out how to explain this without sounding like a complete idiot.
“There’s this woman I’ve known for years. She’s… she’s been off-limits. But now she’s not. And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.”
“What do you mean, off-limits?” Martinez asks.
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated,” Tommy says. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
“She’s Mel’s daughter.”
The room goes quiet. They all know what he means to me.
“Which daughter?” Carlos asks carefully.
“The oldest one. Reggie.”
“The one who just got divorced?” Jake asks.
“Yeah.”
“And moved back to town?”
“Yeah.”
“With the three kids?”
I roll my eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Yeah.”
Tommy whistles low. “Well, shit.”
“Exactly,” I grumble.
“So what’s the problem?” Martinez asks. “She’s single, you’re single. Seems straightforward to me.”
“It’s not straightforward.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s…” I gesture vaguely, trying to find the words. “She’s educated. Classy. She was married to some rich asshole for years.”
“So?”
“So look at me. Look at where I came from.”
“I am looking at you,” Tommy says. “Looking at a great guy who owns a successful business, treats his employees like family, and has more money in the bank than most people see in a lifetime.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
The point is that I’m terrified. Terrified that if I let myself want her, really want her, she’ll take one look at my past and run. Terrified that years of keeping my guard up was the smart play, and I’m about to fuck it all up.
But I can’t say that. Not to my guys.
“The point is that she’s got three kids and a life to figure out. She doesn’t need a messed-up vet complicating things.”
“Did she say that?” Carlos asks.
“She doesn’t need to say it, brother.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I don’t answer because I don’t have a good answer. Reggie’s never said anything about my past. Hell, she’s barely ever said anything to me over the years. Not that I gave her much of a chance to interact…
“Look,” Tommy cuts into my thoughts, “I get that you’re scared. But you can’t make decisions for other people. If you’re interested, ask her out. If she says no, move on. But don’t decide for her that she’s not interested.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple. You’re just making it complicated.”
“She’s got kids.”
“So? You like kids.”
“You know I don’t know shit about kids, man.”
“You know plenty,” Martinez says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been good to my daughter. She still talks about that time you helped her with her science project.”
“That was different,” I mumble, palming the back of my neck.
“How was it different?” He shakes his head like I’m exhausting.
I don’t have an answer for that either.
“Look,” Carlos takes a turn, “here’s what I think. You’ve been carrying a torch for this woman for years. Now she’s single and living right next door to your house. You can either do something about it, or you can keep sitting on your ass, pretending you don’t want her.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“Bullshit. You haven’t been able to concentrate on anything since she got back. You burned the burgers, you’ve been snapping at everyone at work, and you just spent twenty minutes staring at your phone like a goddamn teenager.”
“I didn’t stare at my phone.”
“You did,” Jake says. “It was painful to watch.”
My lips twitch, these assholes.
“Fine. Maybe I am really interested. More than I want to be. But that doesn’t mean I should do anything about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I could hurt her. Or her kids. And I’m not gonna do that.”
“You’re not gonna hurt anyone,” Tommy says. “You’re too decent for that.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. We all do.” He turns, looking around the room, and gets nods of agreement. “The question is, do you?”
I don’t answer because I honestly don’t know. I’ve spent so many years thinking of myself as the guy who came from nothing, the guy who got lucky, the guy who doesn’t deserve the good things that happened to him.
But maybe that’s not who I am anymore. Maybe it’s time to stop defining myself by my past and start thinking about my future.
“The game’s back on,” I say, nodding toward the TV.
Tommy looks like he wants to argue, but after a beat he unmutes the volume. The guys go back to yelling at the screen, but I can feel them glancing at me every few minutes.
They’re right, and I know it. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want Reggie. I can’t keep making excuses for why I shouldn’t pursue her.
But wanting something and being brave enough to go after it are two different things.
And right now, I’m not sure which one wins.