“We work anywhere in the city and the Eastside,” Dylan says, interrupting my train of thought. “But I don’t know for sure if we can even help you since we still subcontract out some of the more complex work. But if we can’t handle it, I can give you some names. If I ask, I think a couple of these guys will make time for you even if they’re busy.”
“Holy shit, that would be amazing!” I exclaim, my voice sounding positively gleeful to my own ears. “Is this weekend too soon for you to drop by? I have the next couple of days off, and I was going to end up researching this anyway.”
He looks at me like he’s weighing his options. “I’m not busy. I can come by and take a look. If you give me the address, I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Holy fucking hell.I almost can’t believe my luck. Is it possible that fate may have placed this too-good-to-be-true guy in my path? He’s crazy attractive, seems supersmart, and to top it off, he might be able to help me out with my money-pit renovation project?Well, hallelujah. Maybe after almost forty years, my luck has turned.
Chapter 6
DYLAN
I’vesurprisedmyself.Inever offer to help someone I barely know out of the blue like that. I’m a serious creature of habit; I don’t do spontaneous, but for some unknown reason, Reed Morrow inspires me to do things differently.
We exchange numbers, and he follows up with a text message with his address.
After we say goodbye, I’m finally calm enough to get behind the wheel of my truck without being a menace to society. After taking a couple of minutes to message the crews I have out working, I head home. Thankfully, there was nothing major on my schedule for today, just a couple of site visits, but our guys are great, so I don’t feel like I need to micromanage them.
I know myself well enough to understand I need to keep to some kind of routine though. When I get home, I’ll have to sort out a way to get something productive done as a signal to my brain that I’ve worked today
A sigh of relief escapes me when my property comes into view. Everyone loves their home—or at least I hope they do—but when everything in the outside world feels like chaos and madness, this place is the calm in my storm. My trees, my tiny barn, all my animals, the house I love, all of them act like a shield, warding off all the uncertainty and frustration of the outside world. As soon as I park, my two rescued paint horses, Goose and Maverick, amble over to the fence for a hello and some nose scratches. The tension of the morning begins to wash away as I press my forehead to Goose’s. “This has been a day, buddy, and it’s not even noon yet,” I whisper to him. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but I can appreciate that. People talk too much, which is one of the many reasons I prefer the company of my horses, dogs, and cats.
After reluctantly pulling away from such a friendly greeting, I head into the house, where Alexis, my black Lab, tackles me, nearly knocking me down. She’s followed closely by David, my yellow Lab, and Kramer, and my little white mutt, who firmly believes he can keep up with the big dogs in every way. (He can’t.)
I love my brother and sister, love my whole family, but at the end of the day, I live with my best friends, and it’s these guys who keep me from ever feeling truly alone.
My body is craving a nap, and sliding between my favorite buttery-soft sheets and closing my eyes sounds like heaven right now, but that won’t help me get back into a comfortable routine, so instead, my option is the dreaded admin work. Between estimates, fielding calls from potential clients, and the mountains of paperwork that come with our apprenticeship program for workers with special needs, there’s never enough time in the day to get through it all, even though Mason helps a lot. Hiring an office manager is another thing on my to-do list, but it’s not happening today.
After spending a few hours on paperwork, I lean back in my chair, my back cracking as I stretch. The sun is low in the sky, but at this time of year, that means it’s probably somewhere around 4:00 p.m. I’m just about to get up to figure something out the dinner situation when I get a text from my brother.
Mason: Hey dude, you around?
Dylan: I’m here.
Mason: Jax and I were wondering if we can drop by with takeout later? If you’re not up for company, we’ll drop it off and split right away. It was such a weird day, thought you might not feel like cooking.
My family really is great.
Dylan: That sounds good. You guys can stay and eat here.
Mason: Cool. Pizza work for you?
Dylan: Yes
Mason: Right. We’ll be there in an hour or so.
I’m fortunate that I was diagnosed with autism so young, and fortunate too that Grace and Mason are younger than me. They grew up knowing that my brain works a little differently from theirs; it wasn’t something they had to adapt to. They understand how much additional energy it takes for me to keep myself on an even emotional footing, and it’s never been an issue. Acceptance and making space for anyone, regardless of their ability level, is second nature to everyone in my family, which is something I’m so proud of and so very grateful for.
An hour later, there’s quick rap on the door before Mason calls out, “Honey… we’re hoooome!” in a singsong voice. My dogs all jump to attention as soon as the sound of dog nails clicking on the hardwood floor reaches us, and they race down the hall to greet their “cousins.” Sure enough, the pack, now five dogs strong instead of the usual three, gallops around the corner into the living room at a hundred miles an hour. Harry and Sally are the two beautiful Labs Mason and Jax adopted when they moved in together, and there’s nothing in the world my own dogs love more than when Harry and Sally come over to play. Getting these five crazies together is both fun and overwhelming, but I love it.
Dusk has turned to dark, so I get the dogs into their LED collars and let them all loose out the back door. Mason, Jax, and I stand on the back deck to watch them, laughing as the five of them race around, chasing each other and wrestling. Little Kramer holds his own with the big dogs for a couple of minutes, but before long, he falls back, and the flashing blue light of his collar drifts deeper into the darkened forest, trailing a circle around the perimeter of the property, doing his nightly “sniff-ari.”
“Can I get you guys like a beer?” I ask as we step back inside. The dogs will stay out for a while longer, and they’ll all be nicely worn out and ready for a good night’s sleep when they’re done playing.
“Sure,” Mason says, and Jax gives me a thumbs-up.
With a beer for each of them and a Sprite for myself, we grab plates and the pizza and head into the living room, where we can still see the dogs’ lighted collars outside.
“So,” Mason starts, after swallowing a huge bite of pepperoni pizza, “we’re all uncles now, huh? Weird feeling, right?” He laughs and shakes his head, like he can’t really believe one of us has a kid.