Page 92 of Golden Rule

“I just had this moment of weakness, where I kept thinking that I just needed something to knock the pain out, so I can push through it. But… then I got home, saw Blue, and it was like a switch flipped, and I realized how I was about to fuck things up even worse, so… I flushed them.”

The guys are quiet now, and it feels like my little side mission to Tripp’s was an out-of-body experience, because what the actual fuck was I thinking?

“Well, the important thing is, you got rid of that shit,” Sterling says.

“Exactly,” Ricky chimes in.

I blow out a breath. “Damn. It feels like a weight has just lifted off me. I hate keeping things from Blue, but I can’t put this shit on her right now. She’s already dealing with enough. The last thing she needs is to stress more than she already is.”

About me losing my position.

About having to move away from Cypress Pointe again.

The thought of it has me shaking my head. “I can’t do that to her.”

My next thought is of Blue’s past, the history with her parents’ addiction. The more I think about it,allof it, the stupider I feel.

“This pressure… it’s… suffocating.” I stand straight, holding the pool stick upright as I zone out.

“So, let’s talk about it,” Ricky says. “What’s your plan?”

I sigh, preparing to share the idea I came up with on my way here. “I’m gonna reach out to our old strength and conditioning coach from NCU. I’m thinking I’ll do some extra work to build up the shoulder.”

They’re all quiet, and I’m guessing they think the plan sucks.

“Won’t that just be more taxing?” Dane asks.

My chest feels tight as I consider this being the only viable option. Even if it’s a shitty one.

“I hear you, but this is all I have.”

“Then, it’ll be enough,” Sterling jumps in. “And we’ve got your back if it isn’t. For whatever you need.”

I nod at him, then sip my soda. “Much appreciated. Now, can we change the subject?”

Sterling nods. “Absolutely.”

“I’ve got something. How about you three get in touch with the tailor this week?” Dane asks. “It takes a while to get custom-fitted tuxes, and he needs your measurements. And quite frankly, I’d like to get Joss off my back about it.”

I laugh at that. “Yeah, right. Joss willalwaysbe on your back. Keeping the three of us in line isherhappy place. But be honest,” I say, staring him down. “You get off on her bossing your ass around.”

The slow smile that hitches on my brother’s lips says it all.

“Fucking freak,” I grumble, and he doesn’t deny it.

“Seriously, though. She’s stressed—wondering if all the pieces will fall into place, wondering if her parents will behave themselves—so I’m trying to do what I can to keep things running smoothly. I can’t do anything about her folks’ nasty divorce, but Icanwrangle you three dickheads in to get fitted for your tuxes.”

As a guy who also likes to keep his wife as stress free as possible, I get it. “Fair enough. Let her know I’ll take care of it as soon as possible.”

Ricky steps toward the table as I bend forward to take my shot. Then, I glance left when he places a hundred-dollar bill on the edge.

“Speaking of what’s possible, no way you’re gonna make that shot,” he teases, casually pointing at the seven ball.

Smiling, I pull out a bill to match, placing it on top of his. Then, a laugh leaves me when I sink the shot, happily slippingboth mineandRicky’s money into my pocket. “Fuck off. Don’t ever doubt me.”

“Lucky shot,” he smiles, then checks the time on his phone. “Shit, I’m late. I’m meeting Hunter over at Dusty’s.”

“Everything cool?”

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