Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Mom,” Beau called sternly, but his mom and I were on a whole different wavelength.
“I’m working on it,” I said, making sure Beau caught every word. “He’s stubborn, with walls of reinforced concrete around him, but I’ve got my trusty wrecking ball.”
“Dash,” Beau warned.
“Hush, Beau,” she said, scolding her son. She looped her arm through mine as she started us up the walkway to the house. “Give him time.” Without waiting on us, Beau had gone to Scott, who was at the top step, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“I win,” he teased, genuinely happy. I didn’t know how he won, but those words were enough to dig a path straight under Beau’s skin.
“You’re way off base,” Beau scoffed, executing a heavy footed climb up the steps. The slump in his shoulders screamed defeat. I found it oddly endearing because I felt like I was involved. The truck keys exchanged hands.
“No, I’m not. It might be the most victorious win of all time. You’re finished. No other wins can ever beat this win.” Scott chuckled happily. Beau clearly had no use for anything more Scott had to say as he flipped around, trotted back down the steps, and side-swiped me and his mom in the direction of the truck’s bed. “He didn’t win.”
Since I didn’t have to worry about him leaving—Scott had the truck keys—I continued along with his mom. When close enough to Scott, I extended my hand. “I’m Dash.”
“I’m Scott.” The sure clasp and direct stare eased any lingering nerves.
“I owe you. I’m not sure he would have come to Dallas if you hadn’t intervened.”
“That’s why I win,” Scott called loudly to Beau. I probably shouldn’t have chuckled. His mother absolutely shouldn’t have laughed. She knew all of the obstacles Beau had faced, but evidently, she and I had our flaws.
Beau ignored us as he gathered our belongings.
“I was afraid I pushed too hard after mama-Brooks was worried. Seems all went well enough,” Scott said.
If only Scott knew the truth. The intensity of the mock trial had nothing on dealing with Beau Brooks. Beau stalked past like a pack mule, loaded down with primarily my luggage. “Why do we have to talk about this outside? Or at all. Just go inside,” he huffed.
I’d give him a break for now, but I wanted to know everything. Much like all those years ago, I was drawn to the familiarity and love within this family. Scott knew how to handle Beau, so I now deemed him my mentor. When Beau held the door open, still holding all the luggage, I went inside, happy to be there.
We opted for dinner at a local Birmingham spot: Ellen’s. Named the best burger joint by the local Birmingham newspaper, three years running. We chose to sit on the covered porch, the nearby standing heaters mitigated the slight chill in the air.
I was far past the idea of everyone automatically knowing I was gay because Dash was there with me. My current assessment of the evening landed somewhere between relaxing and easygoing. The chatter between the four of us flowed effortlessly. Dash was the perfect gentleman, just as I’d always known him to be.
He sat next to me in the booth, leaving just enough space between us that I suspected we looked like friends. His half-eaten burger, no onion, no cheese with French fries on the side, all served in a red plastic basket, hadn’t budged from the place the waitress had served it.
Manners were natural for him. The expanded paper napkin in his lap looked nothing like mine, which was crumpled on top of my basket I’d shoved to the center of the table. I’d gone at my food like I was on a survival mission and hadn’t eaten in a week. It took about a minute for me to figure out Dash was done before I finished his burger and ate the remaining French fries out of his basket.
A jukebox serenaded us with some older country tunes. The kind that made you cry if you listened too closely. Scott had made such progress on the house that we’d had free time this evening.
We hit up the game place next door before dinner. We played Putt-Putt, rode the go-karts, hit some balls in the batting cages, and spent way too much money in the arcades. I was admittedly rusty at anything more than playing football but still managed to beat Scott in two of the four competitions. The loss that hurt the most was Ninja Assault. He beat me soundly, officially becoming my former best friend.
My cheeks were sore from all the grinning I’d done tonight. The rivalry between Scott and me came back with a driving force. My old man barely had one foot in the grave, but man, the oppression he’d caused was lifting at lightning speed.