Page 39 of The Try Line

Jase drops into the chair next to me, wiping sweat from his brow. "You melted yet?"

"Nearly," I huff, reaching into the small cooler beside me for a cold beer. I hold one up, offering it to Jase, who cuts his eyes towards his parents. "They're not paying any attention," I assure him, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, it’s not like you're driving anywhere."

Technically, I'm supposed to be the DD by default, since I drove us all here, but I'll worry about that later. It's hot as fuck, and I need to take the edge off.

Jase accepts the beer with a sly grin, then pops the cap of the bottle with the corner of the chair arm. I hide my smirk at the proof that he's his father's son. Janel, or my parents, would have my head if she saw me handing her son a beer, but one or even a couple isn't going to hurt him. He's leaving for college in less than two months. I'm sure he'll do his fair share of drinking. It's not like Janel could claiminnocence at his age. Then again, she got pregnant her freshman year of college.

Whoops.Alright, I'm a bad uncle. Whatever. What's done is done.

"Is it weird being back?" Jase asks, and I shrug.

"A little," I tell him.

It's both the truth and a lie, because it's fucking weird. I gesture towards the yard where our family is gathered. Mom and Janel are sitting by the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the water while they fan themselves and sip from the frozen drinks Mik made them. Dad and Mik are standing near the grill, Mik looking uncomfortable. My dad never liked Mik much, even before he knocked Janel up. I can see that the years haven't changed their relationship much. The difference now is that Mik seems to be making an effort, albeit begrudgingly, to act like they're old friends.

Even if I'd stayed and been present all this time, I don't think I'd ever get used to seeing Mik like this. Even his outfit is stuffy. I snort when I notice how similarly he's dressed to my dad. They're both wearing cargo khakis and tucked-in collared shirts, except my dad's pants and sleeves are short. God forbid we see even a peek of that sexy ink crawling up his biceps.

I scoff when I notice Jase staring at me. "Does your mom pick out all his outfits for him before you come over here?"

"Probably." There's humor in his voice while he continues to watch me look at his father.

Looking away, I give Jase a once over. "At least she lets you dress like a normal person."

He grins, understanding my meaning. We exchanged a few well-meaning jokes yesterday at the park about how everyone around here acts like they live in Stepford. I was impressed that he got thereference, and even more impressed when he knew it was a book and not just a movie remake. I shouldn't have been too surprised that Mik shared his love of books and old movies with his son; it's something they bond over. That, and sports, which is what he and I tend to bond over the most.

"We used to do these cookouts all the time." I smile, looking back over the yard. "Sometimes the neighbors would come, but most of the time it was just us. And your dad, of course. He's been coming to these things since we were fifteen. Hasn't grown more comfortable being around Grams and Gramps, though, has he?"

"I don't think Gramps hates him as much as he lets on," Jase says, chuckling. "Although, I'm sure there was a time when he probably hated his guts for real."

"Yeah, well, knocking up his baby girl wasn't the first offense Mik Sanders committed against my parent's delicate sensibilities," I say, laughing into my beer as I take a swig. "Your dad used to be a different guy."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, Mik had zero fucks to give about what anyone thought of him." I snort out a laugh. "I'll never forget the first time I brought him over to hang out. Mom had no clue how to react, just stared at him with wide eyes and a fake polite smile plastered onto her face. Not gonna lie, it was one of the reasons I invited him over initially. Eventually, Mom got used to seeing him without staring, although she'd ask him why he felt the need topresent himself in such a way," I say, mimicking my mother’s voice.

"In what way?"

"You've seen pictures of him when he was your age, right?"

Jase shrugs. "Grandpa had some old pictures of when he was a kid. And I think I saw a picture once of the two of you at a match, buthe looked normal. I mean, he looked young. Looked a lot like me, actually." He smiles, like he's pleased at their family resemblance.

"We'll have to dig out some more pictures, then. I know your parents must have some hidden away somewhere."Hidden away in a lockbox, like Mik's other dirty secrets."Your dad was the anti-establishment poster boy when he was younger—long hair, piercings, and the first hints at his tattoo obsession." Jase snaps his head towards me, and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know about those. Saw a good bit of them when he was sick." Saw all of them. Every last inked inch. "Back in the day, there would have been no fucking chance that he'd button up and cover any of it."

"But he does it for mom."

I hum in agreement.

"It bothers you," Jase says after a moment of silence, where I find my eyes back on Mik.

Every few minutes he glances up and catches my eye, only to look away just as quickly, pretending he doesn't know I'm watching him. Unfortunately, his son seems to pick up on it, so I do my best to force my attention elsewhere.

"Nah. None of my business. All I care about is that you and your mom are happy."

"Why did you leave? The real reason," Jase says firmly, holding me with a serious gaze.

"It's… complicated."

"Is it? I know it has something to do with me being born. I know that you and my dad were close—like, closer than close—before mom had me."

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