Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(30)

“Excuse you?” I gasp.

He grins. “Ah, there she is. Just checking.”

“You’re trying to annoy me?”

He looks down at Tucker, glances at the game and winces as Pittsburgh gets a double off what should’ve been a single, then looks back at me. “You remember we used to play basketball at the Rivers house?”

“I remember you used to think I couldn’t keep up.”

“You couldn’t, but that’s not the point.”

My breathing is coming easier as we slip back into the old habits. “You are so lucky that innocent child is sleeping on you right now, or you’d be dead.”

“I used to wait until you’d sink the perfect shot, and then I’d tell you that you could’ve done it better, just to watch the steam roll out your ears. And it’s still that easy.”

I gape at him, because he does it on purpose?

And what does it say about me that I still take the bait?

“You-you’re—you’re an ass,” I gasp.

Tucker stirs, and I slap a hand over my mouth.

Wyatt just shrugs, but not the shoulder that would disturb Tucker. “I have to have some flaws. Otherwise I’d be insufferable.”

That is not the guy who’s been Beck’s best friend for over twenty years. I narrow my eyes at him, but I don’t call him on it. Because I have the oddest feeling that’s exactly what he wants me to do.

But I can’t resist asking, “Why only to me?”

He holds my gaze longer than I expect. “Because I was so fucking tired of being coddled, and you gave it right back, every time.”

Just because I don’t know what he’s talking about doesn’t mean he’s not telling the truth. And there’s a truth so clear in the ring of his words that I get a bone-deep shiver.

“Who coddled you?” I ask.

He shakes his head with a snort. “Better question is who didn’t?”

“Why?”

He glances at the TV, and just when I think he’s not going to answer, he does.

“Last guy my mom dated before she finally realized what she was doing to both of us and moved in with my grandma to reboot her life was a first-rate asshole,” he says. “Let’s leave it at that. But it meant my gran went around the neighborhood looking for any parents who had enough control over their kids to make them look after me.”

“Beck didn’t coddle you.”

“At first he did. All of them did. I might’ve been small and damaged, but I wasn’t blind.”

My heart’s starting to hurt, because no kid should ever feel damaged.

“Didn’t mean I could take care of myself though. That I didn’t need it. Wasn’t big enough for that.” He shakes his head. “Thought I could. But I couldn’t. And Beck saved my ass when I got into it with his best friend. Could’ve left me behind. Instead, he dropped him. Hard. Broke his nose. Got a detention in sixth grade. And then he thanked me for showing him what a douche Andy Brentwood was. Dude all but saved my life and thanked me for it.”

I swallow hard. I remember Andy, vaguely, but I never gave any thought to why Beck stopped talking about him. “That’s not coddling you. That’s doing the right thing.”

“I started it. He got detention. I got chocolate chip cookies and milk. From your mom. From Mrs. Rivers. From my grandma. I shared so the Wilsons would teach me to lift weights and so Davis would teach me his Tae Kwon Do moves. I didn’t want to be fucking helpless.”

The groan of the crowd carries through the television, even at low volume, and I glance at the game, almost relieved by the distraction.

I had no idea I’d been being an asshole to a kid who’d had enough asshole in his life.

And that doesn’t make me feel any better about my life choices.

Two-run homer. Fireballs are down by six now.

In the fifth inning.

It’s going to be a blood bath.

Copper Valley’s home team has never won a World Series, but they’ve never been quite as bad as they are this year either.

Even with Cooper Rock and his unbelievable gymnastics at second base.

“I always appreciated that you didn’t cut me any slack, and I admired your determination,” Wyatt says, speaking so softly I half think my ears are playing tricks on me. “If you could be that determined, then I could damn well be that determined too.”

When I glance at him, he’s still staring at the game.

But I know he said it.

And I know he knows I heard.

He settles deeper into the reclined seat at the other end of the couch. Tucker sighs and snuggles closer to him.

Little Tucker, safe, happy, and loved.

I overheard Wyatt telling Beck once, about eight years ago, that he didn’t want to be a dad. He didn’t know how. He was going to fuck it all up, and it wouldn’t just be himself, it would be him and a wife and kid.

But Tucker?

That kid is so very, very loved. With two parents who might live in different states, but still happy. Well-adjusted. And loved.

And I realize I need to go.

Not so I can check my email and any messages that came in while my phone was drying. Not so I can call Beck and give my brother grief for sending Wyatt here during Monica’s wedding week.