The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Not Tim,” I say, pressing my chin against the top of her head.

“That was the last time. I think my mom ran him off for good after that. It was probably a relief for him. He never fought her on it.”

“I don’t understand. When’s the last time you talked to him?”

When she doesn’t move, I nudge her. “Laney?”

“That was the last time.”

“Wait, you don’t talk to him at all? You told me you didn’t talk much.”

She rests her chin on my chest, guilty light brown eyes trained on my Adam’s apple. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful, it’s just not something I freely go around admitting to people, you know?”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She moves to sit, her hair cascading over her dusty pink nipples. “Do you have any idea how lucky I am to have been raised by two headstrong women? Seriously I don’t wrestle with it.” She taps her temple.

“But you’re talking about it.”

“Only because it came up. It’s not something I dwell on, like ever. Gotta let people be who they are. Jimmy Cox did not want to be my father. If it was forced, it would have made us both miserable anyway.”

“You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Hell no. No. Not at all.” She grins and stands, and I admire her from my place on her bed. “I’ll bet your clothes are dry.” Hazel eyes trail down to my dick as it swells in wordless appreciation.

“Get up, maestro, you don’t want to make another bad impression on my mom. Even though what you’ve got going on there is mighty impressive.”

I move to stand and feel every muscle in my body scream in protest along with the beginning of an epic headache.

She pulls a long T-shirt over her head and grins. “Feeling good now, tough guy?”

“Even my earlobes hurt.”

“Poor baby.” She slaps my bare ass. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed and full of grease.”

“Laney,” I whisper. When she turns for the door, I pull her back to my chest. Arms wrapped around her, I simply hold her, and she lets me. No words are spoken. No declarations are made. We don’t need them. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Grannism—Don’t go trying to find the pretty in ugly people. That’s like saving your sunshine for shit. Even in better light, it’s still a glowing turd.

Laney

Feeling melancholy, I let the back door close and sit on our porch bundled up in my favorite fuzzy blanket with Max at my heels. My phone buzzes in my lap, and I beam when I see Theo would like to FaceTime.

I answer with a smile, but I can’t see him at all because it’s pitch dark.

“Hey, I can’t see you.”

“This FaceTime is more so I can see you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”