Page 96 of Trouble
Ten minutes later:
Aiden: War, why haven’t you responded? The text says read…
Aiden: Hello?
Brooks: Not everyone is attached to their phone.
Aiden: It says read!
Beckett has left the chat.
With a laugh, I shake my head and navigate out of the thread to pull up a new one so I can shoot our right winger a text separately.
Me: Everything okay?
War: Went from a single guy with no family to responsible for three kids. How do you think I’m doing?
My chest tightens. The rest of the guys don’t know yet, but War’s life has gone through an enormous change over the last few months, and it all took a dramatic turn two weeks ago. It’s not my story to tell, but he could use a friend. As much as I don’t want to leave Dec’s, I may need to head back to Boston to see if I can help him.
So many of our friends and colleagues have settled down recently, leaving only a handful of single guys who still go out after games. Danieland Camden, the young fucks, scour the bar for their nightly conquests pretty quickly, then disappear. War seems to have lost interest in the meaningless hookups, and I have too, choosing instead to be War’s sounding board. Guy needs it, and to be honest, it’s felt good to be needed.
The more we talked, the more I realized that maybe I could see myself settling down with someone.
Me: want me to head your way? Happy to hang with you and the kids or watch them for a bit so you can get out.
War: Nah. I’m good.
Me: promise?
War: yeah, I’ve got a plan. I’ll fill you in next week.
“What should we do until Melina gets home?” Dec asks, instantly garnering my attention like he does every time he walks into a room.
When I take him in, my heart trips over itself. Will I ever look at this man and not feel this way? God, I hope not. He makes me feel alive. Like I have a purpose. Even if it’s merely to entertain him. The things I would do to make him smile…
I pocket my phone and focus on the man in front of me. War would tell me if he needed me.
Declan’s fresh from the shower, his dark hair damp and his scruff neatly trimmed, wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and a long-sleeve Bolts T. I like seeing him in my team’s colors way too fucking much.
“Want to watch football?” I ask. “Notre Dame plays at one.”
It’s just another normal Saturday. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. So what if I was on my knees for him a couple of hours ago? So what if I know what his lips taste like? He’s still Declan, my best friend, and on Saturdays, we watch college football.
If I don’t focus on keeping things normal, I’m liable to beg him to join me in the bedroom. Now that I know how he feels rutting against me, I could spend hours doing nothing but fucking around.
We have a ton of shit to figure out first. Namely, how to be the people we were this morning while still being who we’ve always been, because I can’t lose us.
He grunts. “That works. Should I order food?”
I give him a simple nod, and he’s off to order. We don’t have to discuss what we want, because we always order the same thing when we watch football. Overloaded nachos, wings, and beer. These are the only cheat meals I allow myself.
Declan may be disciplined in most things, but food ain’t one of them. Ironic, since my food plans are about the only rules I do follow.
I pull two beers from the fridge and am popping the caps when he ends the call.
“Food will be here in about forty-five minutes,” he says, taking a bottle from me.
“Fine by me. I feel like we just ate.”