Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(77)

“Officially speaking, it is shitty. But I don’t know, man, I get it. I was really bummed when you stopped coming to the beach, though. You’re fun.”

I blush at his direct compliment. Sure, I was able to bluntly tell Reese that I loved him, but I’ve got to get better about saying exactly what I mean. Something Cole and Diana are pros at.

“You’re fun too, Cole,” I say. It’s a start.

“Also—and don’t tell Diana I said this—I think you’ve made her a more thoughtful person,” he says. “The other day, I forgot to bring down cash and she actually offered to split her pizza with me.”

“She bought me doughnuts last week.” I laugh. “I don’t think it had anything to do with me, though. Aunt Jeanie has been talking about how much more helpful she’s been all summer. Maybe she’s just in a better mood lately?”

“ … because of you. She finally has family around she can depend on who’s not just her mom. Of all people, you must know what it’s like.” He sighs. “That boy you like? She’s been texting with him a lot. She feels bad about the whole FaceTime thing, but she really wants to make you happy.”

He scoots over and puts an arm around me. “We both do. I don’t know how this would work, with you living in the middle of nowhere and me continuing my glamorous beach life, but I hope we can stay friends. This has been a fun summer.”

I lean my head into his, and I savor this rare, platonic physical moment that for once isn’t hinting at more.

“Okay, some ground rules: only I get to cuddle with Cole.” Diana comes up behind us and forces us apart. “Did I witness some sort of makeup, though? Like, will things stop being weird?”

My gaze locks onto Cole’s, and I smile.

“Yeah, we’re done being weird.”

? ? ?

While Diana and Jeanie take the night shift, I go to pick my truck up from the repair shop. A part of me feels sick for dropping six hundred dollars on a few fixes, but I still have a nice chunk of money in my savings to get me through the next school year.

As I pull out of the garage, I hit a speed bump going onto the main street and brace myself for the harsh impact, but my ancient truck just glides smoothly over it. I imagine Reese in the passenger seat and smile. It’s about time I stopped throwing him into the roof.

I take a drive through Daytona, past Cole’s beach shop, down side roads into the more residential areas, and back into the shopping districts. When I see a grocery store, a memory sparks, and I pull in. I start writing down a recipe in my phone, but I know I’m missing so many ingredients. I’ve been avoiding this moment, but I’ve finally thought of something I can do for Jeanie as a thank-you for this time here. I just need to get over myself and call Mom.

“Heath! How are you, baby?” Mom says, and my heart thrums at hearing her voice. It’s hard not to blame her for all this—which, to be fair, is mostly her fault—but now that I’ve looked back on this experience as something that was surprisingly good for me, I can face her.

“I’m good,” I say. “Just got the truck fixed and took it out for a spin. How’s Santa Fe?”

“Oh!” she replies, and I wonder if me even asking about her well-being is surprising at this point. “Pat and I are all settled in. You’ll love the place when you get to come visit. Maybe for one of your breaks next year. They have this baseball team here that I think you should look up. The whole league is independent, and they all play in high-altitude cities in the southwest. Ever heard of anything like that?”

“I haven’t,” I say. “But that sounds cool. I’ll look it up. Hey, you always said Aunt Jeanie liked those family cabbage rolls we used to make, right?”

She pauses. “Oh yeah, Jeanie loved ’em but hated making them. She wouldn’t touch raw meat to save her life. Probably still won’t.”

“I want to make them for her as, like, a thank-you. They won’t be as good, but I’m hoping you can give me the recipe, if you have it. I’m at the store now.”

“Oh, honey, I have that down by heart. Just go in the store and I’ll walk you through it.” She pauses. “You’re right, it’s the least we can do for Jeanie. I keep telling her she can’t keep living off those corn dogs she makes at her restaurant, but you know she never listens to me.”

I don’t want to get into why they’ve been more or less estranged for my whole life, so I redirect the conversation back to the cabbage rolls. It’s an eastern European recipe that’s been passed down by Jeanie and Mom’s grandma. We have a small family that feels like it has no connection, but it’s really nice to think that I have a shot at reclaiming one of our traditions.

The next day, I get up at four a.m. to start making the cabbage rolls, which is just after Diana and Jeanie have gone to sleep. I get out the necessary pans and remove my secret bag of groceries from the fridge. I chop and dice away according to Mom’s instructions and try to remember how this works.

“ … the fuck are you doing?” Diana asks. I turn and see her bleary eyes. The light smell of stale beer and deep-fat fryer oil clings to her as she joins me in the kitchen.

“It’s a surprise for Aunt Jeanie,” I say in a whisper. “Her grandma’s—our great-grandma’s—cabbage rolls. But they have to cook for hours.”