Page 127 of Stolen Dreams
Ray pulls him in for a side hug. “Want to tell us why?”
His lips twist then relax. “What if people make fun of me again?” Lines form between his brows as he lifts his chin. “What if they’re mean to me because of Mo”—his eyes water—“Brianna?”
Ray runs his fingers through Tucker’s shorter curls. “If they treat you with disrespect, they’re not your friends. Which is their loss.” Ray kisses the top of Tucker’s head. “But then you let your teacher or Kaya know how they’re acting. Bullies aren’t allowed at school.” Ray presses his nose to Tucker’s hair, breathes him in, then straightens in his seat. “Whatever you do, don’t lose your cool. Don’t let them turn you into someone you’re not.”
Tucker nods. “’Kay.”
A few smaller tables next to us clear out and are pushed together. I mentally cross my fingers a large group of rowdy teens aren’t taking the spot. Before I can scope out our table neighbors at the door, RJ sidles up to our table with a sugar-laden monstrosity in his hand.
“I hear my grandson ordered the Cookie Monster extreme.” RJ sets down the fluorescent-blue milkshake rimmed with chocolate and topped with whipped cream, chocolate chip cookies, and blue drizzle. “Hope you’re ready for the aftereffects.” He looks pointedly at me and Ray.
“Will he need his stomach pumped later?” Ray asks, tone teasing.
“Only if he chugs it on an empty stomach,” RJ jokes back, laughing. “I need to get back to the kitchen but wanted to pop out and say hi.” RJ kisses Tucker’s head. “Let’s do something fun on Friday, little man. Just you, me, and Grandma.”
Tucker plucks a cookie from the whipped cream. “Mm-kay.” He nods and shoves the cookie in his mouth.
“Love you.” RJ gives him another kiss. “Easy on the shake.”
“Love you, Papa,” Tucker mumbles.
RJ disappears back into the kitchen, and we get a full view of the group next to us. Some familiar faces—Travis Emerson, Phoebe Graves, Delilah Fox, Levi West, and Oliver Moss, the drummer for Stone Bay’s local rock band, Hailey’s Fire—but a few I don’t recognize.
“Whoa,” Tucker whispers as he elbows Ray. “That’s Mr. Ollie!” Tucker glances back to the group then goes wide-eyed when Oliver meets his gaze.
Oliver whispers something to Levi, gets up from his chair, then moves to a seat closer to us. “Hey, Tucker. What the heck is that”—he points to the milkshake—“and how do I get one?”
Tucker appears starstruck and it’s the cutest thing ever. He fumbles over his words but manages to tell Oliver what he’s drinking.
Oliver glances over his shoulder and says, “Moje srce.” Levi meets his gaze. “Order me this Cookie Monster milkshake.” He points to the shake. “Just the buzz I need before tonight’s show.”
Levi winces, nods, then shakes his head.
“You have a show tonight, Mr. Ollie?”
Oliver gives Tucker his full attention. “Yep. At the park by the post office. Let me know if you’ll be there. I’ll get you a backstage pass.”
Tucker twists in his seat and peers up at Ray, so much anticipation in his eyes. “Please, Dad. Can we go?” He clasps his hands together. “Please, please, please.”
Ray appears casual as ever. “Only if your stomach’s not upset from this shake.”
Tucker shakes his head. “It won’t be.” He says it with absolute certainty.
The woman across from Oliver taps his arm and says, “The cookout.”
A bright smile stretches Oliver’s face as he looks at me then Ray. “We’re starting a new tradition this year. End of summercookout.” Oliver jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “If it’s too weird because of the history with Levi and your sister, I get it. But if you don’t have plans on Sunday, you’re welcome to join us.”
As one of the Seven, I’m in the loop of what happens with the other founding families. Unless it impacts me, my family, or people I love, I usually steer away from town politics, drama, and the Seven in general.
But in the past two years, a lot has come to light. Many in my generation of the Seven want change. And they’re slowly unveiling the town’s secrets. Bringing unsavory facts to the surface. Recent corruption and financial scandals. Buried truths since the “founders” names were penned on paper. Truths that involve the other half of my family—the Stonewater tribe this town is named after.
As each skeleton surfaces, I speculate whether the scandals will be buried in a deeper grave or examined with a fine-tooth comb and addressed impartially.
Only time will tell.
Since I’ve managed to avoid town squabbles and theatrics to focus on work, my circle of friends is small. But I’d love that to change. It’d be nice to form more friendships. To have more people to lean on. To chat with like minds and build lasting relationships.
I glance across the table at Ray. “A cookout sounds fun, but only if you’re comfortable.”