The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(42)

Kyle slumped against the car. “I don’t mean to be a jackass, Grandpa. You’ve helped me out so much.” He managed a small smile. “I almost broke Cameron Zimmerman’s wrist today. He’s Faith’s ex, cheated on her. He wasn’t happy to see her with me.”

Grandpa chuckled and smacked his knee. “Bet that little punk thought you’d just roll over and die, did he? We’ve come a long way since eighth grade, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

Just not far enough.

“Come on inside.” Grandpa pushed himself off the floor. “This calls for a beer.”

“Uh, you do remember I’m only eighteen, right?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, of course. But you’re a man, whether you feel it or not. And a man drinks a beer when his heart hurts.”

Kyle chuckled sadly. “Then your heart must heart a lot, old man.”

“Heh, that’s only one reason why a man drinks a beer. Beer’s also good because there’s a game on, it’s a hot day…and just because.”

“Works for me.”

Before they went inside, Grandpa squeezed his arm. “You’re a good kid, and you’re going to be a good man, Kyle. I want you to know I’m proud of you. Every damn day.”

Kyle ducked his head so Grandpa wouldn’t see the shine of tears in his eyes. “Thanks.”

They stood awkwardly for a second before Grandpa snorted. “Okay, enough feelings crap. Let’s drink. If you promise not to tell your dad, I’ll let you have two beers.”

The hard tangle of pain twisted up in his chest loosened a bit. “My lips are sealed.”



Thursday morning, Kyle woke up early, forgetting he was almost done with the Gladwells’ yard. Good thing he didn’t have to be over there right away, because his head was killing him. After the first beer, Grandpa decided he needed a boilermaker—and that Kyle did, too. He had to admit, the whiskey shot had made his troubles fade, but now he was regretting ever listening to the old man.

“Never trust a marine, retired or not,” he groaned, falling back on his bed. He hadn’t been this hungover since that summer he and Cade had sneaked vodka out of Cade’s dad’s liquor cabinet. They’d thrown up for three hours later that night, trying to hide their dumbassery from his parents by barfing in the neighbor’s bushes.

Thinking about Cade made him feel guilty. They used to be best friends, but Kyle hardly talked to him unless Cade came to him first. Baseball took up a lot of his time, sure, but he could’ve made more time. Why had he let eighth grade change him so much? If he hadn’t, would he be here now—breaker of Faith’s heart because he had problems? A loner with a crowd of friends? A supposed player without a single notch in his belt?

On the other hand, if he hadn’t changed, would he have met Faith at all?

That line of questioning felt like it would burn his brain out of his skull…or maybe that was the whiskey chaser. Either way, he had to face the day: he still had practice and work to finish, and the Gladwells hadn’t paid him yet. Honestly, if he could avoid going over there, he’d waive the bill, but that would never fly, would it?

He sat up slowly to find four Advil and a big glass of water on his nightstand. A note in Grandpa’s handwriting next to it said, Sorry about that. No…not really.

Kyle snorted and downed the Advil with a big slug of water. By the time he showered and threw on some athletic shorts and a T-shirt, he could keep his eyes open without squinting. He took the stairs slower than usual, just in case, and went to the kitchen for some toast.

Grandpa was doing a crossword, a big mug of coffee on the table in front of him. “How’s the head?”

“As bad as yours, I’d expect.” Kyle poured himself some coffee and threw an English muffin into the toaster. “I have to go back over to Faith’s. I need to finish their yard.”

“You going to talk to her?”

“No.” When Grandpa eyed him over the rims of his glasses, Kyle held up his hands. “She’s probably pretty pissed at me. I should leave her alone.”

“That’s an excuse.”

“Whatever.”

“Hmpf, so you say.”

“Yeah, so I say.” He leaned against the counter. “I think I might go to Cade’s after, if he’s home, before practice.”

Grandpa brightened at this. “Really? I like that kid. Haven’t seen him for a while. Tell him hi for me.”

“Will do.”

After his breakfast, there was no point in stalling. He coaxed the Toyota out of the garage and drove to the Gladwells’ house. Faith’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and Kyle felt like a coward for being relieved that she wasn’t home. Mrs. Gladwell’s car was there, though, so he trudged up to the front door and rang the bell.

She came to the door. Nothing about her expression accused of him of hurting her baby. “Kyle! Here to finish up?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just need in the garage to test the sprinklers, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Her smile turned sad. “That’s too bad. I kind of enjoyed having you around.”

She knew, then, and her disappointed expression made him feel about two inches tall. “It’s been a good job for me, too.”