“I’m game to talk about feelings, but I’m gonna need hard liquor if you’re gonna cry,” Eli said.
“You’re being a dick.” Jase pointed the end of a rose at him.
“It’s my gift.” Eli flashed a shit-eating smile. “Pull up a chair and tell me what’s got the stick shoved up your ass.”
“When’s the last time he was this upset he got laid?” Dean kicked back in his stool, lounging against the wall.
“I can’t recall a time he got some and wasn’t happy about it,” Eli replied. “Not that I know every time he gets a piece.”
“She’s special, okay, assholes?” Jase spit out the words before he had a moment to think it through. “She’s special, and when I fuck it up, she’s going to get hurt.”
“Shit. We’re doing this again.” Eli scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s like I’m over here holding up the singles area all by myself.”
“Your turn’s comin’, too,” Brek replied.
Eli glared his way.
“You know? Let’s not talk anymore.” Jase did his best to ignore them.
The silence was unbearable.
“The thing is, I shouldn’t want this with her.”
The guys stayed silent.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Jase asked.
“Are we supposed to?” Eli asked, entirely too innocently.
“Fucker.” Jase gave him a one-finger salute.
Eli leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You know what I miss? I’ll tell you. I miss when we used to talk about Brek’s bike, and you going on and on about shit that blows up, and what mountain I’m gonna climb next, and whatever the hell Dean does for work. Don’t get me wrong, I dig a good lay just as much as the next guy. But ever since you all got lady issues, you’re no fun.”
“You’re shit with advice.” Brek shook his head.
“Then, Dean, you’re up,” Eli replied.
“Heather is special.” Dean gave Jase a pointed look. “And I think it’s in everyone’s best interest that you do not, in fact, fuck it up.”
“She’s not Angela,” Brek said, quiet, eyes focused on his hands folded on top of the table.
No shit. Heather wasn’t his ex-wife. He refused to do a comparison. The shit of it was, he and Angela had left things on a decent note. Despite everything. Hell, they’d even shared a divorce attorney. She’d moved on and she’d hoped he would, too. “Angela has nothing to do with anything.”
“Just everything,” Eli muttered.
Jase wanted to spend time with Heather. He wanted to get to know her. He never wanted to get to know a woman—not like he was craving her. His heart had been broken once and everyone said it’d heal.
They’d lied.
He used duct tape, super glue, and a heap of Frankenstein staples to hold the thing together. His resolve to keep it tucked away hardened. He couldn’t let the past repeat itself. He wouldn’t survive that again.
And the way she’d looked that morning?
Another staple had popped in his heart at the disappointment in her eyes.
“I think what these idiots are trying to say is that Heather may seem like the kind of woman who doesn’t get hurt. That things don’t bother her. But she’s been through a pretty rough patch.” Dean was all business. “You’ve been through a rough patch, too. Maybe the two of you can help each other past it. If that means you end up together, it makes Thanksgiving easier. But if you don’t, at least maybe you’ll learn something from one another.”
The cowbell on the front door clanked and something shifted in the air, then he heard her voice and it effectively pressed the pause button on his heartbeat. Heather.
