Page 33 of Keg's Revelation

“Yeah, you do, but you really look like him,” Reagan said and pointed to a picture that I remembered seeing before. It was of Reed and his dad and mom. His dad was dressed in a military uniform and held Reed who was still a toddler.

Staring at the picture, I could see what Reagan did. “You do, Ry. How old was your dad in that picture?”

“I’m not sure. Twenty-one, twenty-two,” Reed answered as a door slammed.

“Hey! You’re here. Why didn’t you come out back?” Mr. Borelli stood in the doorway of the kitchen. I’d been upset when he’d talked to me the other day at Haven and I hadn’t taken a good look at him. If Reed was close on his dad’s age in the picture, he had to be in his mid to late fifties. Other than some gray working through at his temples, he looked the same. I thought when I dated Reed, he was good looking, now was no different. The man was aging like a fine wine.

“You could pass as Reed’s brother,” I blurted, then I felt my face grow hot from blushing.

Reed snorted, and his dad threw back his head and laughed. “Darlin’, if you’re going to pass out those type of compliments, please keep coming over. You make an old man feel good.”

“Ry looks like you.” Reagan, who never met a stranger and had no filter, decided to join the conversation.

“Hey, Dad. That’s Reagan, and this is Ryker.”

His dad looked down at Reagan and smiled. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. And you look like your momma.”

Reagan, who usually wasn’t shy, shocked me by stepping back and put an arm around my waist and leaning into my side.

“Nice to meet you, Ryker. Hear you prefer Ry?” Mr. Borelli stuck out his big hand, and Ry hesitantly placed his in to shake hands.

“Either, but most people call me, Ry.” I gave him a little nudge. “Sir.”

Reed chuckled, and I glared at him.

“Ry, it is.”

“What do I call you...sir?”

“I guess whatever you’re comfortable with. My granddaughter calls me papa. You can call me that or any of the other of the names set aside for grandfathers. You can even call Prez or Wild Bill. I’ll answer to any of them.”

“Prez means you’re the president of the club.” Ry’s eyes went to the vest Mr. Borelli had on that was like Reed’s. “You are the president; it says it on your vest. Reed told us what everything stood for. Wow, it’s just like on the television shows.” Ry glanced at me with ‘see’ look, then turned to Reed. “You’re his son, and I’m yours. On the show, the son takes over when the dad steps down, or he gets killed.”

“Ry, I am so taking the TV out of your room.” I looked at Reed’s dad. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Borelli.”

“Don’t worry about it, Raven. I’ve caught a few episodes myself. Wanted to see what all the hype was about.” Reed’s dad was smiling, and I was glad he didn’t get upset over Ry’s comment.

“Really, you watched them, Wild Bill?”

Well, it seemed Ry had chosen what he was going to call his grandfather.

“A couple times. You know not to believe everything you see on TV, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now come on. I cooked burgers on the grill, and the French fries should just about be finished in the oven.”

“Okay. Come on, Reagan,” Ry said and grabbed her hand. She let go and went with Ry, both following Reed’s dad like he was the pied piper. Ry had always been good about including her, even when he didn’t really want her tagging along.

“I think Dad has an admirer.”

“You probably don’t see it because he is your dad, but when he enters a room, he brings a powerful presence with him. So do you.”

Reed didn’t reply, he just put his hand at the small of my back, leading me toward the kitchen. I had only taken a couple steps when I abruptly stopped in front of a picture.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this is hanging on the wall.” It was Reed and I dressed up for his senior prom. I was only a sophomore and I’d talked him in to going, telling him everyone had to go to their senior prom. “You hadn’t wanted to go.”

“No, I had no desire to go.”

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