Page 40 of Hash
“Yeah, that’s the part I’m trying to figure out,” I say more to myself than Cyrus, but he answers anyway.
“You’ll figure it out. There’s only so long the ladies can resist that mullet.”
“Get the fuck out of the garage before I throw another wrench at you. And this time I won’t miss.”
Cyrus laughs as he walks out of the garage while I shake my head and pull out my phone and shoot off a text.
Me: Hey, baby doll. Can we move it to Sunday?
I set my phone back down on the bench, thinking she wasn’t going to respond right away since she’s probably at work, but just as I move to clean up the rest of my tools, it vibrates.
Aisling: It’s not like I have a say in this, so sure, Hash. That’s fine.
I smirk down at my phone.
I can hear her sarcasm and see her eye roll through the screen.
My sassy little baby doll.
Me: Come hungry. Evan always makes a family dinner on Sundays.
Aisling: Evan? Anything I can bring?
Me: Jealous?
Aisling: Forget I fucking asked.
Me: Calm down. It’s Prez’s old lady. You don’t need to bring anything. Evan would be insulted if you brought something other than alcohol.
Aisling: I’ll bring some wine.
Shit.
She’s going to win Evan over before I win her over at this rate.
Me: See you then, baby doll.
It’s going to damn near kill me going a few days without seeing her or my son, but I need to back off a little. I know when to push and when to heal.
But come Sunday, I’m full-on pushing.
Chapter
Thirteen
AISLING
“Don’t be mad at me.” Is the first thing Frankie greets me with when I walk into the salon on Wednesday.
“I could never be mad at you,” I tell her as I set my stuff down in the back room, thinking she did something that I’m not actually going to be upset about. It’s a game we play whenever we know something is going to annoy us.
Frankie follows me in the back, her face uneasy.
“Wait, are you being serious?” She’s making me nervous.
“Yeah.” Frankie winces. “Kind of.”
“What happened?” I ask, giving her my undivided attention as anxiety starts to creep in.
