Page 65 of The Falcon and the Foe

I felt myself blush and then reminded myself to keep it in my pants.

Russ held out his hand, his hand that had gripped both our cocks not even twenty-four hours ago.

I shook it, his touch sending a tingle down my arm. “See you at the next meeting.”

The pit in my stomach vanished. We had a fun weekend, an aberration brought on by two men who hadn’t gotten any in a very long time. That was that.

“C’mon, buddy.” I knocked twice on the van door. Josh leapt out and landed in a Spider-Man pose. He could be a real card when he wanted to.

“Bye, Scout Leader Russ!”

Russ gave Josh a Falcons salute, then gave me a knowing nod that made me smile in the deepest part of my chest.

21

CAL

Like any homeowner, I spent an inordinate amount of my time at the hardware store. I wasn’t handy by any means, and yet I was a regular visitor to Throw a Wrench In It. The store sat in a converted Victorian house on the corner of Maple Street in downtown Sourwood. The owners used to work in the film industry as a make-up artist and set designer. When they came to a nearby town for a shoot, they realized how much they hated the hustle and bustle of the movies and put down roots in Sourwood. They bought the hardware store from an old couple who’d run it for forty years and recently retired.

“There should be a rule that when you sell a house to someone, you have to provide a list of every type of light bulb used in said house.” A light in my bathroom had gone out, but it wasn’t a standard bulb, and it was so old that the serial number had worn off. The only way to find a replacement was to comb the racks of bulbs until I found the right fit. Even Barb, the co-owner who always wore a full face of makeup, was at a loss.

I held out my blown-out bulb to different types of bulbs, trying to find the right match. Mitch helped me out since he was the handiest member of the Single Dads Club. He’d built a new deck onto his house. I had...watched and provided emotional support.

Unlike Leo and Buzz, he worked odd hours running his bar Stone’s Throw Tavern, meaning he could take random afternoon trips with me to search out a replacement light bulb.

“You’ve been in this house for close to a decade, not to mention growing up there, and this is the first time you’re changing this bulb?” Mitch asked, exasperated. He wore his usual lumberjack-adjacent uniform of plaid flannel, jeans, and boots. He squatted down to scan the bottom rows.

“It’s for the downstairs bathroom, which I only use when I have company over.”

“Which is never.”

“Hey, I’ve offered to host gatherings at my place. You guys refuse.”

“That’s because usually when people offer to host events, they clean beforehand, and they put out snacks. Not a bag of M&M’s and warm beer.”

“Those M&M’s were in a Sharing Size bag!”

He shot me a lovingly skeptical look.

“I’ve been cleaning,” I said, like an addict sharing that he was on the wagon. “We both have, Josh and I. We’ve gotten into a good routine.” Inspired by Russ. A smile met my lips.

He nodded—surprised but encouraging. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then that means you have to come over.”

Mitch was only two years older than me, but he had this godfatherly aura of wisdom about him. Thanks to having a baby at eighteen, he had to grow up fast. Though, he’d always been the more serious and mature one in the group, even in high school. There was no one I trusted more to help me pick out the proper light bulb.

He held up what we thought was going to be the matching bulb, but the bottom wasn’t right. He grumbled and nearly smashed it in his hand before putting it back.

“It might be easier to buy a whole new light fixture,” he said.

“But the one in the bathroom is so nice. We’re close, Mitch. I know we are.”

He rolled his eyes. “So, how was your camping trip with Scoutmaster Asshole?”

“Um. It was fine.”

“What’d you all do?” He examined a tall, thin bulb in his hands.

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