Page 82 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
He stands before me, my lipstick smeared on his lips, his shoulders heaving, his hands flexing at
his sides, and his eyes piercing. “If that’s pity, Dylan, take pity on me, because I’m the asshole who would do it all over again without a second thought. So blame me. Hate me. But don’t you ever fucking blame yourself again.”
Grady heaves in a deep breath and then throws his hands my way as if to say he’s so angry with me and this conversation that he has nothing else to add. Then he slams out the back door, leaving me standing there staring after him with my fingertips touching my lips. Lips that are still buzzing from his kisses. My head is a bigger mess than when I walked in here, but for a very different reason.
Tears well in my eyes, and a contradictory laugh falls from my lips.
“You were standing right there looking so beautiful, and I couldn’t help myself anymore.” Talk about the unexpected. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?
Find ’em hot and leave ’em wet just got a whole new meaning.
“If I was living with your ugly ass, I’d run for the hills too.”
I lift my middle finger up for Grayson to see as he’s hanging the drywall.
“Momma said you’re not allowed to let your bird fly that way.”
Fuck.
I lower my finger and look to where Brody sits, hands under his chin, green eyes wide like I’m in trouble. “She does, does she?”
“Yep. She says that birds should only flap when you’re really angry, and I don’t think you’re really angry.”
I shake my head. Shelby’s doing a damn good job with him. “Does your mom ever let her bird fly?”
“Only when she’s driving.” He fights a smile. “She also says you shouldn’t use the word A-S-S, but I’m a big kid so don’t worry about me. I’ve heard it before.”
I laugh loudly and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Grab a beer, we need to have a man-to-man.”
He giggles without a care in the world like every little boy should and grabs his bottle of root beer, looks at it like it’s the coolest thing, and then scoots closer to me.
“Cheers,” I say as I tap my bottle of beer against the top of his root beer.
“Cheers.” His smile is beaming.
“So . . . now that we’re getting closer to getting this done,” I say, pointing to the almost completely drywalled playroom, “we need to start discussing what type of things we should fill it with. Foosball. Air hockey. PS4. Nintendo Switch. Darts.”
“Darts?” he asks. “I don’t think my momma would like me playing with those. She’s always talking about eyes getting poked out and stuff.”
“Well, that’s the best part about being here. We’re men, and men don’t worry about that stuff. Besides, we have to have our own secrets. That’s why we have the Boys’ Club here. Right, Gray?”
“Yep.” He takes a seat and taps his beer against Brody’s. “Boys’ Club rules. You can always come here and be a man. Burp. Fart.”
Another giggle sounds off. “I’m not allowed to say that word at home,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
“What word? Fart?”
He nods.
“You’re not?”
“Nope. I have to say toot. It’s so lame. I sound like a girl.”
“I’ll have to have a talk with your mom about that one, Brody. That’s where I draw the line. A man’s gotta be able to say the word ‘fart’ or he won’t get any playground cred. Especially now that you’re a kindergartener.” Grayson just looks at me and shakes his head. “What? Don’t tell me that Luke can’t say it, either.”
“He can. In fact, I’m sure when he comes home from his play date later I’ll be hearing all about farts.”
A horn honking interrupts us. “Your mom’s here.”
