I don’t know why I’m so nervous about having this conversation, though. Just the thought of it has my heart racing. This is a unique situation we’re in, and I don’t want to accidentally overstep or push him into something he’s not comfortable with. I left a voicemail with his grandma earlier this week, but I haven’t heard back. In fact, I haven’t heard from her at all since Lukas moved in.
Who knows… She’s probably been busy getting settled in at her sister’s and she’ll call me back in a few days.
But I’m not holding my breath. When she said she wasn’t interested in raising another teenage boy, I kind of thought she’d still want to be kept in the loop. Maybe that’s not the case.
Placing the last plate on the bottom rack, I toss a detergent pod into the dishwasher before starting it. Lukas is in the shower, so I turn on my show while I wait for him to get out, deciding to get this over with tonight.
It’s not a big deal.
It’ll be fine.
This won’t be the last time I have to have an uncomfortable talk. This is what I signed up for when I agreed to take him in, so I better get used to it. Hell, this’ll actually be great practice for all the other big, awkward conversations to come as he gets older.
It’ll be fine. I got this.
It’s impossible to focus on anything happening on the TV, so I grab my phone, deciding to keep my mind off it a different way. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I find the contact I’m looking for and start a new text message.
Me: Meet me at the studio tomorrow night. 8pm. And I’m warning you, if you don’t show up, I will drive to your house and bring you there myself. *smirk emoji*
Sending the message, I don’t expect to get a response. Gentry is a man of few words, and he has been for as long as I’ve known him. The thought of him reading the message has me chuckling to myself, though. I can picture the look on his face so clearly in my mind—a deep scowl, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and he’ll probably even roll his eyes and scoff.
I can remember the exact moment my crush on my best friend’s dad began. Or at least, the exact summer. I was fifteen and learning how to drive for the first time. Hollis and I somehow convinced Gentry to teach me since my dad was dead and my mom worked odd hours at the hospital. Plus, the idea of her sitting in the passenger seat while I was behind the wheel was enough to give me hives. It took a little—er, a lot—of convincing, but he finally agreed, and I couldn’t believe it. Up until about five years ago, Gentry drove a nice-ass teal and white 1968 Ford F100 short bed that was once his dad’s, and driving it was adream. Such a beautiful truck.
There was only one time when Gentry took me out for a lesson without Hollis. It’s been so long, I can’t even remember why he couldn’t come. He let me drive through the winding back roads surrounding the creek. The sun was high in the sky and warm, windows were down, the radio playing old country music. It was the perfect day for a drive. We were out for close to an hour, and as he was driving us back to the ranch, I noticed things about him that I hadn’t before.
Like his hands. They wrapped around the steering wheel like they were made for it. His palms were broad, knuckles scarred with age and years of work on the ranch. And his arms.Fuck,his arms. Thick, corded veins decorated his forearms, dark against his rich, sun-kissed skin. I remember, so vividly, the way light caught the dark, coarse hairs along his arms and how the grip he had on the steering wheel made muscle shift and flex beneath the surface. His arms were the epitome of strength. It was quiet but unmistakable, and it made my mouth dry.
A well-worn Stetson sat atop his head, like it did every other day, and he had a toothpick poking out from between his lips. Dark stubble covered the lower half of his face, peppered with gray even back then. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, I’d never seen a more beautiful, rugged man. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded against my ribs in a way I’d never experienced before.
Since that day, I’ve never looked at him the same. Spending the night at Hollis’s was a special kind of torture after that, but the delicious kind. The one that leaves you feeling crazed and starving. I’ve spent many nights fantasizing about acting on the urges I have, but I know that’s all they’ll ever be.
Fantasies.
The bathroom door creaks as it opens, pulling me from the erotic images flashing through my mind. Images of me pinned to the side of Gentry’s barn by a rough, strong hand to the back of my neck and his wide, hard body pressed into mine as his cock fills my ass.
Fuck, I wish.
Glancing over, I meet Lukas’s gaze as he strolls into the living room.Time to shift gears.
“We’re almost out of body wash,” he says.
“I’ll grab some more at the store tomorrow.”
He nods slowly, dropping down on the other end of the couch. “Cool.”
“Hey, there’s somethin’ I wanna talk to you about,” I say, my heart in my throat.
“Okay...” he says slowly, cautiously. “What’s up?”
“It’s nothin’ bad,” I assure him. “I’ve been thinkin’, with everythin’ that’s happened in the last couple months, and with all the change you’ve been through, it might be a good idea to…talk to someone.”
His brows pinch together. “Talk to someone?”
“You know, like a therapist.”
“Oh, uh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I just think it might be good for you to have a safe, neutral place to talk about whatever you may be feelin’. Speakin’ from experience, I know how hard it is to make sense of everythin’ after goin’ through somethin’ like you did. I imagine the feelings and the grief is overwhelming and confusin’ sometimes.”
