Page 61 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

“Dude. What crawled further up your ass than usual?” James chuckles.

Reid claps Greyson on the back, moving past to load up his plate. “Aww, Greycie, are you still salty you caught James checking out Liv’s ass the other day?”

Greyson wheels around, sucker punching Reid in the gut, who nearly drops his plate.

At the same time, they bark⁠—

Greyson with “Shut the fuck up.”

And Reid with “Party foul! You don’t mess with hot wings.”

James is cackling, dropping behind the kitchen island to avoid the wing Greyson hurls at his head.

I’m happy to sit back and observe these clowns and enjoy my beer. I don’t have one often, but it’s the perfect way to end the day I’ve had.

First thing this morning, I walked in on Delilah changing, her ass jiggling as she shimmied on her Wranglers. Mucking stalls with a hard on isn’t exactly comfortable.

Then, fucking CJ was poking around, running his mouth. I love the guy but he’s worse than a helicopter parent sometimes.

To top off my discomfort, I pinched the shit out of my hand in the fence I was repairing. Hurts almost as much as when I smashed it with a hammer the day Delilah sexted me for the first time.

Both accidents are evidence I don’t work well distracted—and I’m too close to my goals to get distracted.

When Delilah left with the girls this evening, she lingered longer than usual hugging me goodbye and I swear to god she pressed her hips into me, like my aching dick was a magnet for her cunt.

A beer can clunks down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Looked like you could use another,” Reid says, sitting beside me on the couch. The football game’s playing on the flat screen, but we’re all so used to watching sports we don’t need the volume very loud.

“Thanks man,” I say, downing the rest of my beer and cracking open the new one. “This’ll be my last one, still have to drive home tonight. Ain’t close enough with y’all to have a slumber party yet.”

“Good choice. Those two are fucking ridiculous, bickering over Olivia,” Reid says, shoving a chicken wing into his mouth whole and sucking the bone clean.

I’m tempted to fish for gossip to share with Delilah, but that’s not my style, and it’s important to me to earn these men’s respect.

We eat in comfortable silence, periodically shouting at the ref or after a good play.

Reid tosses his paper plate onto the coffee table and settles back into the couch cushions.

“You’ve been doin’ good work. Probably don’t say it enough, but things have been running smoothly since you came on and my stress levels are lower. Isabelle sure thanks you for me not being such a cranky asshole at the end of the day anymore.”

Recognition from Reid is unreal, his approval fulfilling a need I didn’t know I had. Dad’s been disappearing for so long, Mom’s been so preoccupied with his care, and Quincy’s been grieving—so I haven’t gotten much attention, let alone praise, these past few years.

Delilah’s always proud of me, and her opinion means more to me than anything, but approval from Reid is a close second. I’ve come to admire him and wouldn’t mind if I was more like him.

I catch an elbow to the back of the head, jerking me from my conversation with Reid. James tumbles to the floor behind the couch. He bumped me trying to dodge Greyson’s wrath.

“Will you both knock it the hell off? Christ. Hayes is a decade younger than both of you and he’s more mature than you on his worst day,” Reid chastises.

“Don’t lump me in with that asshole,” Greyson grumbles, righting himself and acting like he wasn’t trying to bitch slap his best friend five seconds ago.

Having zero survival instincts whatsoever, James pokes the bear. “Olivia doesn’t seem to mind my maturity level.”

He yelps and dives over the back of the couch, landing on Reid’s and my lap, fleeing from Greyson’s swinging fist.

We shove him off us onto the ground and turn up the volume on the game.

Despite dodging two thirty-five-year-old men fighting like children, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.