Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“It’s our old man,” River muttered. “He reaches out to Reese every few years, ’cause he knows I’d tell him to go to hell.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t see me here.”
“’Course not,” Ash replied. “Want me to call you later?”
River shrugged with one shoulder, visibly ready to get out of here. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later,” Ash stated.
Another scowl appeared. “Then why did you fuckin’ ask?”
Ash smiled. “It’s important to give the kids the option to say the right thing first.”
River’s scowl deepened, and he turned and walked away without another word.
I rubbed Ash’s leg. “They don’t have much family, do they?”
Ash shook his head. “I’ll make sure they come over for dinner soon. I think Shay has brothers Hallie’s and Mikey’s ages—thereabouts. They can bring them too.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I love you. You’re a good man.”
It was still too soon to discuss college and expensive instructors, but Dylan was certainly serious about his dream to go pro. He’d been thrilled when Ash and I had given him the new putting green, and he and Ash spent an entire day setting it up on the front lawn. It was supposed to become one with the lawn, except no new grass would grow from underneath. Dylan’s job would be to maintain the artificial grass, keep it free from dirt and such.
One Saturday at the end of May, Dylan was so focused on practicing with Ash that I brought dinner out to them. I’d made pizza, so everyone was scattered anyway. Lily and Micah ate in front of the TV, Hallie ate in her room, and I supposed Dylan and Ash could eat outside.
It’d been a busy day, and my parents would be here early tomorrow. But considering we’d all worked up a sweat, something told me we’d crash early too. Ash and Micah had started spending more time together on their bikes. Every morning on the weekends, about half an hour, but usually more. Every afternoon, once homework was done. Dylan tagged along sometimes too.
After filling two plates with pizza, I grabbed two sodas too and then walked outside.
Ash could say he was on the fence about Dylan’s vision for the future, but he couldn’t hide his hopes. He wanted this for Dylan, partly because he could be a part of the process as a dad and big supporter.
Helping out with homework had kinda stopped being Ash’s thing once Dylan and Hallie had reached high school. He could kick ass in Trivial Pursuit, he had what Hallie called a “practical math brain,” he loved history, and…that was where it ended. He wouldn’t go near Hallie’s English assignments or any of her AP classes. He was like one of those musicians who were self-taught. Who could play like a legend without having a single clue how to read sheet music. And it made Ash take a step back and leave those things to me. But sports? Ash knew sports. He wasn’t picky either. Recently, I found him studying both golf and chess on his phone when we were getting ready for bed or winding down to a movie.
I paused on the porch upon seeing Dylan concentrating on his next move. He and Ash were positioned on opposite sides of the green, with Dylan finding his aim and Ash squatting down to…do whatever he was doing. Golf wasn’t my area of expertise. When someone had golf on the TV, I usually only saw middle-aged men staring at a hole in the ground.
“Remember your knees, buddy,” Ash murmured.
Right. One mustn’t forget the knees.
Dylan loosened his stance a fraction, then carefully hit the ball.
He sank it.
I smiled.
“Fantastic,” Ash praised. “Try that again.”
That was my cue.
I climbed off the porch. “Remembering your knees is one thing, but please remember to eat too.”
Dylan cracked a smirk and tossed his ball cap to the side. The sun was setting behind the trees, so I supposed he didn’t need it anymore.
Ash rose to his feet and turned his own ball cap backward. “Damn, boy. That smells good.” He was eyeing the pizza. “We’re not eating inside?”
“The others are off doing their own thing anyway.” I handed them their plates and sodas. “I’m just gonna go over to James and Jordan and see if they’re ready for tomorrow, and then I’ll enjoy my own pizza with a magazine.” A magazine full of rope joy.
“We have ’bout a half hour of daylight left,” he said. “Then our asses belong on the couch.”
I chuckled. It was settled.
I left them to it and trailed over to the Hacketts.
This weekend, the Mclean app was buzzing with three things. Well-wishes and congrats to Lucas and Colt getting married, as well as Ivy “possibly” being in labor. Tate had informed everyone that she and her partners were heading to the hospital, but that had been early this morning. Lastly, chatter about the next Game now that the theme had been confirmed. Murder mystery.