Coke was napping.
It was a good look for him, head back, sunglasses on, a quirky smile on his face… When he wasn’t snoring.
Dillon had slathered on the sunscreen and snoozed with Coke for a while, but now he was ready and rarin’ to go, his usual nervous energy asserting itself. He needed to bounce. He got up on the diving board and stretched tall, reaching for the sky. He bounced a little on his toes, feeling the sun beat down on his naked, and now almost brown, thank you, body.
He thought he heard something—something dinging or ringing or something—but it stopped and Coke never twitched, so he figured it must not be anything. It didn’t matter anyway. This place was like an oasis. Quiet, simple, easy.
He bounced a little more, the diving board balanced so damned well that he could probably use it like a trampoline. Huh. Maybe he should try it.
Sproing.
Sproing.
Sproing.
Oh, God, this was fun.
“Jesus Christ, Jase! Dillon’s here, and he’s naked!”
The shout made Dillon miss his footing on the board, and he flew out over the pool, arms and legs flailing. He landed in a spectacular belly flop that might just have ruined him for life. Poor Coke. He’d never get fucked again.
“God and Greyhound, what are y’all doing here without calling? You prob’ly killed the beautiful son of a bitch, and I just got him tanned up pretty, and he’s gonna take me to see snow come Thanksgiving!” Coke was bellaring as Dillon popped out of the water.
Oh. Oh, Jesus. He doubled over in the water, almost drowning himself as he howled, holding his belly. He barely managed to keep afloat by kicking his feet.
Andy Baxter was leading Jason over to a chair and that… Well, that stopped his laughter as if someone’d slapped a lid on it.
Blind.
Jase was really, really blind.
Somehow it had felt like a sick, stupid joke—like it couldn’t possibly be the truth, even though he knew Coke, knew the man didn’t lie.
Dillon was suddenly glad that he had to swim to the edge of the pool and grab his towel, which gave him time to think about what to say, what to do. He studied Andy and Jason from under his lashes for a moment. Bax seemed tired. A little drawn, but so much better than when he’d broken his leg. Jason looked…skinnier. A lot more angular. Still, he was grinning a little, hands dangling between his spread knees, just like when he sat on the fence at the events.
Clearing his throat, Dillon chuckled. “Well, hey, you two. Looks like you made it just in time for the How Not To Dive class.”
Coke laughed, and Jason rubbed the back of his neck, going sheepish as hell. “Looks like. You know, there’s benefits to this whole not-seeing thing. Only problem is, I’ll have nightmares featuring you flopping.”
“Yeah? I would say that’s more of an erotic dream.” Dillon winked at Bax, who went a little green around the gills.
Coke chuckled, grabbed four beers out of the mini fridge. “So, what’s up? I thought you was going to your momma’s”
“AJ.” Jason seemed like his eyes were following Coke from under the brim of the straw hat. It was fucking creepy, because the man didn’t see the beer held in front of him. Hell, he didn’t move until Coke put the cold one against the bare arm showing through the T-shirt. “He’s on Missy like a tomcat.”
Andy nodded and took his beer from Coke, the John Deere cap bobbing. “Jack took Jase’s momma and Granny Peters to Colorado on vacation. She was so tickled…”
“We couldn’t tell her, you know? She’d have stayed home. Jack was getting hotels and everything.” Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees, bottle dangling between his fingers. “We had to come out, Gramps. We did. Benji’s been sleeping with us for a week.”
“Ah. Well, we promise not to crawl in bed with you.” Jesus, what was his problem? Nervousness, no doubt. Making sure his towel was secure, Dillon walked over and shook Bax’s hand, then grabbed Jason’s arm and squeezed.
“Good to see you up and about, man. Last time I saw you, I was fucking scared to death.”
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me. Coke says you know, huh? You’re gonna help?”
He stopped, stared a second.
A beard.
