Rayne laughed, a soft, delicate sound, but apparently, Wood didn’t find it amusing. After Mike and Wood’s one fight a few months ago after he’d hurt Trent and sent him running, Mike had been ready to fulfill the promise he’d made to do some permanent damage to Wood if he ever hurt his son. Needless to say, it didn’t take Wood long to fix his fuckup and never make that mistake again. While it was true Mike had turned his life around, it was only so far his rehabilitation reached… and where it ended.
“Hope you don’t mind Rayne tagging along. He needed a ride to a meeting that’s close to the shop. So I thought I’d multitask.” Wood shrugged his big shoulder.
“Is that what you thought?” Mike gritted out. No, it was not okay that he’d brought Rayne. Mike didn’t want anyone, especially him, to see him like this, getting sprung from the Breaks holding tank like some common thug.
Mike knew he looked and smelled like hell. He didn’t even want to think about how his breath was probably giving the usual scent of Trent’s work truck—that always smelled of Sheetrock and work boot insoles—a serious challenge. If Rayne smelled half as good as he looked, Mike couldn’t tell because his own funk was overpowering it.
“Tough night, I presume. Are you okay?” Rayne asked in a soft tenor. It wasn’t condescending or offensive. It sounded like real concern.
“I’m good.” Instead of explaining what had happened to land him in jail and rattling off a bunch of lame excuses, Mike kept his stinking mouth shut. He didn’t engage either of them in light conversation by asking how Rayne’s stay had been at the trailer so far or how business had been with Wood’s ever-growing clientele at the tattoo shop he managed on the oceanfront. Nope. He stayed quiet.
“Rayne, I’ll drop you off first. I know it’s going a little backwards from Mike’s house, but I don’t want you to miss the meeting. It starts in twenty minutes,” Wood said, already taking the exit ramp off the interstate. “If I drop Mike off first, you’ll miss the first half hour.”
“No. It’s fine,” Rayne interjected smoothly. “I can wait around for the afternoon one. It’s not like I have anything else to do. Maybe I’ll walk up the strip and see if I find any ‘now hiring’ signs.”
“That’s hours away from now. I’m almost there. Mike doesn’t mind, do ya?” Wood elbowed him in the side as if to show Rayne, See? It’s all good.
Mike nodded stiffly, his lips sealed.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Rayne said after a few moments, his voice sounding more somber, as if his smooth façade had slipped for a moment.
Mike thought he felt a puff of minty-smelling warmth drift across his rough cheek, but he was most likely imagining that.
Wood kept checking on Rayne in the rearview mirror, his mouth opening and closing as if he was unsure if he should say what was on the tip of his tongue or not. Mike frowned, wondering what the hell was going on. It took a few tries, but just as Wood turned into the parking lot of the century-old Methodist church, he seemed to finally gather up the nerve. His voice was deep, but his tone was sorrowful. “I feel bad about this morning, Rayne. I know you heard us… I know that’s why you have to get to a meeting this morning.” Wood glanced out of the driver’s-side window as if he couldn’t bear to look in Rayne’s eyes any longer… or Mike’s. “I swear we thought you were out running.”
“It’s okay,” Rayne said back too fast to mean it. “I’m fine. It’s your place… I’m just visiting.”
Mike wasn’t liking any part of this conversation. Not Wood talking about fucking his son or Rayne’s answer about “only visiting.”
“And I’m sorry for the other day when you caught us in the bathroom…”
“For fuck’s sake,” Mike bit out around a clenched jaw, but his curse was ignored.
Wood pulled up to the curb and put the gear in park. He kept talking, but he still wasn’t quite making eye contact. “I don’t want you to go, Rayne. I can… I, um. We’ll do better in the future so—”
“Sharing a bathroom with three men is hard. Come on, Wood. You’ve lived in a halfway house.” Rayne feigned a light chuckle, fidgeting with his thumbnail as if he just wanted this conversation to be over.
He wasn’t the only damn one. Wood was talking about his son in case he forgot. Mike didn’t want to hear about how much they were having sex. Jesus.
“We honestly forgot you were there.”
Mike scowled in Wood’s direction, which made him backpedal what he’d said, which he only managed to make sound even shittier. “No. I didn’t mean you are easily forgotten about, just when we were in that moment.”
Mike clenched his fists, his forearms tensing.
“Wood. Listen,” Rayne said more firmly, his voice taking on an edge of annoyance. “You guys don’t have to adjust your lives for me. It’s my own fault that I’m even in this situation. I’m just grateful you’re being such a good friend, Herschel, for real.” Rayne inched forward and touched Wood’s shoulder, and Mike watched those narrow fingers squeeze a fraction before he let go. “Let’s just forget about it. And please don’t say anything to Trent and upset him, okay? I don’t want him walking on eggshells in his own home.”
“But he won’t be—”
“Please,” Rayne tried again.
“I just want you to be comforta—”
“I am comfortable. I promise.”
“Are you sure? I can make Trent understand if—”
“Wood, please… Let it go. I’m fine.” Rayne sighed, sounding as irritated as Mike was.