Burn Zone (Hotshots 1)
“Then let’s not.” Linc reached across the console, squeezed his knee. “I know this is fucked up. And crazy. And ill-advised. We’ve established all that. Us fighting isn’t going to change that, but there’s also no reason why we can’t enjoy the night like you wanted.”
“Okay.” Shifting, Jacob laid his hand over Linc’s, keeping him in place. “But you really owe me that beer now.”
“You’re on.” Linc forced himself to smile. He got it, putting up with him was no picnic, and Jacob was understandably frustrated. Honestly, he was probably only a couple of weeks or so from deciding Linc was more trouble than he was worth, this thing burning out, just as he’d predicted. His shoulders knotted up, but his gut knew it was true. And rather than fall to pieces over it, the best thing was to simply make the most of the time they did have. “Now, let’s go pick a kick-ass play structure for the kids.”
The play structures were set up outside the store, so they wandered about, considering the variations and optional add-ons. Linc was more concerned with the number of pieces and the types of connectors, but Jacob, large kid that he was, was more into the “cool” factor—pirate flags, twisty slides, climbing nets and weird-shaped teeter-totters. He was cute, and despite their earlier heavy talk, Linc found himself enjoying watching him inspect each setup. They settled on a deluxe model with a little picnic table by the digging pit, a bucket swing for baby Willow and a real roof on the fort part that made it more like a tiny house. And a pirate flag, which was totally worth the price of making Jacob smile.
“You guys must be the best uncles ever. Or...dads?” The young sales associate tossed her long silvery hair like either option was the same to her. And maybe it was. Not everyone was as accepting as Jacob wanted, but the truth was that the world was changing and plenty were. Unbidden, an image crept into his brain of the perfect clearing for a play structure behind his house, near the dog run and vegetable garden, visible from the kitchen window. The picture was so bright and crisp that he had to blink several times to get it gone.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” Finishing ringing them up, the salesclerk reminded him that he hadn’t answered her inquiry.
“You didn’t.” Linc drew in a deep breath, trying to keep that vision of a future that wasn’t to be away. “And he’s the uncle. I’m just...”
“The other uncle.” Making an exasperated noise like Linc was overcomplicating things again, Jacob pocketed his wallet. He’d refused the idea of letting Linc pay, saying he’d already worked it out with his mom. “Now, let’s load up.”
That took some work, all the boxes and timber, but finally they were back in the cab of the truck, Jacob messing around on his phone.
“Feed me,” he demanded, setting the phone where Linc could see the GPS. “This place is newer, but fabulous reviews. And all the pictures look like giant portions. You’ll be happy.”
I’m with you. That’s a given. Linc bit back the cheesy reply. “Sure. Sounds good.”
It was weird, all the smiling and sentimental thoughts he had around Jacob. Felt bubbly, like some forgotten vintage of happiness. And he couldn’t remember when he’d last been this happy. Before Wyatt’s death for sure. All winter, he’d been sure he’d never laugh like this, and yet here he was, ribs and loaded mashed potatoes, laughing as Jacob did impressions of various blowhards at work.
The brewpub Jacob had picked was packed—Friday night, not quite to the summer tourist season yet, but enough hungry locals and out-of-towners to fill every table of the renovated brick building downtown. Mixed crowd—families, twentysomethings in groups, adults clearly on dates and more than one table with two men or two women. The busyness gave them a sort of privacy that he liked, made it possible to smile at Jacob however much he wanted, steal some of his fries and not have to worry about standing out.
I could get used to this. Even more insidious than his thoughts earlier, this one snuck its tentacles into soft, fleshy spots he’d forgotten he had. And for the first time, he’d found something worse than the misery of the last few months—hope. Hope that maybe he didn’t have to hurt so damn much all the time. But hope when he should know better was fucking dangerous. Even so, he couldn’t stop his smile, couldn’t make this stop feeling so damn good. So damn right. And so very, very wrong.
Chapter Twelve
Even the sun beating down on Jacob’s back wasn’t enough to cut into his good mood. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his T-shirt, he accepted an ice water from Junior, who’d come out with May to check on their progress.