Page 13 of Seein’ Red

Still, I unlock it, opening up my texts, rereading the last one I sent as we piled out of the limo, leaving the girls to go off on their adventure.

You okay?

The little bubble with my question sits squarely at the bottom, an itty-bitty “read” underneath it. At least that lets me know she got it. Being left on read, however, is a kick to the nuts.

Which, frankly, I deserve.

I was a dick last night. I know it. She knows it. Hell, all of us know it.

I shouldn't have asked that question. There were a million others I could have lobbed at her to get the rise I was looking for. Almost anything else would have resulted in some smart-ass response and probably a telling-off. Which is what I had been going for. Instead, I took it a step too far.

Cat and mouse is a dangerous game. And right now, I’m on the losing end of it.

The worst part of it was not watching Willa chug that beer, knowing that the question upset her so much she resorted to that. Or wondering if she got home safe afterward. It was watching her this morning on the limo ride up to Atlanta, still green around the gills, turning down mimosas because her tummy “still wasn’t quite right.”

Fuck, I’m an asshole…

“Who you texting?” Camden asks, leaning over, pretending to peek at my phone.

I know he’s only pretending, calling me out more than anything, because if he really wanted to, he could have seen. And maybe he did. Nonetheless, I shut my phone off as fast as I can, slipping it back into my pocket.

“No one.”

“Which one of the real housewives of Hickory Hills is it?” Dustin asks, barely containing his amusement.

“For fuck’s sake!” My exasperation gets the best of me, my voice louder than I intended. Looking around, I make sure no one heard my outburst. If they did, they didn’t seem to mind. “I am not leaving a trail of angry husbands through our small town. I’m not anyone’s lawn boy. At least not like that. My life isn’t some cheesy porno.”

Camden spits out his drink in shock, clearly not expecting me to drop the word “porno” in the middle of a baseball game. Noel’s still looking forward, but I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s rolling his eyes. Consider it a twin thing.

“So who is it?” Dustin prods. “C’mon, dude, we know there’s someone. Just tell us.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell us.”

I ignore his plea, fighting the urge to check my phone again. I know there isn’t a reply. I would have felt it buzz. My mind tries to play tricks on me though, telling me I could have somehow missed it. But I hold out, not wanting to give these guys any more ammo. This is one secret I’m keeping.

The subject gets dropped, and we watch the game mostly in silence, the first inning bleeding into the second, then into the third. There’s plenty of excitement on the field, but none of it is enough to fully distract me.

“If you had to choose a walk-up song, what would it be?” Dustin asks, passing another round of beer and hot dogs down the row.

“‘I Want It That Way,’” Camden answers almost immediately, as if he didn’t even have to think about it.

“Seriously?” I ask. Never took him for a boy band kind of guy.

“Yup.” Camden nods, sure in his answer. “I dare you not to sing along when it comes on. Simply not possible. You’d have the whole crowd singing at the top of their lungs every time it was your turn.”

“You never cease to surprise me, doc.”

He shrugs, taking a bite of his hot dog. It’s times like these that I almost forget he’s a recent addition to our group. It also makes me regret that we never made more of an effort to include him when we were younger. He perfectly rounds out our foursome, and not just because he makes Sylvie so happy. But because he fits with us.

“Solid choice,” Dustin agrees. “But it’s no ‘Walk the Line.’”

“‘Walk the Line’?” Noel repeats.

“It’s the greatest country song of all time!”

“But as a walk-up song?” I retort. “There’s no hype in ‘Walk the Line.’”