Epigraph #3
I met my so-called best friend downtown. He was standing at the door in a black hoodie and ball cap like he was about to rob the place. Thatcher came out of the shadows. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Save it,” I grunted. Still, he put his big bear arms around me. He squeezed, and I almost dropped my fucking keys. My eyes narrowed. “You don’t ask me for shit after this.”
“I promise.”
Again, fat chance on that. I let us inside after turning off the security. I didn’t need my dad thinking someone was actually robbing the place.
I strode inside. “I’m assuming the piece is in the vault.”
“High-priority vault.”
I whipped around, and Thatcher shrugged. He had his spiked earrings in and they danced when his shoulders lifted.
“I wanted her gift to be nice,” he said, striding around me. The high-priority vault was for pieces that were so valuable they couldn’t be in the regular vault. AKA they were expensive as fuck. Like anything-over-a-million-dollars expensive as fuck.
“You must have really fucked up,” I said, and he laughed. But I wasn’t joking. “One sec. I’ll be back with it.”
“Don’t look at it,” he basically shouted at my back, and I turned around again. He rubbed his neck. “It’s just that… it’s just for her, you know?”
Okay.
Shrugging that off, I went back to the high-priority vault. I found the box labeled Thatcher Reed. It was small and square, which was typical for a piece in the store.
I came back out, and the relief Thatcher had caused me to eye him. He really was panicking that he wasn’t going to have whatever this was.
“Thanks,” he said.
But, instead of handing it to him, I went to the register.
He frowned. “What are you doing?”
I showed him the giant balance owed sticker on the piece, and he rolled his eyes.
“Bro, you know I’m good for it.”
I did, and that was even without his football money. He played professionally like me, but he also had family money like me.
My friend also knew this was a business, which was why I had family money.
Chuckling, Thatcher handed me his credit card. I ran it, then gave him the piece.
“Thank you so much. I owe you,” he said. “You didn’t look at it, did you?”
“No, I didn’t look at it.”
“Good.”
He was being fucking weird, but that was Thatcher Reed.
I led us both out of the store, and, as I was locking up, Thatcher lingered.
“So, let’s say I did mess up. If that’s the case, what’s the perfect thing to say to Aspen to make up for it?” he asked.
I smirked. I figured he did something, considering how much he spent.
Thatcher’s throat moved. “You’re better with words than I am.”
I was. I finished locking up, then came over to him. “It’s not about the words. Let your heart do the speaking and the rest will come into place.”
Thatcher smiled a little.
I put my arm around him. “But you won’t be speaking at all if you ever call me this late again. I will literally cut out your fucking tongue and feed it to you.”
I patted his chest for emphasis, and he rolled his eyes. I started to walk off, and he waved at me.
“Thanks, D.”
I flipped him off, hearing him laugh behind me. I was missing the warm heat in my bed, but I did eventually wave back at my friend. I genuinely hoped he worked out whatever was going on. He and Aspen were perfect for each other, and she brought out the best in him.
Our girls brought out the best in all of us.
Sloane
Thatcher was acting… weird. He asked to use my audiovisual equipment, but that was only after waking Dorian up in the middle of the night to get into his dad’s jewelry store. Thatcher said the AV stuff was for a project for Aspen, and it was an emergency.
I let him into my studio downtown. I had one here in Maywood Heights, even though Dorian and I lived on the coast.
I gave Thatcher my camera and some other things he asked for. “Thanks, Sloane,” he said. Then he shrugged. “I had no idea Aspen was going to be flying in so early this morning.”
He said he wanted to shoot something for her and didn’t have much time. I eyed him. “This better not be to shoot porn for her.”
Thatcher blanched. “What? No,” he said, but then rubbed his neck. “I mean, is that an option?”
I shoved his big ass. No, that wasn’t an option, and if that was what was going on here, I was going to take my stuff right the fuck back. That was just gross. Like, beyond gross. I didn’t care what he did in his spare time, but he wasn’t going to use my stuff for it.
“I’m just kidding. Jesus,” he said, his grin wiry. I offered to help him take everything outside to his car, but he refused. He was being all macho; that was just how these boys were.
“You better be careful with my shit,” I said, yawning.
It was early as fuck, and the only reason I was able to get out was because Dorian was still sleeping.
He was only half coherent when I told him Thatcher needed something again, from me this time.
Had he known, he probably would have told Thatcher to stop being weird and go to sleep.
I had no idea what was so urgent, but Dorian said last night that Thatcher had fucked up or something.
“Of course I’ll be careful.” Thatcher closed the trunk of his Audi. He placed a hand on his chest. “It’s me, right?”
I pointed at him. “Exactly why I’m worried.”
He smirked. “Relax, Sloane. I know how important your stuff is to you and your work.”
It was. I didn’t do a lot of AV art, but I used it to capture my artwork sometimes.
Thatcher leaned a shoulder against his ride. “Anyway, Dorian would fucking kill me if I messed up your shit.”
Oh, that was a given and was really why I was trusting him to use it. He wouldn’t risk a friendship with one of his oldest friends.
I scrubbed into my hair. “Do you know how to use everything?”
“I think so,” he said, eyeing his car. I gave him a little tutorial in my studio, but he was Mr. Tech Guy anyway. This guy literally was a hacker in college.
“Cool.” I nodded. “Well, best of luck.”
“Thanks.”
I got into Dorian’s Audi, then I heard Thatcher yelling at me through the window. I put it down. “What?”
Thatcher rocked on his high-tops, which was a little unusual. “Back in high school you and Dorian had some stuff going on.”
My brow lifted. “Stuff?”
“You know, him keeping stuff from you.”
Oh, yeah, that. I shrugged. “So?”
He took a beat before rubbing his neck again. He dropped his hand. “But, against all odds, you forgave him. What about him made you want to do that?”
I didn’t know why, but I smiled. My head tilted. “Everything okay? With you and Aspen I mean?”
His head jerked up. “Oh, yeah. Fine. You know what? Sorry I bothered you. I’ll get your equipment back to you ASAP, and it will be in perfect condition. I promise.”
He started to walk toward his own car, but he stopped when I called out to him.
“Dorian has a way of making me feel safe,” I said, grinning. “And I know you’re that for Aspen, too. You guys are perfect for each other, Thatcher. I know Aspen sees that, too.”
The way those two were together reminded me of Dorian and me.
Thatcher stared at the ground for a second, his smile slow. He gazed up. “Thanks, Sloane.”
I saluted him through my window, which made him laugh, then I wished him luck. I didn’t think he needed it, though. Those two were magic.
They were destiny.
Wells
“Unkie Thatchy! Unkie Thatchy!” Bailee jumped out of the sandbox and beelined toward Thatcher. He was coming from the parking lot and picking up speed toward my kid.
I frowned. “Be careful.”
Thatcher was, like, three hundred times the size of my kid, and when he swung her around with crazy-ass momentum, I started to head over there.
Bru placed a hand on my shoulder. “She’s fine. Thatcher won’t hurt her.”
He wouldn’t on purpose. I grunted but held back. That was until Thatcher started tossing her in the air. The fucker never knew his own strength. He didn’t have kids, so he had no idea how to handle them right.
Bru didn’t stop me this time when I went to stop Thatcher, but he did laugh.
Bow did too. Her laptop was on her lap, working on some projects she had going on at the office.
Bow waved at her brother from the park bench where she sat, and Thatcher waved back.
He had Bailee on his shoulders at this point, and I growled.
“That’s enough of that,” I said, taking her down.
“Relax, Wells. I know how to handle my niece,” Thatcher said, then proceeded to tickle Bailee in my arms. She giggled fiercely, and that never ceased to warm the ice-cold muscle in my chest. These days, my heart definitely wasn’t so cold. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time it was.
I smiled despite myself, then handed Bailee back to her uncle.
Thatcher continued to tickle B, and Bru came over.
Biologically, he was Bailee’s dad. She had his chestnut-brown hair and wide grin.
She also had his and her mother’s kindness; but she was all of ours.
The three of us had been together and unbreakable since college.
“’Sup, Thatch,” Bru said, putting a hand out. Thatcher tucked Bailee under his arm to receive it, and I growled again.
Thatcher rolled his eyes at me, and I shook my head. My eyes narrowed. “Just wait until you and Aspen have a kid. It’ll be payback.”
And that shit was a bitch.
Thatcher started to laugh but stopped quickly.
His eyes flashed a little. Possibly at me mentioning him and Aspen having children.
I mean, we all knew that shit was coming and sometimes you didn’t really have a choice.
Bailee came as a surprise to us. Bru and I got Bow pregnant in college.
Well, she’d been in college. Bru and I had graduated the year before.
It wasn’t a surprise we were ready for, but it was so welcome. Being a dad was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Thatcher got his smile back after Bailee hugged him. She wiggled, and he put her back down on her feet.
She tugged my pant leg. “Papa, slide?”
I started to go that way until Bru took her hand.