There’s a direction for pubic hair?
Do you mean like if you’re driving on a road and you’ve got to decide if you turn right or left?
Archer
Maybe you need a compass. LOL. Go east after you clear out one side and then head south.
Bridger
What the fuck are we talking about. The balls are south. Stay away from those.
Easton
I’ve got to get to work. Rafe, bring your shaved pickleballs and your best game tonight. See you there.
Rafe
There’s no sympathy in this family.
Bridger
Go sit on your fancy shitter and cool off your groin, assmunch. There’s your sympathy.
“Something funny?” Wren asked as she walked into the warehouse.
“You don’t want to know.” I chuckled at the ridiculous conversation I’d just had.
She shifted on her feet and tucked her hair behind her ear, a tell that something was the matter.
I set my sander down and moved closer. “What’s up?”
“My dad called.” She cleared her throat. “He wants us to have dinner with him and Chrissy. I know he’s been an asshole, andit’s awkward—but I’m leaving soon, and I feel like I should try to make things better with him, you know?”
“I get it. He’s your father.”
“I know you aren’t a huge fan, but I don’t want to go alone.” She shrugged. “I despise Chrissy, and I will probably say something I shouldn’t.”
“Baby, I’ve got you. Of course I’ll go with you.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, thank you. I know it won’t be like Sunday dinner at your aunt and uncle’s, but I’m sure it will be entertaining in a completely different way.”
I tugged her against me. “Hey, you’re willing to participate in pickleball with the Chadwicks—I can do dinner with your father and Chrissy.”
She chuckled. “I love pickleball with the Chadwicks. It’s my new favorite activity. How will you all survive without me?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I said, trying to keep my voice light but feeling the reality of her question.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me, because there was nothing really that either of us could say.
It was the Rosewood River Country Club Pickleball Championships, but for my cousin Easton, it may as well have been the Olympic finals.
Wren and I were paired up, and then Easton and Rafe and Clark and Bridger were playing on teams together. My brother Archer was here with Melody to cheer us on. Henley, Lulu, Emilia, and Eloise were happy to sit on the sidelines with their martinis. My parents and my aunt and uncle were also here, and thankfully this time of evening offered a little reprieve from the summer heat.
“We’ve got to all be at our best if we want to defend our title. The Wilcox brothers are out for blood,” Easton said. “And don’t count out the Millennial Bastards, they’re young and hungry.”
Rafe bellowed out in laughter. “It’s the Millennial Baddies.”
Easton glared at Rafe. “Are you fucking with me at a time when we should be focused?”
