Page 197 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Levi holds out his hands. “Didn’t come to fight.”
“Then turn around. This ain’t a good time for hugs and brotherly bonding.”
It’s never a good time for either of those things.
The outline of a bug scurries across the grass as I duck lower, angling the light beneath the undercarriage.
“I’m not looking for a hug but if you need one.”
I swat his hand off my back. “I don’t need a fucking hug.”
“What do you need?”
“You to fuck off. I’ve already spelled it out.” I scan the suspension, looking for anything bent, scraped, or leaking.
Nothing jumps out.
“I ain’t going anywhere.” The metal creeks under his weight when he slouches against it. “It’s a meet and greet. Harmless.”
“Harmless, my ass. I wouldn’t put it past Josie to have paid for a private lap dance,” I snarl, but that isn’t what’s bothering me.
“Dean took Hope’s ticket, and I’m sure he wedged his way in no matter what Josie said. He’ll watch over them.” He chuckles. “And take the lap dance for himself.”
I’ve had enough of this conversation.
“Don’t you have a wife to go fuss over?” I reach under, tapping the stabilizer arm lightly with two fingers, listening for a loose rattle.
“There it is.”
“There is what?”
“That dig at my wife. You’re always digging at my wife.” Levi sticks the tip of his boot into the ground, kicking at something.
I snort. “What do you expect? Me to be more like you? Big happy family man.”
“It wouldn’t hurt, would it? To get off that high horse you’re sitting on and come back to our level.”
My inspection under here is done. Now it’s just a barrier to keep something between us.
“Nothing to say?”
“It’s best that way.” I wave the flashlight for appearance over purpose.
“Says you. So you can bottle it up inside. Play the martyr. The protector.”
“It’s better than the betrayer.” My voice is laced with bitterness.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I sit back on my heels, exhale through my nose, and rub a smudge of grease off my palm with his shirt. “Means you married the enemy.”
“I married Hope.”
“HopeFox. The enemy.”
After a final glance around the wheel well, I rise slowly, stretching my legs as I dust off my hands.
“She ain’t the enemy.”
