Wait.
Wait.
Was that a moan?
He peeked over his shoulder, hoping against hope that Coke was watching. Hell, he’d never seen any sign that Coke was attracted to anyone, let alone a guy.
Coke’s eyes slid away, the man hurrying around the bed of the truck.Well, well.
Coke’s phone was ringing as the man climbed in, Garth Brook’sFeverplaying. “It’s Jase. Just a sec. Hey, cowboy. How’s it going?” Coke went still, blinked. “You did what to Andy’s truck? Where? When? Just now? I talked to Andy not an hour… Good Lord, son!”
Oh, sure. Jason Scott had to call when he was… Wait. Jason. “How is he? Coke. How is he?” He poked Coke’s arm.
“He’s… Well, Andy’s gonna beat him, but he’s recovering.” Coke grinned over, then shook his head. “Huh? Dillon. We’re fixin’ to go eat. No. No, we ain’t yet. I wasn’t sure if it was cool. Want to, though. Nate? Yeah. Over the break. No, Nate’s got to go home and see the baby, but I’ll come help.”
It took everything he had in him to not poke harder, more—to growl and demand information. He waited, though.
“Yeah. Yeah, no. No, if I were you, I’d apologize and go hide behind Benji.”
Okay, well, he knew who Benji was, so Bax and Jason were at AJ’s. The last he’d heard, they were at Jason’s momma’s. He needed to know what was going on.
“Yeah. Yeah, son. I know. I know. Hang on, huh? Through the break. I promise you.”
There were a few mumbles left, then Coke nodded one more time and muttering a gruff, “You too, son,” before hanging up and starting the truck.
Dillon waited until they got away from the arena, waited until they were out into traffic, before he put a hand on Coke’s leg. “You’re gonna have to tell me sometime. I’m with you entirely too much.”
“Yeah.” That single word surprised him, more than a little. “You just ain’t easy to get alone, son. I swear to God.”
“I blame Nate. He thinks I have terrible designs on your person.” That popped out like the occasional F bomb did when his mic was on.
Coke snorted a little, face shadowed by the hat. “Little shit oughta know better. You could do way better than this old man.”
“You think?” Dillon tried not to sigh. Now was about Jason. He had to focus. “Tell me about Jason and Bax, Coke.”
“I… Well, first, son. I gotta know that you understand this is just ours. You, me, Nate, AJ. That’s it. Cain’t nobody else know.”
“I can keep a secret, Coke. You know I can, when it counts.” He wasn’t hurt, though. He knew a man had to say so.
“I know you can, else I wouldn’t even say nothin’.” Cokesighed, stopped at a red light. “Andy’s gonna be fine. His leg’s broke, but he’s okay. Jase, though… Shit.”
“He hit hard. I knew something was up, the way Bax hasn’t been talking, and you and Nate have been pow-wowing.”
“He cain’t see.” The words didn’t make sense.
The truck jerked back into motion, and Dillon shook his head, not following. “His eyes were fine, Coke. No blood, no orbital bone damage.”
The line of Coke’s shoulders was stiff, tense—his mouth drawn down into a miserable bow. “The doctor—not Doc, mind you, he don’t know nothin’ ’bout it—says it’s his brain. His eyes can see shit, but his brain don’t. I—me and Andy—we’re training him to ride again. Not for fun, but for the big tour.”
Dillon blinked, then blinked some more. Shook his head. Mulled over those words. “Riding blind. Jesus. That’s gonna take more than you and me and Nate.”
“There’s AJ, Andy.” Coke’s jaw was set, stubborn. “Jason stole Andy’s truck tonight. Drove it into a ditch, but he drove it damn near a mile, then walked home.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Blind and driving a truck. Dillon burst out laughing, the sound a little hysterical to his own ears. “He might be the only cowboy who could do it.”
“He can. We’re going to fool them all, but we’re gonna need you, when he gets back onto the big tour.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can see that.” The wheels started turning and spinning, Dillon thinking of all the ways he would have to work the arena when Jason was out there.
