Page 72 of Haven

“Look at that proud papa smile,” he teases, and if I was allowed to hit the fucker, I would. “Did you tell her partner if he drops her, you’re gonna drophim?”

“No,” I grumble. “Ashlyn told me I couldn’t threaten him.”

Watty makes a whipping motion and noise. “Damn, man. She’s got you locked down.”

“Shut the fuck up and help me figure out where to take her tonight. I was thinking about that little place on South Street we used to go to. The one that had the best tacos.”

“She’s a fucking heiress. You can’t take her to a place with paper plates, no matter how good the tacos are, you idiot. Take her to Speakeasy in the basement of the hotel with the shitty elevator. It’s classy without being showy. Chicks like that shit. Plus, they have real napkins, not paper towels.”

“That’s actually a good idea.” I pull out my phone and make a reservation for tonight, then stand and push the rest of Watty’s food out of his reach, just to fuck with him.

“What the fuck, man. Give me back my sammy.”

“No one calls a sandwich asammypast the age of eight, dickhead.” I pat his stomach. “Besides. Just because you’re not playing anymore doesn’t mean you need to get fat.”

He flexes both arms. “Fuck off, asshole. I’m not fat. I’m fucking hungry.”

“Didn’t your momma ever tell you not to eat your dessert before dinner?” I inch the rolling tray back just a bit, and he grabs it out of my hands.

“It’s lunch. Momma never said nothing about lunch.”

I look at him, broken in that fucking hospital bed and cringe. Surgery went well. He’s lucky. “Call me if you need a ride home when they release you, brother.”

“Hey, Dix... Have fun with your girl.”

My girl... Yeah, that never gets old.

* * *

Brandon

Hey shortstuff, you got a free hour or two after school today?’

Lindy

For you, big guy? Of course.

Brandon

Pick you up from school?

Lindy

Any chance you can come now so I can skip calc?

Brandon

You got a test?

Lindy

Nope.

Brandon

Promise not to tell your mom?

Lindy

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