Chapter 15
MASON
Cash had said spaghetti night would be loud, and it wasn’t a lie. With eight of us plus a child and a dog, the little dining room was pretty crammed, and noise bounced off the walls as conversations competed to be heard. I offered to put Dog outside, but Avery refused.
“No, he’s so cute!” He set down a tub of salad on the table and leaned over to give Dog a scruffing.
Dog panted happily and pretended he was a good dog, and not one who had tried to steal my phone charger again just this morning.
“Aren’t you so cute? Shoot, now I need to wash my hands again.
Wilder, can you check the garlic bread?”
“Well, it smells good,” Wilder said and headed for the kitchen.
The entire house smelled fantastic, and my stomach growled.
It had been a long time since I’d done more than eat at the kitchen table at Uncle Jim’s or, before that, at the breakfast counter in my apartment in Cincinnati.
There was something different about eating with a group of people that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with a sense of community.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing feeling like part of a group until I was in the middle of one again.
And I didn’t know these guys, not yet, but it felt like it would be easy to do.
It felt like having a group of friends like this one would be as hearty and nourishing as whatever ended up on the table when dinner was served.
I was seated with Cash beside me, and Chase was across the table with his boyfriend, Lee.
It was weird how similar the twins looked—literally identical—and yet they projected such different energy.
Cash was quiet and gentle, while Chase was loud and sharp.
But there was overlap there too, because I knew Cash could be sassy when he wanted to be, and I loved it.
And a few times when Chase glanced at Lee, I saw the same affection and adoration in his expression that Cash got with Dog and the kittens. And with me.
That realization gave me a kick in the guts, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
I hadn’t come to Goose Run looking for anything at all—not a boyfriend, not a dog, not friends—but it seemed like maybe I’d found those things anyway.
Goose Run, I’d thought, would be nothing but a dead end, which was a perfect fit for everything I’d felt about my life and my career.
But now this place was starting to feel like it could be a beginning instead.
Avery returned to the dining room with a pot of spaghetti and another of sauce and started to serve them onto plates.
The plates were then passed around the table until they got to whoever was at the end of the line.
Again, there was that sense of community, of sharing more than food as plates and utensils and side dishes did a complicated dance up and down the table.
Wilder returned from the kitchen holding a tray in his oven-mitted hands.
Cash sat up straighter. “Garlic bread!”
Wilder delivered it to him first, and he grinned.
“He goes apeshit for Avery’s garlic bread,” Chase said.
“It’s so good,” Cash agreed, and I caught one or two glances from the others, which made me wonder how quiet he usually was even among his family and friends.
“Lee’s is better,” Chase said, glaring.
Lee gave him a look that was halfway between fond and exasperated. “It’s not a competition, babe.”
Chase wrinkled his nose. “Whatever.”
“You’ll have to put up with mine, sorry,” Avery said, completely unoffended. “But Lee made apple pie for dessert.”
“Two apple pies,” Lee said. “And one apricot.”
“I call dibs on the leftovers,” Danny said.
Wilder tucked a napkin into Gracie’s shirt collar. “Leftovers? In this crowd? You’re crazy.”
“I want apricot!” Gracie said.
“Manners, sweet pea,” Wilder said, smoothing a loose tendril of hair back from Gracie’s face.
“I want apricot, please!”
“Sure,” Lee said, and Gracie beamed at him.
Cash grabbed a slice of garlic bread off Wilder’s tray and put it on the side of my bowl, and I smiled my thanks.
Farther down the table, Miller had opened his bottle of wine and was holding it up in invitation. Danny made a face but gave a cautious nod, and Avery slid a cup forward.
“Aren’t you supposed to drink wine from a wine glass?” Wilder asked. “I think we have some somewhere?”
“That’s just what Big Wine Glass wants you to believe,” Avery said. He tapped his cup against Miller’s. “Cheers.”
Danny took a sip and pulled a face. “Is it meant to taste like that?”
“Yes,” Miller and Avery answered as one, and Gracie giggled.
Danny shuddered. “Thank God that Mason brought beer!”
Dinner was great. The food was good, and the company was even better.
I’d wondered if I might not fit in with Cash’s friends, but they were a motley bunch.
An attorney, a plumber, a teacher, a baker, a barista, and Danny was a full-time student at the community college studying to become a paramedic while he also worked shifts at Goose Run Gas.
“Like, I’d love to pick your brain sometime,” he said as he dug into his spaghetti. “I know it’s not the same, but I try to tell Miller all about the gory stuff I’m learning, and he is not a receptive target.”
I laughed. “I get it. Those stories aren’t for everyone.”
“Come on,” Miller said. “Don’t start. We’re at dinner. Plus there’s a child here.”
“I like gross things,” Gracie said, and if the state of her face and her napkin was any indication, she was telling the truth. Plus most kids were fascinated by anything involving animal pee or poop.
“You should tell her about momma cats licking their babies’ butts,” Cash said, grinning.
“Maybe after we’ve eaten,” I said, “and I think Cash has some kitten pictures.” I said it like I didn’t know he had about a hundred of them.
“Kittens!” Gracie exclaimed.
She was halfway out of her seat before Wilder caught her. “Finish your dinner first, Gracie.”
She sat back down and started shoveling spaghetti into her face like she hadn’t been fed in a week.
She didn’t wait for dinner to be over. After the spaghetti, when the dishes were being cleared away to make room at the table for the promised pies, she left her seat and squeezed into the small gap between Cash’s chair and mine.
“Can I see the kittens, Uncle Cash?”
Cash pushed his chair back a little so she could sit on his lap, and they began to go through the photos on his phone.
Cash didn’t say much, but Gracie was happy enough to provide any commentary she felt necessary.
They came across a video of the little orange kitten stalking his brother’s tail, and Gracie laughed and said, “He’s bossy. He’s my favorite.”
“Mine too,” Cash said. He gave her a soft look and restarted the video.
Avery came over once he’d set the pie he was carrying on the table and watched over Cash’s shoulder. “Oh,” he said, and his gaze filled with longing. “Wilder, you need to see this.”
“Are these all your kittens?” Gracie asked me.
“No, I’m just taking care of them. They’ll be ready for new homes soon,” I said without thinking.
Gracie gasped loudly and turned wide eyes on her father, and Wilder groaned.
I sent him an apologetic look. I’d forgotten how quick little kids were to latch on to the one thing you didn’t want them to hear. It was like a superpower or something.
Wilder shook his head and sighed. “I’m already fighting a losing battle here, dude, and you’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” I said and winced.
“Avery, can we get a kitten?” Gracie asked wistfully.
“See? Straight over my head to the boss,” Wilder said.
Avery looked torn. “Maybe we can at least go visit them?”
I knew how this ended and so did Wilder. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to feel too bad about it. It was good for little kids to have pets, and if one of the kittens ended up in a good home because of Gracie’s begging, I could live with it.
“Uncle Mason’s a vet, so he’d help look after it,” Gracie said eagerly.
I wasn’t sure if I’d been promoted to uncle because Gracie was a kid who was used to bringing new people into her family or if it was a blatant attempt on her part to tip the scales in favor of getting a kitten, but either way it gave me a warm feeling inside.
Both Avery and Gracie turned pleading eyes on Wilder, and he folded like wet paper. “I guess we could go visit them if Mason says it’s okay.”
“Yes!” Gracie shouted.
“Now go sit back in your own spot and eat your pie so Uncle Cash can eat his,” Wilder said.
Gracie gave Cash a fierce hug before returning to her seat.
The apple pie was incredible. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a pie so good before.
The last apple pie I’d had was store-bought, probably back in college when I’d been stress-eating my way through exams, and this was leagues above anything from the freezer section in Walmart.
I usually had ice cream with my pie, but when the tub was passed around, I refused it because I didn’t want anything to detract from the sweet and subtle flavors of apple, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Unheard of.
“It’s good, right?” Chase demanded.
“It’s amazing,” I said, my spoon scraping the plate as I chased the last traces of filling. No wonder Wilder had said there wouldn’t be leftovers. I wondered if there was a way to get myself invited back next week without being obvious about it.
I shouldn’t have worried.
“We do spaghetti night every Sunday,” Avery said. “You’re welcome to come along whenever you can.”
I looked to Cash, and he gave me a smile. It felt like I’d passed some sort of test. Not even a test that Cash had set me, but maybe one I’d subconsciously set for myself: Can Mason Ross still make friends? Doubtful, but let’s find out!
“I’d like that,” I said. “Want me to bring something apart from beer next time?”
“Beer is always welcome,” Danny said, making a face at his wine cup.