Page 101

And if it didn’t?

I had no idea what I’d do.

CHAPTER 34

REG

“How’s your dad?”

“The same. Thanks for fixing this.” I set the sander on the workbench in my garage. “He’ll be by tomorrow to…sand stuff.”

Cooper smiled. “Need more wood?”

I shook my head. “We’re set for now. C’mon. I’ll get you a beer. How was the game?”

“It was a beatdown,” he groused, following me into the house. Coop peered through the kitchen window at our kids and Tate in the yard. “I can’t figure out how we’re so good at football and so bad at hockey. You’d think Rhys and Chase would have given up by now, but they’re already talking about summer league and how they’re going to fit hockey in with being camp counselors…not to mention varsity football training.”

“Summer,” I huffed. “Geez, it’s only May.”

Only May.

Only two weeks since Waylon had gone home.

I felt the weight of his absence like an anchor around my neck, making it difficult to move…or breathe.

Some days I thought it was getting easier, but then something would remind me of him—like summertime, sidewalk chalk, lakeside hiking trails, milkshakes, the collection of acorns he’d left on my nightstand.

Cooper lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Rhys says that he and Gretch have taken over sanding duty with your dad.”

I smiled wanly. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“Out of curiosity…does your dad ever talk about Waylon? They spent a decent amount of time together.”

The truth was, Dad mentioned Waylon every single time I saw him. Where’s your man? Where’s your boyfriend? Where’s the fella with the tattoos? Where’s the mountain man?

I popped the top off my bottle and set it on the island. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

Cooper huffed in amusement. “I didn’t tell you, but I held my breath for a second when you kissed Waylon on the field at the opening day flag football game…in front of your father. Damn! There’s a sixteen-year-old kid in me who still shits bricks if I think about getting caught humping in Aunt Rhona and Uncle Harry’s basement. And now your dad is cheering you while you smooch your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, and my dad was not cheering,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Bullshit to both.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Nah, it’s Saturday. I’ve done my carpooling for the weekend, and my husband went for a run, so I’m free to hang out with my old buddy for a bit. In fact, you might even say it’s my duty to cheer you up.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need cheering up. I’m fine.”

“Again…I call bullshit.”

I gave Coop my best death glare—the one that made anyone who’d thought about breaking the law shiver in their boots.

Coop just rolled his eyes and waited me out, sipping his beer. His once-dark hair was threaded with gray like mine. It was strange to think we’d been friends for thirty-five years and had been through…life together.

I could tell him anything.

“Look, it was a good thing,” I admitted. “But it’s over. And yeah…it sucks. It’s also extremely maddening that the one person I was afraid would find out I was bi all those years ago is suddenly a queer ally who can’t walk into my house without asking where Waylon is. Of all the things Dad’s forgotten, Waylon isn’t one of them. The irony is almost poetic.”