Hell, he was starting to think that last hit by Jackhammer had loosened something in his skull. He grinned when Dillon took his hand, swinging it a bit, but not enough to make his shoulder hurt. The bassets followed them, yawning, stopping to pee before they made it inside.
He stripped down to his BVDs, then waited for Dillon to do the same before tugging him in for a hard hug.
Dillon wrapped around him, warm and easy, lips on his upper arm. “Hey.”
“Hey, cowboy.”
They stood there and held each other for a second, then they headed to bed, sliding under the blankets. His bones ached and he knew that there was a cold front on the way.
No question.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Hey, Dillweed, come help me feed all the dogs,” Nate called to Dillon.
The morning had dawned cold as a witch’s tit, and Coke was moving slow, but Dillon loved this weather, so he was up and hunting something to do.
“Sure, man.”
There were dozens of them—bassets and border collies, Tag’s bloodhound, three Great Pyrenees, and this gigantic mastiff that looked like she could eat someone in one bite. She was a slobbery lover.
Bassets came running at the sound of the kibbles hitting the bowls, and Dillon chuckled.
“Silly beasts.” Nate shook his head, but Jerome got a longer petting than any of the rest. They were soulmates, his boy basset and Nattie.
“You should see them hunting nutria,” Dillon said.
“Y’all have been down to Beau’s, huh?”
“A short stop, yeah.” He loved Beau’s camp. It screamed Cajun.
Nate nodded, poured out all the kibbles, then stopped, leaned against the post on the big porch. “What was all that about, man? Last night?”
“What?” Dillon frowned, trying to remember making a scene or something.
“All the stuff poking Hoss. He don’t talk about his past, Dillweed. You know that.”
“But why not? I mean, he’s not an ax murderer.” Dillon didn’t get it.
“It bothers him. Some guys have doors they done shut, locked and walked away from. Coke’s like that. He built a life. Leave the bones alone.”
Dillon stared at Nate. “So, wait, you know? Like you know what’s so weird?”
“What do you mean? Know what? That he don’t talk about it, that he don’t celebrate his birthday? Sure, I know. I mean, we’ve been friends damn near since the beginning.”
“Yeah, but when was the beginning?”
“Dillweed, just drop it. Let it go. What’s it going to help, pushing buttons?”
“I want to understand him, Nate. I need to. I love him.” People who loved each other shared everything, good and bad.
“Don’t you understand him? He’s the best of all of us. He was lost, now he’s found. The good Lord made him a new man. That ought to be enough.”
“But—” Dillon cut himself off, because Tag had said something so similar it made him pause. “Okay.”
“Good.” Nate grabbed him, gave him a noogie. “You make him happy, man. More than I’ve ever seen. That’s a big deal.”
“It is.” It was a huge deal to Dillon.
