“Can’t wait for me to leave, huh?”
“You’re an annoying fuck.”
He bats his lashes. “I know. I’m so great.”
“I repeat, you’re an annoying fuck.”
“I love you, and you love me. We have a bromance. Not sure if bromance is still a thing, but I can make a thing a thing again, am I right? I was reading this article about men’s friendships, and we need nicknames—besides you calling meassholeandsquatter. I’m gonna call you Big T. What do you wanna call me? Come on—tell me whatcha got ...” He rubs his hands together and grins, but there’s a serious glint in his eyes.
“Jay Bird because you like to walk around naked after a shower. Put a towel around your junk. This isn’t the locker room.”
He claps. “All right. Jay Bird and Big T. I like it. We should hug more. It’s good for bonding. It might help our game. Cohesive. We move as one, ya know? Yin and yang, peas and carrots. I-throw-the-ball-and-you-sense-it kind of thing? Telepathy football.”
I plop down on a stool. “Dude ...”
“Come on—give me some love, Big T ...” He hugs me from the back, and I shove him off as I chuckle.
“Jesus, find a girlfriend.”
He pouts. “I guess it’s not a good idea to tell you that I ordered us matching man bracelets, tungsten and black leather. Very cool and badass. I know you wear one already, so I figured you liked them.”
“No.” I only wear the cuff to hide the scars on my wrist.
“Maybe Deacon will want one.” He sniffs as he wipes a pretend tear.
I throw my hands up and laugh. “Fucking hell. Fine.”
He gives me a blinding grin and holds his fist out for me to bump.
Cherry, my toy papillon, comes flying around the corner, her big brown ears waving in the air. I sweep her up in my arms and rub our noses together. “Baby girl, my sweet Cherry, whatcha doing, hmm? Whatcha doing? Don’t let the ugly man give you cheese puffs, never, ever, ever.” I arch a brow at him. “For real. Don’t make my dog a food junkie. It’s not good for her belly.”
“I guess this means no more Oreos—”
“What the fuck. She can’t—!”
“Kidding, Big T. God as my witness, I swear.”
My ire settles as I cuddle her in the crook of my arm while Jasper heads to my kitchen and pulls a beer out of the fridge. “Beer?”
I nod. “Hell yeah.”
“Ah, guess the meet-cute with your princess didn’t pan out?”
I sit down on one of the leather loungers in the den with Cherry. “I’m working on it. Pretty sure her roommate is Snow White. Cece. She has another roommate, too, a guy. His name is—shit, I can’t remember.”
“I knew Francesca looked familiar.” He hands me my bottle, then plops down in the chair next to me. “So let’s focus on football. It was a tough loss. You wanna talk about the game?”
My gut clenches. “Not right now.”
His fingers drum the arm of his chair as he shoots me a glance. “You know, if you, um, want to talk anything else, you know, besides football, I’m here. It’s what bros do: help shoulder the burden and all that shit.”
I used to talk to Ronan. But ...
“Nah, I’m good. Next week we’ll play better, yeah?”
He nods and clicks on a game. I lean back and sip on my beer, my head running in circles. I think about Mom in a manic phase, and it stings that those are the moments when she usually needs me the most, but she hasn’t called.
The worst thing is part of me still wants to be her “sunshine,” to have her approval. I tap my fingers on my leg. I could hop in my car and be at Greenwood in half an hour. Just to check in. I exhale. No. It’s late. She doesn’t want me there. It’s cool. Fine. Whatever.