“Oh, honey. Falling out? That’s nothing. This was a holocaust. Don’t ever,everbring it up to him. That’s a hurt that can’t be fixed.”
Dillon sat back in his chair, eyebrows flying up to his hairline. “Yeah? What happened?”
“He had a twin that wasn’t the best guy ever, I guess. I’m not sure what he did that was so wrong, but I know that he killed himself when they were eighteen and the parents said it was Coke’s fault. They turned him out without so much as a dollar, just the clothes he had.” She grinned, the expression more bittersweet than not. “I was so worried that he was a drifter, but Danny said no. No, this was a good boy who was going to become a better man.”
“Oh.” Dillon ached for Coke then, so young and without prospects. “That sucks. God, no wonder he hates to think about it.”
“Yeah. He did it, though. He did all the things he had to, gave his old life away and become the man we all know. I’m proud of him.”
“I wish he would open up some.” Dillon sighed. “I admit it—I’m nosy. Touchy feely, too.”
“I think that part of him is gone. I think it was so bad that he let it die.”
Dillon couldn’t even imagine that, but that wasn’t his experience. How could he judge? “Thanks, Brenda. I really appreciate the insight.”
“No worries, honey. He’s a good guy. He always has been.” Brenda reached out and patted his hand.
“He is. He rocks.” Dillon’s cheeks flushed, because Brenda had to know he and Coke were together, but he’d never been so brazen about it with someone not in the same, uh, sexual boat as him.
Brenda hooted, patted his hand. “You know, I think I’m going to find my husband and see where he’s hiding.”
“Thanks. Oh, here, I’ll get you that coffee to go.” He poured two cups, and he thought he remembered how she and Jack both took it.
She gave him a curious look, then took the cups. “Thanks, honey. Get some rest.”
“I think I will.” Dillon waved at her when she left him, and he leaned on the counter, chewing his lower lip. Poor Coke. That was ridiculous. Seriously. To just abandon baby Coke. Then blaming him for his brother’s death? Even with Coke as a teenager and not fully grown, Dillon refused to believe Coke could be responsible for anything like that.
He found the bassets curled up on the couch out in the family room, Benji snoring away with them. That was an amazing place to nap, and it was a sectional. Plenty of room for a skinny clown.
He eased himself down, put his head on Pansy’s belly. Naptime.
He needed to enjoy the quiet. God knew around here it wouldn’t last.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They had built a huge New Year’s Eve bonfire in the back of the house and everyone was waiting.
Missy and AJ’s babies were supposed to be here any time and everyone was holding their breath, praying they’d be here before midnight.
Coke was hurtin’ some, but he wasn’t gonna say. He just poured a tiny shot of Jack into his coffee to loosen things up and keep him warm, choosing that over beer.
The kids were hyped up, running around and hooting and hollering. Everyone was partying, the younger ones dancing to the radio. Nate and Tracy, well, he thought maybe they’d snuck off to the barn. Coke couldn’t blame them. He was thinking that direction himself. With Dillon.
He felt about a million years old, all of the sudden, the weight of the old year huge enough to drag him under. So much had happened. So much always happened.
“You’re deep in it, Gramps,” Andy Baxter said, clapping him gently on the back.
“I’m tired, Bax.” And that was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t young anymore. He found it harder and harder to bounce back.
“I hear you.” Bax chuckled, the sound like ground glass.
“Yeah. Yeah, I bet. We’re going to do it, though. We’re going to do this.”
“Yessir. Mini’s set on it now, and he needs something to believe in.” Bax looked right fierce.
“He has you.”
“He does, and I would take on the whole damned world for him, but I can’t fight what’s inside him.” Bax shrugged, cheeks a dull red. “Anyway, you think them babies will come?”
