Page 37 of Unbearable

With the shingles and old tarp finally cleared, Trent surveyed the roof and marked areas where plywood needed replacing. Fortunately, he had just enough on hand to complete the task. Colt and Trent took charge of replacing the plywood while Dorian and I focused on cleaning up the debris scattered on the ground.

As we shoveled the discarded shingles into the dumpster, Dorian cleared his throat, breaking the silence between us.

“It seems like you and Trent are making progress. At least, you’re not at each other’s throats anymore,” he said.

“I don’t know about that,” I replied.

“I’m serious, Dotty. You seem to be getting along a little better,” Dorian insisted.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll be glad to have my own space back in Seattle,” I said, but the words felt bitter leaving my mouth. I wasn’t ready to leave yet.

“I wouldn’t call that your own space. Noah seems to be a home body,” Dorian pointed out.

“She doesn’t count. She’s practically an extension of myself,” I said, giving him an inquisitive expression. “I didn’t realize you two had talked while you were there.” Noah hadn’t said anything to me about Dorian except that he showed up and seemed nice.

Which was odd in itself, since Dorian typically was anything but nice to anyone outside of our family or Trent.

“It’s hard not to when she’s always around. She seems nice, though. I can see why you’re friends,” Dorian admitted.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t get any ideas. She has a boyfriend,” I said, and he scoffed in response.

“What?” I asked.

“That guy is a dick,” Dorian said.

“John? He seems perfectly nice to me,” I said, continuing to pick up the trash that scattered around the cabin.

“Yeah, well, it’s none of my business anyway,” he admitted, tying off a trash bag and throwing it into the bin.

“You are right. It isn’t your business.” I playfully smacked his shoulder.

After a few hours, we finally completed laying down the tarp and securing the new shingles. At some point, Trent turned his cap backward, as if it wasn’t hard enough not to stare at him with his rugged charm.

“Well, gentlemen, I’d say this is a job well done,” I announced, tossing each of them a beer from the cooler. “Thanks for your help. How about we wind down and then head to Outlaw’s? Drinks are on me.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Colt grinned.

“Let me check with Dad to see if he’s okay watching Gracie for the evening. If so, count me in,” Dorian agreed, tapping away at his phone.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty beat. Might head back and call it an early night,” Trent grumbled.

“Oh, come on, man,” Dorian teased, nudging Trent’s shoulder. “You need to loosen up.”

“Yeah, you can’t bail now,” Colt added.

Trent ran a hand down his face and sighed dramatically. “Fine, but Dotty’s driving,” he relented, tossing me the keys with a smirk.

“Fine,” I replied, catching the keys and giving Trent a playful eye roll.

THIRTEEN

Dotty

TEQUILA - DAN + SHAY

Outlaw’s was bustlingwith activity as we stepped inside. The neon lights cast a colorful glow across the room, highlighting the rustic charm of the place. A vintage jukebox in the corner played classic country tunes, adding a lively rhythm to the hum of conversations.

The bar was lined with people nursing their drinks, while bartenders skillfully mixed cocktails and poured pints of beer. As we wove our way through the crowd, the scent of whiskey and barbecue permeated the air. Almost every table was occupied.

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