I snort because I remember when Raff bought the first investment property and he asked me about the numbers. Together we set up a corporation and got all of his accounting set up so when he got his first tenant everything could run seamlessly. And who knew having rentals would lead him to meet his woman and build a life he loves. “Smart man that books guy you got.”
Silence settles a minute, the comfortable kind. The shop hums around us, distant radio, a fan rattling, the faint clink of Tom working in the big shop across the lot. Honey’s voice carries once and a while, laughing at something I don’t catch.
I wipe my hands on a rag and lean back, stretching my shoulders. The ache there is familiar. Earned. Raff’s still watching me.
“What?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing.”
“The one where you pretend you’re fine,” he says. “And then you disappear for a while. And then you come back quieter. Each time away gets a little darker version of you upon return, brother.”
I stare at the Thunderbird’s engine like it might offer me an excuse. “I need a couple weeks on the road,” I state finally admitting to myself I need the chance to miss the routine I have here.
Raff doesn’t react the way most men do. No lecture. No guilt. Just a slow nod like he’s been expecting it.
“Yeah,” he says. “I figured.”
I glance at him. “You figured?”
“You don’t get restless for no reason,” he begins. “You’re a measured bastard. When you start itching, it means something’s chewing on you.”
I tighten my jaw. “It’s just the road.”
Raff’s eyes sharpen, but he doesn’t call me out. Not directly. “The road’s always been your excuse,” he challenges instead. “But it ain’t always the reason.”
I go still. The shop feels too warm all of a sudden.
I reach for another tool I don’t need, just to keep my hands moving. “I’m thinking west. Maybe cut through Tennessee, swing through Arkansas, and go until the sun tells me to turn around and head home. Get lost for a bit.”
Raff pushes off the tool chest. “How long is ‘a bit’?”
“A couple weeks.”
He lets out a slow breath through his nose. “You want company.”
It’s not a question.
I don’t answer immediately. The truth is yes, I do. Not because I can’t ride alone. I can. I’ve done it more times than I can count. But because there’s a kind of quiet you only get when you’ve got someone riding with you who doesn’t demand words.
Raff and I used to do it all the time before responsibilities stacked up like bricks.
Long runs. No destination. Just motion.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I want company.”
Raff’s smile is quick, soft. Then it fades. “I can’t leave with you, brother,” he states the disappointment in his voice not hidden.
I already know. Still, it lands like weight. “Josie.” I remark. “I get it Raff. I’m happy for you, brother. Really. Just miss the good ole’ days sometimes. Country Boy has Sara and Royal, you have Josie, Justice, and the new baby. But I would be a liar if I didn’t say yes I want company.”
“Josie,” he confirms. “She’s due soon. Any day now. I’m not missing that.”
The way he says it, firm and certain, makes something twist in my chest. Not resentment. Not anger.
Respect.
And maybe something darker under it.
