Page 17 of Truth or Spare

“Danke! I’m taking that as a compliment,” he boasted, popping the collar of the bowling shirt and winking cheekily atDewey. “Found this on sale. Why would you let this treasure go for $15?”

Dewey shrugged, more interested in the opened top buttons and the glimpse of Theo’s bare chest. “It’s too big for most of the women who come in and hot pink isn’t as popular with men around here, I guess.” He gave himself a shake and focused. “Their loss. Cassie’s coming in to run the desk while I handle things in the workshop. Your job is to give her a hand if it gets busy and keep an eye on the trash cans and the floors,” Dewey said with a nod at the seating areas at the end of each lane. “We’ll have a decent night as long as things run smoothly in the back and we can maintain order up here,” he predicted while mentally crossing his fingers.

It had been a long time since Dewey couldjustrun the workshop on a league night. Nights when Dewey ran the alley alone were pure chaos. Thankfully, Cassie was usually available to run the desk after she got off at the salon, but Dewey would spend the evening racing between the front and the back of the alley, tidying and helping players between resets and repairs.

“I think I can manage that!” Theo said with a cheerful thumbs up.

“Good. But be prepared: they might grab you if one of the teams is short and they need an extra body. I don’t mind if you want to play as long as you’ve got a handle on everything else.”

Theo cheered and rubbed his hands together. “Sounds like fun.”

“Should be,” Dewey replied, nodding as he scanned around them to see if there was anything left to do. “League nights used to be my favorite, when we had a full staff.”

For a moment, Dewey saw the alley filled with happy, laughing players and heard the sound of balls spinning down the lanes and striking pins. He smiled as he saw Roddy, goofing around and entertaining players while their father chatted withCassie and happy patrons at the front desk. Dewey recalled the easy, instant satisfaction of whipping a few balls down a lane for a few fast strikes and high fives whenever he had free time.

Now, Dewey couldn’t manage a decent game, his arm got so tired and his grip lost its strength so quickly. It was almost a blessing, being too busy to stop and enjoy the community of faithful bowlers that had raised him. Dewey didn’t want any of them noticing how much his arms shook or seeing him drop balls mid swing. He wouldn’t be able to fool them and the whole town would know that Dewey was deteriorating.

The last thing Dewey wanted was more of Oslo’s pity. He was already the poor sap whose brother took off after their father died, leaving him with a family business to run and a baby to raise. None of that had felt like a burden or worthy of praise to Dewey. He loved Brooks Bowling with his whole heart and didn’t want to do anything else but run it the way his father would have. And he considered Bryce a blessing and cherished every moment with that boy.

These days, there were other bowling alleys between Oslo and Syracuse, but people still came frommilesto play at Brooks because it was tradition. They had learned to play with their parents and grandparents as Dewey grew up alongside them. And despite Dewey’s occasional grumbles, it was an honor, seeing those players pass their love of the game and Brooks Bowling onto their children and grandchildren.

He often felt like a caretaker of something nobler than a small bowling alley and revered his responsibility to his community. But Dewey’s myasthenia gravis and rheumatoid arthritis were burdens that made damn near everything he did more difficult and left him utterly wiped out. Often in the middle of tasks and long before the end of the day.

Even with his worsening condition, Dewey was still grateful for everything he had. He didn’t want to give up his positionas keeper of the Brooks Family Bowling flame or be seen as weak and helpless. So far, Theo was proving to be more of an accidental handful, but he’d keep everyone distracted and all eyes off of Dewey for another evening, at least.

“Just watch the players. Make sure everyone keeps their street shoes and bags out of the way so no one trips. With Cassie up front and me in the workshop, it should be a pretty easy night.”

It would be a lot easier if Dewey had an extra able body in the back, but he was already relieved, knowing that Theo was taking care of the evening’s patrons. He might have been clueless around tools and was baffled by the register, but Theo was a natural when it came to charming players and tidying after them.

“Why don’t you get in a practice game? We’re all set and it should be quiet for the next hour or so,” Dewey noted as he checked his watch.

“Sounds like a brilliant idea!” Theo said and went to select a ball from the stand behind lane 2’s seating area. He chose a hot pink ball to match his shirt and Dewey was just about to sneak back to the office for a power nap when Theo lined up to make his first roll.

Theo’s grip was all wrong and he was still swinging the ball like he was attempting an underhanded softball pitch.

“Hold on!” Dewey stopped him and jogged over. “Not like that,” he said as he stepped behind Theo and supported the hand with the ball. It took just a moment to adjust Theo’s grasp, sliding the proper fingers into the holes. Dewey cupped Theo’s hand, spreading his palm over the ball.

“Ach so! Is that what I’ve been doing wrong?” Theo laughed softly, shimmying his shoulders and settling against Dewey’s chest. “How do you make the ball spin?” he asked, glancing back at Dewey. His hair brushed Dewey’s cheek and his smilewas drowsy and taunting as Theo wiggled his brows. “I saw you throw the sexiest strike the other day and I was hoping for a private lesson.”

“Were you?” Dewey croaked and coughed, nodding as he licked his lips and squinted at the pins at the other end of the lane. “I was just walking by and it was early and I didn’t think anyone was looking,” he babbled, too aware of how nice it felt being this close to Theo. Dewey was tempted to nuzzle his face into the corner of Theo’s neck and inhale more of his intoxicating cologne and aftershave. Nothing in Oslo had ever smelled as soft and clean as Theo, and Dewey was overcome with the urge to sniff and squeeze andtaste.Theo’s remarks about the soda syrup and the taste of ass were ricocheting inside his brain. Dewey was burning up as he tightened his hold on Theo’s hand and made a turning motion. “Like this,” he said weakly.

“Like this?” Theo murmured while mimicking the movement, his arm and hand swinging and turning easily with Dewey’s.

“Yup.” He wasn’t capable of more than that as Theo relaxed in his arms and earnestly observed. “It’s in the wrist. Like you’re turning a dial,” Dewey explained in a hot, blushing mumble.

Dewey had given countless lessons over the course of his life. He had even flirted while doing it a few times, but he’d never been this aware of the other person. Theo’s shoulders and frame were much wider than the women Dewey had dated and fooled around with in the past. He was so much stronger and more solid than their softer, smaller bodies. Dewey had thoroughly enjoyed those encounters, but he was captivated, imagining how different sex would feel with a body he could truly burrow into and manhandle.

“You gonna teach him something, Doobie, or are you two gonna get a room?” Keith asked.

“You sound jealous, Keith,” Theo called back but his eyes remained on the pins at the end of the lane. “And here I thought it was a matter of aiming the ball and keeping it as straight as possible,” he said absently, seemingly unaware that Dewey was sweating or of the hard-on swelling in his jeans as they practiced swinging and turning the ball in Theo’s hand.

“Nope,” Dewey said raggedly. “You want to aim for the outside and it’ll curve toward the center pin once you figure out how to spin it.”

“Ah! Physics!” Theo replied as he stepped forward, easing out of Dewey’s embrace. He drew the ball back and let go, sending it rolling down the lane. It arced nicely, but slid into the gutter instead of careening toward the pins. “Scheiße!” he exclaimed softly.

“That was a lot better, though,” Dewey said and went to the return to retrieve the ball when it came down the short ramp and rolled toward him. He picked it up and grunted softly at the heavy weight and the immediate burning in his wrist. He should have used both hands and almost dropped it, but Theo eagerly leaned in and took it from him.

“Show me again!” he said once he was in position, holding the ball up and in front of his face.

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