Chapter 27 Jed #2
I know I should find this all extremely ridiculous and juvenile—what group of grown men wear friendship bracelets, ones that have been specifically designed just for them? But fuck if I don’t want one of my own.
Shane’s smile hooks up. “You really want one?”
After that hopeful tone, there’s no way in hell I’d ever say no. “Yeah, Surfer Boy. Bracelet me up.”
He wiggles his wrist in front of us. “I did a couple for funsies too.” He spins one that’s white and blue, where the blue is peaked over like waves.
“It’s my Florida boy tribute. Ocean waves.
And then this one is because watermelon’s refreshing as fuck in the Florida heat.
” He spins one with pink triangles bordered in green.
Somehow he managed to get black dots in each of the slices. I have to say, I’m impressed.
I reach for one with faded blue beads and softly run my fingers over it. “What’s this one for? It looks worn.”
His smile turns soft, and he wrinkles his nose as he slowly spins one of the beads, gaze locked on it. “First one I ever made with my mom. Well, the beads are original, anyway. Obviously, the yarn didn’t last. I’ve threaded those beads into countless bracelets over the years.”
“You make these with your mom?”
His stare flicks to mine beneath his lashes. “Yeah. It was our thing. During the little time we had to spend together.”
The organ in my chest goes butter soft. How am I supposed to resist this man?
He’s sunshine in human form, warmth and comfort and happiness.
I don’t think I realized how much of that I lacked in my life until he showed up.
How much I need it. I was content going through the motions in my gloom-covered routine.
One foot in front of the other as I chased the big leagues.
The journey there didn’t matter. I didn’t need to enjoy it.
I just wanted to hurry up and get to my destination.
Shane makes me want to slow down.
“So, ah…what design do you think you’d want? I can show you more…”
Shit. I’ve been sitting here staring at him. I sip my beer just to do something and think it over. It comes to me instantly. “Sunshine. I want a bracelet of sunshine.”
He stills. His eyes search mine as he nods slowly. “I can work with that,” he whispers.
Winters comes back with the fresh pitcher, but I pass since I’m driving. Unless it’s a craft beer—which this shit definitely isn’t—I’m usually a one and done anyway. I drank enough alcohol during my darker days.
“How are Thompson and Araujo doing?” Olander asks, craning his head around. He checks his phone. “Only two minutes left.”
“Weird. I don’t see Thompson anywhere,” Nebs says and stands to survey the crowd. “Speaking of other halves. Where’s yours?”
I bite back my who cares. This night would be a completely different experience if Dev were here.
Olander chuckles and leans back, cracking his knuckles as his biceps flex. The man is literally jacked. Which is saying something, since I’m not a small guy. “Said he couldn’t get away from the ol’ ball and chain. Wife wouldn’t let him out.”
“I wonder why,” I mutter.
“Don’t be a dick, Stone.” Olander glares at me, his hard jaw tightening. “Kind of fucked she won’t let him come out with us. And that’s not where it ends. You should hear some of the shit Dev has told me. She’s controlling as fuck.”
I gape at him. I can’t tell if Olander is oblivious. Completely misguided. Or just as big of an asshole as Devereux.
“Bro, you cannot be serious,” Shane says incredulously.
“I’ve been on the Clippers for, like, a month now, and I’ve seen Dev hook up with at least five women who were not his wife.
I’ve also seen how much money he throws down on drinks.
We don’t make jack shit for salary. I know his type.
He needs a literal ball and chain to keep him in line. ”
Olander’s glare wavers. Something passes over his expression, there and gone so fast I almost think my eyes are deceiving me. But it almost looked like…desperation. Like a man trapped. But then he presses on. “He said they have an open relationship. She’s totally fine with it.”
I snort as I’m taking a sip of my beer and end up spitting it all over the table. Shane pats my back and shakes his head at Olander.
“Sure, she is, Olander,” Nebiolo says. “You just keep believing everything Dev tells you.”
Araujo slides into his empty seat and slams his palm on the table. “I totally have this in the bag!”
He looks around. “Where’s Thompson? I know time’s up because I’m actually a minute late. But the redhead with the freckles. Damn, she was cute.”
“You and your freckles,” Shane says with a laugh. “You have a freckle fetish, man?”
“Honestly. Yeah,” Araujo says, grinning. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Thompson says in a rush as he slides up to the table. His cheeks are rosy, and his wavy, ear-length dark hair is a total mess.
Araujo frowns at Thompson. “Are you sweating? What were you doing, running around to get numbers?”
Thompson shrugs sheepishly. “Ah. I think I lost this one, guys. I only got one number.”
A laugh bursts from Araujo. “Duuuude. I told you I was going to win. I got six.” He taps his phone to show us the numbers, then hits the lock button and spins it. “Pathetic, Thompson.”
Thompson falls heavily onto the free chair next to Araujo. “Maybe. Maybe not. You may have gotten more numbers, but you aren’t the one who just got blown behind the bar.”
Our table goes up in hoots and hollers.
“Damn, bro,” Shane says, awe in his voice. “That’s like the equivalent of ten phone numbers.”
I turn to him. “How? How do you possibly determine that?”
Nebiolo rubs his chin. “Shane’s got a point. That definitely has to count for extra. So, how do we determine the winner?”
I glance around the table, but my attention freezes on Araujo. His jaw is flexing in a way that has me certain he’s grinding his teeth; his tanned complexion that’s usually smooth is turning a blotchy mauve.
“What if we call it a tie?” Olander says as he leans his huge forearms on the table and shoots the guys a placating grin.
“You want to know what? I don’t give a fuck,” Araujo spits out. He shoves back from the table, his chair crashing to the floor. “Thompson can have the fucking title.” He storms off.
The table goes silent. Um. I exchange wide-eyed glances with Shane, Nebiolo, and Winters.
“I thought a tie was fair…” Olander looks around at all of us, his blue-gray eyes round.
“Maybe…I should go after him,” Thompson says awkwardly and hurries after his friend.
Shane leans into me and drops his voice. “That was weird. I’m getting major jealousy vibes, am I right?”
I follow Thompson's lean frame as he hurries toward the exit. “You might be right,” I murmur. “Have you ever noticed Thompson has a lot of freckles?”
Our gazes meet, and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Shit.”
My thoughts exactly. Maybe we’re not the only two with secrets.