Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(9)

“I need about a dozen two-by-fours,” Matt says, trying to wave Penn off. “And a couple boxes of nails.”

“I figured we were going to come up short.”

Penn digs a water bottle from the cooler in the back of my truck. “That’s what you get for letting Matt do the calculations.”

They chat about something quietly as I busy myself with picking up the screws on the floorboard of my truck. It would be a completely normal day if I didn’t have a knot winding in the pit of my stomach so tight I can feel it radiating through my core.

By the time I get the screws back in the box and the passenger’s door shut, there’s a peace in the air. The bantering has stopped, and a stillness settles across the lawn.

Matt wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he gazes over the forest below. “Can you imagine walking out your door in the morning to take a piss and then seeing this?”

“I don’t normally piss out my front door, but I see your point,” I say, admiring the acres of forest surrounding the building site.

“Well, I do and I get it.” Penn takes a few steps in front of us. “Nice chunk of land.”

“Nah, it’s more than that,” I say. I can imagine the yard full of toys, the house smelling like roast beef. “It’s the perfect spot for a home.”

Matt takes a deep breath and works his neck back and forth. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’ . . .”

Penn groans. “Thanks for the warning.”

“I’m being serious,” Matt protests. “Hear me out, will ya?”

“We’re listening,” I tell him, preparing myself. Absolutely anything in the world could topple out of his mouth. Nothing would surprise me. A few things would irritate me, and I have a feeling he’s headed that direction.

Matt pauses, possibly to get his courage up, and takes another drink. His lips pull together as he screws the top back on. “We’re getting old, guys. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad, having a house like this with a woman and—”

“Did you just suggest monogamy to me?” Penn gasps. “Do you know me at all?”

I give them both a look. “This day gets stranger by the minute.”

“Fuck you, guys.” Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m just saying maybe there’s something to be said for predictable pussy.”

Shoving away from the truck, I laugh. “That’s an oxymoron. Pussy is never predictable.”

Matt nods. “Yeah. You’re right. Bad choice of words. What about consistent pussy?”

I was right. I know where he’s going with this, and I’m not about to let him get there without a few attempts at redirection.

“Consistent pussy means a consistent headache,” I say.

Penn shrugs. “I don’t know what either of you are talking about. If there’s one thing in my life that’s consistent, it’s women.”

Matt’s head swings side to side. “You know what I’m getting at.”

“Do we?” I raise a brow. It’s more of a warning than a question.

“I do, and I think Matt better tread lightly.” Penn points a finger his way. “If he kills you, I’m helping bury your body.”

Matt and I have a standoff—him trying to make a point and me trying to deflect it. I have no clue why he thinks today of all days is the day to go there, but I refuse. He doesn’t agree.

“Seriously. Do you ever wonder what might’ve been?” Matt asks, ignoring my glare.

I twist so we’re face-to-face. I don’t want anything getting lost in translation. “No,” I state. “I don’t. If you have to wonder why I don’t, you better walk your ass away before I knock you upside the head.”

Matt slumps as my point sinks in.

“What might have been wasn’t for a damn good reason. It wasn’t and it won’t. How pretty she is or how long we dated or how many fucking sparks flew this morning doesn’t make any difference.” I look at my brother and then at my friend. “Get it?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Matt says, his eyes falling to his boots.

“I figured you might be.” Glancing up the path, I succumb to the realization that if I stay here with these two, all we’re going to do is rehash the past. I can’t do that until I sort it out in my head. I need to go now. “I’m going to town. I’ll be back.”

“Got ya.” Penn tosses his empty bottle in the back of my truck. “Sorry we’re assholes.”

“I know.” Making my way to the driver’s side, I pop open the door. “I’ll go by Mucker’s and bring us back some lunch.”

“Excellent peace offering,” Matt says. “I’ll make sure I get the front done today just to be nice.”

“Whatever.” I climb inside the cab as they back away from the bed.

I sit, engine off, watching my friends make their way back to the jobsite, and I kind of regret biting their heads off. It was them just being them. They’re always jackasses, but at the end of the day, I can’t blame them.

Everyone was devastated when things between Neely and me ended. We were as much a part of Dogwood Lane as the train tracks through the middle of town. Baseball captain and elite gymnast. The all-American couple who would have a slew of babies if anything were right and fair in the world. Turns out, there’s nothing right or fair about the world at all.