Page 86 of Proof Of Life
We spend the next hour going over the good and not-so-good aspects of living in a war zone. The not-so-good list is a lot longer than the good one. The bell rings, and we file out after the kids. Stiles high-fives his nephew.
“I can’t believe you all showed up,” he says, sounding choked up.
“Like you said, we’re your brothers. Of course we showed up,” McCormick explains. “Come on, you owe me a cold beer and a basket of wings.”
As we make our way down the crowded hall, I’ve got a warm, glowing feeling in my gut. It feels good to be part of a team again, to show up for your friends, your brothers. To do a good deed and be supportive.
“Betty?!” McCormick stops short, bringing the rest of us to a halt.
“Do I know you?” The woman looks familiar. Flaming red hair, cat eye glasses, red pouty lips.
It’s Betty fucking Beasley.
“I go by Woodward at school. Betty Woodward.”
Oh fuck, I said that out loud.
McCormick blushes redder than his hair color. “We watch you online.”
“Yeah, McCormick is your biggest fan,” Stiles snipes.
Her pretty green eyes grow big and round. “McCormick the Bitch?”
The guys snicker behind their hands. All except for West. “Please tell me that’s not your online username.”
“What else would I call myself?” McCormick asks.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” Betty says pleasantly.
“What are you doing here?” McCormick asks.
“I teach home economics. What are you doing here?”
I glance at West, gauging his reaction. Is he attracted to her? Now that we know she lives nearby, is he going to engage with her? Transfer his interest from me to her? It’s a stupid fucking thought to have, but there’s no denying she’s hot, and we’re both bisexual men. It’s going to take a while for me to stop second-guessing him when it comes to women. Fuck, when it comes to anyone. I never took myself for a jealous guy until West.
I also never had anything worth losing. Until West.
Thank God, he looks more amused than interested.
“We’re retired vets. We were giving a speech to my nephew's ROTC class. In fact, we’re all members of a support group for veterans with disabilities, and as part of our therapy, we knit. That's how we know you. We all watch your videos.”
“Some of us more than others,” Stiles teases, disguising his words with a cough.
Betty smiles like that’s the best news she’s ever heard. “Get out! You all knit?” We all nod collectively, and she continues, “I just have to have you do a video with me!”
“Co-host? With Betty Beasley?” McCormick sounds like he’s about to have a stroke.
“Definitely. Give me your number and I will contact you with the details.”
McCormick almost drops his phone as he fumbles with nerves. She hands it back to him and he stares at the screen as if it’s the second coming of Christ.
“Do you mind if I give you a call?”
Betty has the grace to blush. “As long as it’s related to knitting or the show. I’m afraid you’re not exactly my type.”
Before I can get angry on his behalf, Stiles beats me to it. “Look, if you’re not into guys with disabilities, there are nicer ways of saying it. You don’t have to–”
“It’s because he’s a man,” she blurts, cutting him off.