“Bullshit. Do you have any idea how much my boys look up to you? You’ve accomplished more starting with less than anyone I know. Less support, less understanding. You’ve built yourself when no one ever even mentioned there were building blocks.” More softly, she said, “Just knowing you’re there and have my back is helping me get through this. Mom too.”
“Reckon I should talk to her?”
“She’s still in denial. The doctor prescribed sedatives for her. I’d wait a few days.”
“I want her to know I love her. Daddy too. I’m here for them.” Or as much as they’d let him be.
“She knows, Rich. She knows. But no mother should ever have to lose a kid. She’s taking it hard, as she did when we got word about you.”
Ouch. More deserved guilt. “Will you let me know if she needs anything? If you need anything?”
“You gave us Daddy, that’s enough.”
“Still, I wish I was there.” If Bo and Walter let him he’d haul ass right now.
“Me too, Rich. I’m sure there’s things I’m not allowed to know yet, but you’ll get the whole story, won’t you?”
“I’ll do my damnedest.”
“And your damnedest beats anyone else’s. I love you, brother. I’m so glad I can say that out loud, and not in a text or e-mail.”
“I love you too.”
“Goodnight. Get some rest.”
Lucky gazed up at the stars and breathed in the night air. Soon summer would bring heat and mosquitos. And hopefully, a day for reckoning for whoever supplied Bristol with carfentanil.
He couldn’t be with his parents right now, or the rest of his family, but the family he’d chosen for himself lay asleep inside the house.
Too late to be a better son or brother. Not too late to be a good partner.
***
“What are you doing?” Did Bo realize how adorable he looked, partially covered by a sheet and rubbing sleep from his eyes?
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Lucky sat the tray on the nightstand. He’d gotten the toast a bit dark, but blackberry jam hid the worst of the burn.
“You made me breakfast?”
“Yep.” Even if he’d gotten tea leaves all over the kitchen floor trying to shove them into one of those little tea ball thingies. Breakfast didn’t require grilling outside and amounted to pretty much all Lucky’d learned to cook indoors.
“You didn’t have to. You should be lying in bed with me taking care of you. How’re you feeling?” Bo ran his fingers lightly up Lucky’s T-shirt, over the spot where he’d been cut open.
Bo had The Dimple, Lucky had The Scar. “All right, I reckon. Now hush and eat, ‘fore it gets cold.”
Bo eyed the tray and then Lucky. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why’re you trying to butter me up?”
Oh! What a great idea. Butter. Or cooking oil. He’d soak Bo until his skin gleamed…
“Lucky? Your mind plunged into the gutter, didn’t it?”
Ever since he’d healed enough to consider sex, Lucky’s mind stayed in the gutter. “But butter might be fun.”
“Yeah, and hell to wash out of the sheets. So, if you don’t have ulterior motives, I guess it’s okay to eat this.” Bo propped his back against the headboard, placed the tray on his knees, and took a bite of scrambled eggs. “Oh, this is good. Where’s yours?”
