Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Then there’s Dixon. He’s always loved working on cars, and he, too, made that dream a career. Out of the four of us, I was the only one who deviated from the plan. That causes an ache in my chest, because no matter the phone calls and the text messages over the years, I’m not a part of their lives. It’s going to be hard to get that connection back—if we even can. That’s a reality that I’ll have to learn to live with if that’s the case.
Grabbing my phone out of the cupholder and my keys out of the ignition, I climb out of my truck and make my way inside. I’m not even to the door yet, and the slow twang of a country song greets me. Walking inside, I scan my surroundings, something I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing after my years as a Marine. I’m also taking it all in, witnessing for the first time in person, my best friend’s dream coming true before my eyes.
The place is packed, and the dance floor is full of couples, swaying to the beat of Koe Wetzel over the sound system. After pushing my way through the crowd, I settle at the bar and order a beer. I’m driving, so this will be it for me tonight. I might as well get it over with and out of the way.
“Thanks.” I nod to the bartender, passing him some cash and waving him off when he asks if I need change. The bottle is barely to my lips when someone steps up beside me.
“Am I seeing things?” Dixon asks.
I don’t bother with my first drink. Instead, I place the bottle on the bar and hug one of my best friends. Fuck, it’s been too damn long. “Hey, Dix,” I say, slapping him on the back, before pulling out of the hug.
“How’s your mom?”
I nod. “She’s hanging in there. She’s a fighter.”
“I know she is. The guys and I wanted to come see you, but we knew you had a lot on your plate.”
“You’re always welcome,” I tell him.
“Yeah, as long as it’s on your turf, or your mom’s turf.” He chuckles.
“Venturing out into town wasn’t something I was interested in. You know that,” I say, this time taking a long pull of my beer.
“I know, but you’re home for good now, right?” His voice is hesitant, as if he’s always afraid to hear my answer.
“Yeah, Dix. I’m home for good,” I tell him.
“So, no more hiding from her?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. I never hid from my friends why I wanted to avoid town on my visits home.
“We’ve got a table. Why don’t you join us?” he offers.
“Who’s we?”
“Me, Mack, and Bo. He’s supervising from our table.” He laughs.
“I don’t want to impose.”
Dixon rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Cope? Grab your beer.” He signals the bartender and holds up two fingers, then points to their table. I guess one of them isn’t drinking. My guess is Bowen, since this is his place.
“Look who I found,” Dixon says as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat.
“No shit?” Macklin stands and pulls me into a hug, then Bowen does the same, before I settle next to Macklin, where Bowen and Dixon sit across from us. “Glad you’re home, brother.” Macklin tilts his beer bottle toward me, almost in salute.
“Good to be home.” I mean every word. I’ve missed out on so much by letting my pain keep me away. It’s only been a little over a month since I’ve been back, and already, I know I should have stuck with the plan, no matter what I was coming home to.
“How’s your mom?” Bowen asks.
I nod. “Hanging in there. She’s geared up for a fight.”
“I told him we were going to reach out, but wanted him to get acclimated a little before we bombarded him,” Dixon explains.
“We knew you had a lot going on,” Macklin tells me.
“Yeah, it’s been a lot, but Mom’s a trooper. She’s taking it all in stride, and her spirits are up. In fact, she’s at home with Edith, Betty, and Wanda. They all but kicked me out of the house.”
“Spitfires, the lot of them.” Dixon laughs.
“That they are, but I’m glad they’re there for her. I know Chandler and I have been driving Mom out of her mind, holding her and asking her how she’s feeling or if she needs anything.”
“That’s tough.” Bowen nods.
“I don’t know what else I can do, you know? I mean, she’s fighting for her life, battling this terrible fucking disease, and all we can do is sit back and watch.” I shake my head because fuck cancer.
“We’re here if there is anything we can do,” Macklin tells me.
“We got you,” Dixon agrees, and Bowen nods, letting me know he’s also in for anything we might need.