Only it wasn’t the bike I’d been expecting to see. Sitting smugly, taunting me with the epic fuck up I’d just made, was a pink fucking bicycle that a pre-schooler would have used, and on the white basket, with the bell sitting beside it, was a giantchalkboard displaying the wordsSmile for the camerawritten upon it.
We’d been expected. We were being watched.
It took thirty seconds for me to fire every bullet I had into the air and kill the surrounding cameras, but it was too little, too late. The damage had been done.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ayda
Spending an afternoon with Deeks was always a nice way to pass the time, even if he did have an opinion on every single box with wheels that I picked out.
Drew would never allow that.
That’s a foreign piece of shit, Ayda. What are you thinking?
Then my favorite:Ayda, you get on that thing and Drew will killme,not you.
That was because I’d swung my leg over a crotch rocket—something that was just abhorrent to these men. Not to mention it also fell into the category of foreign piece of shit. It didn’t leave me many options, so I gave up and promised Deeks I would torture Drew with the very short, shortlist.
The very same list I’d started with.
We were headed back to The Hut when the day got exponentially better. Tate was voluntarily out in the muddy grass off to the side of the yard with some of the other guys, throwing a ball around. They were all covered in mud, streaks of it caking their faces as the sweat cut lines through it. As always, the boys did nothing half way. Blood and slow forming bruises were already appearing on arms, legs andfaces as they pushed one another around while Tate stood in the middle of his little huddle looking like he was in his element now that his two worlds had collided.
“Who’s winning?” I asked, slipping onto one of the benches next to Libby as Deeks headed straight for the cooler with the beer.
“Who do you think?”
“That’s our boy,” I said, accepting the beer Deeks threw at me before he dropped down next to Harry on the porch steps.
“He’s really good. That smile he’s got on right now is just—” She cut herself off, grinned and looked down at her hands, her cheeks pink as she peeked back at my brother who was pointing his players to where he needed them to be. I got that she had a big thing for the kid, but hearing that from his older lover was a little bizarre.
“You’ve never been to one of his games?” I asked, steering the direction of our conversation into safer territory.
“Well, no.”
“They still have a couple of games in the season, and if they get into state, even more. You should come with me next time.” I cracked open my beer and drained half of it before kicking my feet out and crossing my ankles.
“I think I might. I also think you should know that he was a mess last night, Ayda,” she said quietly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, her head turned in my direction and away from the men in the yard. “He sat up half the night talking about y’all’s lives since your parents died. He worries about you. He worries that he’s putting a strain on your relationship with Drew and that he’s the reason you were so miserable before… Well, before you met Drew.”
“Then he’s a bigger idiot than he looks.”
“Ayda!”
“Libby,” I huffed, draining the beer I was holding and setting it by my feet.
I watched the play Tate had set up, the snap of the ball, the thunder of the feet and the perfect execution of Tate’s throw. It was beautiful. It always was, no matter what position he was playing. I pulled my legs under me and brushed my bangs from my face before sucking in a deep breath and looking back to Libby, who was staring at me with a horrified expression.
“I’d never even thought about kids when my parents died. I was having too much fun being the selfish college student my parents always encouraged me to be. Man, they were good at loving us. They had their dreams, but they never pushed them on me. They just wanted Tate and I to do what made us happy, so I did. When they were killed, and I realized that I would be Tate’s only role model in life, I freaked the fuck out. I wasn’t worthy of that. I would never be our mom.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“I did. I’ve always loved Tate. Yes, he’s my brother, but he was always a sweet kid with a big heart and dreams that reached further than the stars. I don’t think we’ve ever been typical siblings and that’s not just the age difference. We used to go camping and we’d drive to college games or to concerts in Dallas. When I was faced with my parents’ will, it just seemed like a natural decision to make.”
“What about your dreams?”
“They didn’t matter so much anymore. His happiness made me happy; his dreams became my dreams. I never made the conscious decision to feel that way, either. When he got on the team in junior high and I saw that smile… I just knew.”
“So, you’re saying that he’s an idiot because you weren’t miserable?”
