21. Wade
21
WADE
The next day was a clusterfuck from the word go.
It started at dawn, with August already up and puttering around the house to make sure it was ready for company instead of snuggling up against me.
Then Bob called in sick and I had to hustle in to work without making breakfast.
When I came home for my lunch break, I found Chick and August in the backyard, dangling their legs in the pool as they ate fries with Texas toast and gravy, which he’d had his driver stop for on the way from the airport.
“My first authentic southern meal,” he said with a wink, wiping his hands on a paper napkin before getting to his feet. “Pedro said he’d take me out while I was here and show me what real Texas fare tasted like, but I was in a hurry to get to our girl, so this will do for now. We brought you some too. Chicken fingers and gravy. I hear it’s all the rage.”
I was lost already. “Pedro?”
“My Lyft driver.” If I hadn’t known what a roguish grin was before, I did now. “He looks like Pedro Pascal’s twin. His real name is Tim, but he was so flattered by the comparison he said I was free to call him whatever I liked.”
Chick hadn’t been in town for an hour and he already had a date. August had been right. Despite the height difference, he immediately reminded me of Kingston, with that sophisticated, well-manicured air—only his air was quintessential California. He almost looked like a movie star himself, tanned and sculpted and what Oscar would call “highfalutin,” even in bare feet with his linen pants rolled up to his knees.
“Wade Hudson, meet Chick Martin, my bestie from out westie,” August said, leaning back on her hands and grinning up at me like she’d read my mind.
I raised my eyebrows at her with a, “What? No hug?” expression.
Chick had no problem reading my look. He immediately wrapped his arms around my neck and smashed his lips to my cheek with a loud “Mwah!” then moved away before I could think about elbowing the man, or maybe hugging him back. I wasn’t sure. He was…what was that word August had tossed out the other day? Discombobulating.
“Sorry, I had to get that out of the way,” he said warmly. “I feel like I’ve known you for years. And you weren’t lying, August. He does have tricolored eyes.”
Huh. That was from her books. The tricolored eye guy was the hero, right?
“Chick,” August said in a warning tone.
“I’m not revealing secrets, sunshine. You told me he knows your work.” He tossed me a subtle wink, as if we were old friends, then grabbed a paper sack off the table and handed it to me. It was still warm from sitting in the sun. “Come join us.”
“Thanks.” My neck and ears were hot as I took the sack. No way was I pulling off my boots and socks to dip my big, sweaty feet in the pool with theirs. Not in the middle of a workday. Instead, I ate in a chair on the shady side of the table and let their conversation wash over me in a tumbling stream of musical sound that barely seemed to pause for breath.
You’d think they didn’t talk every single day .
The food and the company were fine, but I was already in a mood, and the fact that August was our girl now only made it worse. I was spoiled, having her to myself for the last few weeks, and I couldn’t help feeling like the odd man out.
As soon as I finished my food, I stood up and cleared my throat. “Duty calls.”
“Already? You just got here.” August jumped up and hurried over, taking the paper sack from my hand. “You’ll be at the meeting tonight?”
“Where else would I be?”
She laughed. “Right, sorry.” Then she went up on her toes to brush a kiss across my lips—no lingering pressure or even a hint of tongue. “I’m covering for Patty for a couple of hours this afternoon, so I’ll see you there.”
I scowled all the way back to the garage, and Oscar and Dalton both did their best to avoid me for the rest of the afternoon. I’d just installed a set of shocks and was working on an alignment when my phone buzzed with a text.
Morgan: I have something I need to show you. Can I borrow you for a few minutes? My place?
I dragged my hand down my face with a sigh. Ordinarily I’d be glad to drop by Morgan’s to blow off some steam over coffee. But I wanted to talk about August, and Morgan didn’t know about us yet.
Me: Sure. What time?
Morgan: Anytime. I’m on my way home.
Me: Be there in 20.
I wasn’t accomplishing much anyway, so I let Dalton know he’d be closing up and took off.
When I rang Morgan’s doorbell, she took one look at me and said, “One of those days, huh?”
I didn’t need to reply, following her into the dining room and sitting in the chair she pointed at while she went to the refrigerator. Instead of the beer I expected, she set my favorite iced coffee in front of me. Even better. She must have picked it up on her way here.
“Thanks,” I said before taking a long pull from the straw. “What are you doing home from school?”
She was still in the I Mean Business salmon-pink suit she usually wore to moderate parent-teacher meetings.
“I scheduled a teacher in-service and took a few hours of personal time. They won’t notice. I left the dogs at daycare, because I wanted to catch you before you went to the meeting tonight with no interruptions.”
Instead of joining me at the table, she stood there sipping her own coffee and staring at me. It was making me nervous. Did she already know about Gus and me? Was I here so she could read me the riot act?
Sure, dumbass, she bought you your favorite coffee to punish you.
Before I could ask what was up, my phone buzzed with another text.
Unknown: I hear I’m going to be a great-granddad. I didn’t get an invite to a wedding. Like mother like daughter? I’ll be driving through town next week if you want to buy your old man a beer so we can catch up.
I dropped the phone on the table like it had sprouted fangs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Fuck this day.
He hadn’t reached out in ten years, and this was the first thing he decided to say? I wanted to break something. If Bernie saw this text, it would break her heart, no matter how brave a front she put up. Phoebe had no idea what he was like, and I never wanted her to. He didn’t deserve either of them.
“What is it, Wade?”
Instead of explaining, I tapped in my code and slid the phone her way.
“That son of a bitch,” she breathed as she read it, setting down her coffee with a thump. “Part of me wants you to invite him over here for a beer now, so I can kick his ass.”
I almost smiled. Morgan would eviscerate the old bastard, and she wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’d seen her in action.
“Phoebe’s going to have the baby anytime,” I said instead. “I don’t want him here tainting that.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry he’s such a shit, Wade. How did he know? Did Yvonne tell him?”
“Probably. I can’t think how else he could have found out.”
My stepmother may have divorced him, but she was very into spirituality and all about forgiveness. She believed everyone deserved an endless supply of second chances. That it was never too late to change. That the waste of space who’d sired me might suddenly transform into a loving family man and actually stick around. It was bullshit, and we all knew it. I decided to punch out a quick reply.
Me: Lose this number, jackass.
I wanted to say more. That he’d never been a father or a grandfather to any of us, and we were fine without him. But it was healthier for me not to waste my time.
I loved my family, and he’d never been a part of it. Simple as that. I’d have to block this number and talk to Yvonne about doing the same.
I sighed. “He’s not worth the air it would take to talk about him. I’m over it. You said you had something to show me?”
Morgan shook off her anger on my behalf and clapped her hands together. “Yes. And thankfully, this is much better news. Good enough to make you forget all about that jerk. Don’t move.”
She rushed to the kitchen island and picked up a thick file, which she laid in front of me with a flourish. Then she sat down in the chair next to mine and reached for her coffee again. “Go on. Open it.”
The way my day was going, odds were low I’d be as excited as she was, but I opened the folder anyway. Right on top of the pile was a printout of a two-story house I vaguely recognized. “This is right around the corner from here, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” She slid it over to reveal more pictures of the house’s interior. “They let me come in and take these myself. It has a three -car garage, Wade. Did you know I was practically neighbors with a retired football player? Because I didn’t. He and his wife built this house with big-guy comfort in mind. The kitchen is huge. The doors are all extra wide. The upstairs is a man-cave-style game room and the bathtub is basically a swimming pool. Oh…” She shuffled more papers. “The backyard has pool too. A lap pool an d a built-in outdoor kitchen with a grill. It’s got everything you wanted and then some.”
It was a nice house—really nice—and I’d been sort of interested when I thought she and Gene might be thinking of upgrading to move there themselves. Then the “everything you wanted” caught up with me.
“Why am I looking at pictures of someone else’s house, Morgan?”
“Because it’s going to be yours.”
Damn it, she was beaming like Anna showing Kristoff his new sleigh (I’d lost a bet and had to watch Frozen with Phoebe. It wasn’t that bad).
“How do you figure that?” I asked carefully.
“Since your real estate agent wasn’t helping and the rental site wasn’t offering you anything you liked, I started asking around. It was no trouble. It turns out they only decided to move out of state after the hurricane. They were planning to put it up for sale next week, but I caught them before they could, and now they’re holding it so you can make an offer. Don’t worry, I made sure it was in your price range. Gene says he can’t wait to barbecue over at your place and lounge in the pool.”
She’d already shown this to Gene?
They were holding it? For me ?
It really is a great house.
I pushed the papers away. “I appreciate all the effort you went to, but you should tell them to go ahead and put it on the market.”
She stared at me for a moment, looking genuinely confused. “I don’t understand.”
“The apartment is fine for me. With the race and work and the baby coming, I don’t have the time or energy to do a big move, buy furniture, and shop for lawnmowers at the moment. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on right now? ”
Shit. “I just told you.”
“And I just put your dream home right in front of you, after you’ve spent the last four months describing to me in detail what you wanted. That apartment is too small for you to turn around in comfortably, and you already know Bernie and I can help you with the furniture shopping. So, I repeat: What is going on right now?”
“I’m happy where I am,” I told her impatiently. “If it’s still available when I’m ready to move, I’ll think about it again. But right now, I’m saying no. Don’t push this.”
“Sure. Fine. That makes total sense.” She got up and gathered the papers back into the file, her temper making the simple task more violent than it should have been. “I only wasted a week and invaded these people’s home while getting their hopes up for nothing.”
“You should have talked to me first.”
“I have talked to you. For months. What’s changed since the last time you said this was what you wanted? Phoebe was still pregnant then. You were still working then. A race was still going to be happening then, because a race is always happening. If you’re staying at the apartment as some favor to me and Mom because you’re worried August won’t be able to cover her bills next?—”
“That’s enough, Morgan.” I stayed in my chair, aware of my size and my anger, my fists clenched on the table. “I’m doing this for me. I’m not ready to leave her yet. I’m sorry that doesn’t fit in with your plans and schedules, but I am capable of making my own decisions for my own damn life.”
She deflated like a balloon, dropping the file on the table as her anger gave way to dawning awareness. “You’re not ready to leave her yet? Is there something going on between you and my sister, Wade?”
Well hell. I hadn’t wanted her to find out like this. “There is.”
She sat back down without her usual grace, her big eyes wide and a little glazed with what looked like shock. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I didn’t think she was your type or I would have been setting you up with very different women over the years.” She hesitated. “August is another story. You know she had a crush on you when she was younger, right?”
“My sister mentioned something about that.”
“Bernie knows.” She nodded numbly. “How long has this been going on then? And why am I suddenly out of the loop about everything related to August? Does she still hate me for trying to help?”
I shook my head, suddenly exhausted. “She loves you and so do I. What’s between us has nothing to do with you.” Since we were laying our cards on the table, I finally gave voice to what had been bothering me. “You should know that her friend Chick flew in today. He’s invited her to move to San Diego with him after the race. She’s been fixing up her house to put it on the market.”
We’ve been fixing up her house. Because you are a dumbass.
Instead of more shock, there was resignation in Morgan’s expression. “I think I knew. Ever since Mom died, I had a feeling this was coming. I’m surprised she stayed this long. She probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t signed a mortgage.”
“And you’re okay with it? Her moving so far away from home again?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been okay with it, Wade. That’s why I stayed behind as soon as the opportunity presented itself. But August never did. I thought maybe she would when she was old enough, but she kept right on traveling and never complaining about it. The longest she’s stayed at a single address was when she lived with her ex for five years before she moved here. So, I can love her and try to be there if she needs me, but if she’s anything like our mother…” She swallowed hard. “Nothing I do can make her stay.”
It felt like a warning. Like the death knell for my plans. What made me think I was different? That I could do enough and be enough to keep her here, when so many of the other people in my life had no problem walking away?
“I am so fucked.”
Morgan put her hand on my arm, looking more sympathetic than I had any right to expect, but she didn’t tell me I was wrong.
AUGUST
“Can I get a Shiner?”
“On its way.” I slid the metal lid of the bar cooler up to grab the requested beverage and popped open the bottle top with ease. When I set it on the counter and made change, the guy dumped it all in my tip jar with a wink before walking away.
“You’re getting pretty good at that, little lady,” Chick twanged from his stool on the other side of the counter. “Are you sure you don’t have any sarsaparilla hiding in one of those magic coolers?”
“For the last time,” I said with a grin, “this isn’t a saloon, it’s an icehouse. And before you ask me again, I’m not calling you Tex.”
“This job is making you cocky.” He leaned on his forearms and gave me a knowing look. “Or is something cocky stroking that ego , Mrs. Roper?”
“Why do you have to emphasize everything?” I blushed, glancing around the bar to make sure no one was paying attention. I was enjoying this new position of authority as the keeper of all the beer, but I knew it was temporary. I also knew they’d stop asking for my take on world events and the latest Jelly Roll song to tease me about my love life if we didn’t keep it down.
“We can talk about it later,” I told him meaningfully. “Right now, I’d rather know why Tim, aka Pedro, is over there trying to pretend he’s not giving you puppy dog eyes.”
We’d only had a couple of hours to talk before I needed to get ready for my shift, and once I was able to stop hugging the poor man, we’d made the time count. Though he still hadn’t said a word about his wrestler drama, I was already acquainted with his very attractive Lyft driver.
Chick slanted a smug glance toward the end of the bar. “I may have mentioned I was coming here after he dropped me off at your house today. Maybe he’s hoping one of us will need a ride home.”
“He’s hoping you’ll need a ride. Period.”
It was clearly my lot in life to be surrounded by magnetic people who were almost too good-looking. Chick liked to joke that he was the result of very rich, very attractive people breeding with some of the fairies from my books, because while he only topped out at five-six, he had a James Dean/Kurt Russell vibe about him—perfect jawline, dimpled chin, and a thick head of dirty blond hair in a style that looked like it cost a fortune (Because it did). Tonight, he was wearing a snug white T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, an outfit that had clearly never been worn before. He’d said he was trying to blend in, but his fresh-out-of-the-box “western style,” with that face? I’d already caught most of the women and half the men checking him out.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” he replied patiently for the dozenth time. “Though I was expecting a small-town welcome parade, or the key to the city. I was definitely hoping for people to be square dancing instead of sitting around listening to Tom Petty on the jukebox and munching nachos. I’ve seen a lot of movies, and they all lied about small towns.”
“They always lie. And this is not a small town.”
“But it is. From what I saw on my drive here, this part of Texas is nothing but a series of small towns bordered by strip malls. You just call them suburbs and neighborhoods.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Or the fact that he’d seen a lot of movies. So had I. We’d each actually seen several of them from the other side of the camera. I always thought it was why we’d clicked the way we did at that book convention ten years ago. We were both latchkey kids of the film industry. Though admittedly, we’d come at the experience from very different angles.
Where I grew up with a mom who pinched pennies to make a four-to-six-month paycheck last an entire year, Charles Robin Schneider IV was born wealthy, connected, and inexplicably put out about it. His family had had greater expectations for their son than writing bad, straight-to-streaming science fiction movies for truckloads of cash under the name Chick Martin. He’d responded to those expectations by officially changing his name to piss them off.
Despite his rebellion, he was still a product of that upbringing. He spent money too easily and had gone through an impressive list of red-carpet-ready men in his never-ending search for The One. He also expected life to work out for him in a way I honestly couldn’t relate to, but he was a great friend who’d been in my corner from the moment we met.
He was the only one from my old friend group who’d stayed in touch with me over the last few years. He’d never stopped calling. When I was sick, he demanded “proof of life” Zoom calls, where we’d eat popcorn and gossip or watch a movie together, adding humorous commentary throughout, just because. I’d given him a dozen outs, but thankfully, he’d never taken me up on any of them. I was incredibly lucky to have him in my life.
“I think the players are starting to gather,” Chick said in a low-pitched voice, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve seen photos, but is that your brother-in-law in the bright-pink shirt over there?”
I followed his subtle head tilt. “The one and only.”
“Those pictures don’t do him justice.”
“Pictures of math nerds the size of linebackers rarely do,” I said dryly. “No photo can truly encapsulate the aura of a man who’s fanatical about Tolkien but hates Harry Potter because ‘children saving the world isn’t realistic.’ But tiny hobbits? No problem.”
Chick chuckled. We’d had this conversation before. “I already love him.”
“Wait until you meet Lucy. On your left.”
He was heading right toward us with a red beard and a smile. “Hey there, little sister.”
“My hurricane hero.”
He buffed his nails on his black bowling shirt. He must have a collection of those in every available color. “I do love being appreciated. Are you about done yet? We tried to time it right, but I haven’t seen Gene this impatient since the night before he married Morgan. It can’t be healthy for him to get this worked up at his age.”
“You’re the same age.”
“Not where it counts.” He winked and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re putting a few tables together and we’ll need a couple of pitchers of beer, some nachos, a personal pizza and an order of plain tortillas with that green salsa Rick loves.”
“You got it. Let me get those orders in and I’ll hand over the reins to Patty. I should be finished by the time Wade and the others get here. This is my friend Chick, by the way.”
Lucy’s grin was all charm as he shook Chick’s hand and welcomed him to Texas. “I heard you were coming.” He sent a sideways look my way. “I heard about Bernadette too.”
“I thought you might have.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re kicking over a hornet’s nest, woman. I mean, I like your style and I’m one hundred percent on your side. But don’t tell my boys.”
Chick chuckled. “That’s some heavy CYA you’re throwing down, but your secret’s safe with us.”
I turned in the food order to Frank, the young cook manning the tiny kitchen, then sent a text to Bernie and Wade to hurry them along before pulling the pitchers of beer. By the time I’d deposited them on the tables, along with a tray of glasses, the food was up in the kitchen window. Three trays. There was no way carrying them all at once would end well.
“Let me help you with that, Gus.”
I turned, glad Wade’s body shielded me from view, because there was no hiding my cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. “Hey boss. I thought you’d be here earlier.”
His answering grin looked like he’d swallowed something much less pleasant. “Morgan wanted to see me about something and then I had some thinking to do. But I’m here now.”
I had to remind myself that they’d been friends and neighbors for decades. Of course they’d talk, and it didn’t have to be about me. “I texted her earlier to see if she wanted to stop by, meet Chick and be a part of the meeting. She said she was busy.”
“Before it messes with your head, it’s not because of you—she hasn’t been more than a silent supporter and occasional spectator in years.”
Maybe not, but his expression still said he wasn’t telling me everything.
“Hey, man,” Frank said through the window. “How are the puppies doing?”
“Dalton’s on babysitting detail.” Wade’s smile warmed considerably now that he wasn’t talking to me.
“I’ve put myself on the adoption list for one when they’re weaned,” Frank said.
Wade snorted. “You and everybody else. ”
“What puppies?” Chick asked, looking back and forth between Wade and me.
“A stray dog the guys were feeding at the garage gave birth to puppies a few weeks ago,” I told him. Wade had been showing me pictures of one in particular that I’d already halfway fallen in love with, but he hadn’t asked if I wanted her yet. Not that I should be thinking about puppies when I had Merlin to take care of.
And right now, I cared more about why the man who’d rocked my world on Chick’s bed, and later, after my shift at the icehouse, taken me in my own as if it were our first time again, was avoiding eye contact and talking about the puppies without me. We’d agreed to keep our relationship under the radar, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to act like we were strangers.
He’d been like this all day. His first meeting with Chick had been pleasant enough, but it hadn’t taken long for him to excuse himself and head back out to work again.
He was giving you space. And it isn’t like you’re a couple. Not really.
Was that it? Or was he still upset that we had company and had to limit our time together?
No. There was more to it than that. I could feel it.
He picked up two of the trays. “I’ll take these and you can bring the other.”
“Thank you,” I said, my tone sounding off even to my ears.
He set one right back down and snagged my hand, giving it a quick squeeze where no one could see. “I’ve got your back over there. You’ll be on the team by the time this is over.”
Was that what he thought I was worried about?
“That’s the goal,” I said as he took both trays and left me wondering about his mood.
When I rounded the bar and set the last tray down to get a better grip, Chick gave a low whistle. “The infamous Captain Wade Hudson. ”
I gave him a blank look. “Captain?”
“I’ve been writing another space western in my head since I heard his accent and saw his smile this afternoon. He’s got a McConaughey-before-he-went-out-of-fashion vibe combined with the physical look of Joe Manganiello during his massively fit werewolf years. I bet he’d grow a panty-dropping beard. He’s obviously a little grumpy, but it’s no wonder you’ve always been so gone on the man. Not to mention the fact that his name is perfection. Wade Hudson. Howdy, Captain Wade,” he drawled. “Want a taste of my sweet sass-parilla before we jump to light speed and take off all our clothes?”
I leaned against his side and smiled. “You’re ridiculous but I love you.”
“You have great taste. Now who is that stunning Black man with the camera joining their table?”
“ That is Kingston Haywood, my brother’s old buddy who went to the Big Apple to be famous,” Bernie said from the stool on Chick’s other side. “Now he’s back to teach college students where to point their cameras, for some reason.”
I’d been so distracted by Wade’s aloofness that I’d missed the moment my worlds collided. “Chick, meet Bernie.”