Brent grunts. “I can hear it on the news already. Beloved local quarterback loses fingers in a tragic car repair.”
I chuckle helplessly and follow him into the garage. The smell of engine grease overwhelms me for a moment, but it quickly settles me like it always does. Brent hands me the necessary tool and I wordlessly get to work on the engine he just replaced a few weeks ago.
“How’s the knee?” Brent asks as he hands me a rag sometime later.
I wipe at the grease on my knuckles. “Still giving me some issues. Hurts most days, but I just push through. Not like I have games to play anymore or anything.”
“Maybe lay off on the runs?”
I smile wryly at him. “Physical therapist says it’s fine.”
Brent snorts in disbelief. “As if they know everything.”
“I’m paying this one to know everything, yes.”
Brent knocks into my shoulder. “Want a beer? Mark’s on the mainland with his sister for a few days. She’s such a pain in our asses.”
“Why?” I ask as we head toward the raised-up back porch.
Brent lets out another grunt, which is a language of its own. He disappears into the house for a moment, then returns with two beers between his fingers. We sit in the Adirondack chairs and admire the bright blue waves while sipping our beers.
“How’re the guitar lessons with Tuck?”
Tuck. That’s adorable. “Good! He’s a very patient teacher.”
“Didn’t use to be that way.” Brent rubs his bearded jaw, mouth quirked up to the side in thought. “Tucker’s been through a lot. He’s my baby.”
I know. Brent’s spoken about him briefly, the way a proud father speaks about their child. Sometimes a rift the size of the Grand Canyon opens in my chest at the idea of never being spoken about like that. Surely when I won a Super Bowl my parents ignored the entire thing, solely because I prefer dick.
“I know,” I admit quietly.
Brent glances over at me, eyes soft and kind. “You’ve been through a lot too though, kid. You know, that’s why we moved to Hope Island. Mark didn’t have an easy childhood, and when I fell in love with him, it was my mission to make his life as easy as possible. ’Cause that’s what you do when you love someone. You don’t make their life harder, you find ways to simplify it, because you love them enough to lift them up.”
“Sure.”
“You deserve that too, you know.”
“Mhmm.”
Brent purses his lips. “Too emotional for you?”
My lips lift in a shy smile. “Kind of. Tucker told me about his celiac disease. I’d cooked dinner and offered to feed him, but he seemed so frustrated when he couldn’t eat. I bought abunch of new cookware and did a shit ton of research, so my kitchen is gluten-free and he can eat what I cook.”
Brent’s stare is hard this time, a little unnerving. I fight the urge to squirm. I’m not a kid, and I don’t squirm anymore, but it’s an almost thing as Brent wordlessly stares at me under the August sun.
“He told you about the celiac?”
“Yes?”
Brent rubs his jaw again, eyes unfocused. “I don’t think his ex ever gave a shit about his celiac.”
“He sounds awful.” Because everything I’ve gathered from Tucker and River is that the ex is quite frankly a piece of utter shit. “Tucker deserves better.”
“Yes,” Brent says distantly.
We finish our beers in silence, then I leave Brent with a hug and slap to his back. I can’t stop thinking about what Brent said for the remainder of the day. Sweet, soft Tucker deserved someone kind and loving, not an asshole who didn’t take the time to learn how to make his life easier. I might not have had many relationships in my life because, really, my career was my relationship for much of it, but I figure it’s the same. It doesn’t take much to show with actions how much you love someone. Pretty simple actually.
After my Thursdayafternoon physical therapy session, I head to downtown Hope Beach to track Marcia down. I’m convinced there’s more I can do for the lantern festival.
