34. Alex

CHAPTER 34

ALEX

I waited until Tate and Dylan disappeared around the corner before settling into my usual seat, opposite my usual lunch companion.

“It’s good to see you among the living,” Brooks said, shoving the menu toward the edge of the table without bothering to open it.

“Is that a dig about Beamer?” I asked, flipping my menu open and looking down at it even though I knew the entree options by heart.

Brooks snapped it closed and pushed it toward his. “It was a commentary about how you’ve been holed up at your house since Dylan got out of the hospital.”

“I swear you were just over.” I tapped the side of my temple like I was trying to recall the event in question. “You drank two bottles of wine in my back yard.”

“I had help.”

I flipped him the bird, smiling. “So you do remember.”

“As if I could ever forget your smiling face.” Brooks flagged down our normal waiter. “But you know what I meant.”

“Gentlemen,” Tony, our waiter, greeted. “The usual?”

“Yes,” Brooks answered before I could. “And a water for my partner, and…”

“Water for mine,” I added.

“Happy to see you both with company today,” Tony said.

I picked the menus up and passed them off, knowing neither of us was going to look at them and not expecting Tate or Dylan to be back in time to even bother looking.

“We can order while you’re here,” Brooks said, giving me a knowing smirk, which I did my best to avoid. “I’ll have the steakhouse sandwich and my partner will have a cheeseburger.”

“And you?” Tony asked, turning his attention to me.

I sighed, knowing I was about to answer all of Brooks’ questions simply by ordering Dylan's lunch.

“Strawberry chicken salad and a grilled chicken on focaccia,” I said.

“Right away, gentlemen.”

As soon as Tony walked away, I shook an unimpressed finger at Brooks. “Don’t start.”

He laughed, holding up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Things are going well then,” he said.

I rolled my eyes.

“He was so temperamental the last time I saw him,” Brooks went on.

I crossed my arms in front of me, knowing he wasn’t going to stop until he felt he’d properly put me through it. Maybe I deserved it, having been in hiding so long after things with Car had gone south and then once again after taking Dylan home. But I didn’t think Brooks could truly blame me for it.

“He still is,” I said , defenses weakening.

“But you’re up for the job.”

“You knew I was the whole time.”

“I knew you needed to be needed,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “And Dylan…”

“Yeah.” I swallowed, nodding.

“Things are better?”

“Things are really good, Brooks.” I groaned, letting out a breath that rattled my lips. “I love him.”

My best friend bit his lips between his teeth, fighting back a smile. I wondered if he’d bet anyone about the over/under on me falling head over heels for Tate’s best friend. I’d just been a pawn in his little chess game the whole time.

“Say it,” I prompted, swirling my hand in a loop so he would get it over with.

Tony brought our drinks, which offered me little reprieve.

“I don’t have anything to say.” Brooks grinned. “I’m just happy. Love looks good on you.”

“I didn’t say he said it back.”

“Of course he said it back or the two of you wouldn’t be here.”

I bumped my head against the padded cushion of the booth, raising my glass to take a big drink of water. Swallowing, I debated the merits of throwing the rest of the contents in Brooks’ face, but I knew he meant well. It was easy to be smug when you’d had the upper hand the whole time.

“It hasn’t been easy,” I finally said, shrugging. “But he’s worth it.”

“Of course he is.”

“I talked to Beamer too.”

That shut him up, and I smirked at him, glancing toward the bathrooms to see if Dylan and Tate were on their way back, but there was still no sign of them. I hoped Tate was going easy on him after how long it had been since they’d seen each other. I also hoped Tate didn’t dislike me for his earlier assumptions about my relationship with Dylan. Things were complicated, or at least they had been before, and I knew I hadn’t made the best first impression when it came to how things were between us. But Brooks had been right, it was what I needed…and what Dylan needed too. He needed to know I would fight for him and with him, and I had. I would.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how that went?” I prompted, brow raised.

Brooks took a drink and steadied himself. “I’m offended I even have to. You know there was a time where I was the first person you called after something like that.”

“Don’t tell Ford.”

Brooks snorted.

“It was good to talk to him,” I said, glancing again toward the bathrooms. It wasn’t that I was hiding the conversation from Dylan, but things were so fresh with us I didn’t want him to think I was focused on someone other than him. Car and I were in a good place, or at least on our way to it, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that over any misplaced jealousy. “Cleared the air a bit, I think.”

“That’s good.”

“He told me I loved Dylan before I was ready to admit it to anyone.”

Brooks tried. Bless him, he tried to stifle the smile that threatened to split his face in two, but he’d never been good at hiding his hand. Once the expression broke free, I rolled my eyes at him and reached for my water, spinning the glass around. It was heavy, the ice clinking against the sides, condensation slippery against my fingers.

“I hope you don’t think that just because he’s head over heels for that California prick, it means what the two of you had was any less special,” Brooks said.

Car’s voice was quiet in my head, kind.

Dalton knows where my loyalties lie .

That was great for him, for me…but did Dylan know where mine were? Did he trust it? I chewed the inside of my cheek, realizing that Dylan and I had done a good job about speaking to each other with half-truths and almost-promises. He deserved everything, though, and I wanted to give it to him.

I wanted to take it from him.

“He’s a friend,” I said to Brooks, meaning it for the first time in months. “We’re friends.”

“Good.” Brooks pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it on the table just as Tony walked over with a tray full of food. The boys were still in the bathroom talking about lord knew what. As the food was served, Brooks tapped out a quick text on his phone before returning it to his pocket. “I texted Tate to come back.”

The strawberries on top of Dylan’s salad were as red as if they’d come out of a cartoon. I stared down at them, imagining the ripe juiciness of them.

“We should go back to the farm,” I said. “A do-over.”

Brooks chuckled, getting up from the booth to make room for Tate to slide in. He hadn’t even looked over his shoulder to see them coming. Somehow he just knew that Tate was there and, fuck, I envied their connection even as I stood on my own accord, making room for Dylan to take his seat. He gave me a soft smile, looking happy and relaxed.

“Everything okay?” I asked, taking my seat and smoothing my napkin back over my lap.

“Everything’s great,” he said, bending over his salad and taking a deep breath. “Oh, God, these strawberries are wild. This looks delicious.”

“They look fresh,” I rasped, watching with careful focus as Dylan speared one of the strawberry slices with his fork. His lashes fluttered as his lips closed around it and heat pooled dangerously low in my belly.

“They’re the best strawberries I’ve ever had,” he said, stabbing another slice with his fork and shoving it toward me. “You have to try one.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see the amused look on Brooks’ face, but he graciously chose that time to stay silent. I licked my lips and opened, letting Dylan feed the strawberry slice into my mouth. It was delicious. Juicy and sweet and probably the ripest piece of fruit I’d ever had in my life.

“You have good taste,” Dylan said, eyes locked on mine. “This is better than eggs.”

“Up for debate,” I murmured.

“Get a room,” Tate griped from across the table, letting out a pained oomph when Brooks delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs.

Licking my lips, I forced myself to look anywhere but Dylan because it was far too simple, too much like second nature already, to make him my one and only focus.

“Speaking of strawberries and rooms, Alex just proposed a return trip to the farm,” Brooks said, which had Tate immediately perking up. “A do-over, as it were.”

“A first time for me,” Dylan said, clearing his throat. “If I’m invited, of course.”

“Why wouldn’t yo—” Tate started to ask, only to get cut off again by another gesture from Brooks.

“You’re invited,” I said softly, turning to Dylan and taking his face into my hands. His cheeks were flushed, maybe from the conversation he’d had with Tate in the bathroom, maybe from the strawberries, or maybe still…maybe from me, from my hands on his skin, my fingers against his cheeks. “Everywhere I go, you have a place.”

He rubbed his lips together, the outline of his teeth almost visible through the thin skin.

“I want you to come,” I said next, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah?”

I nodded.

“Your friends must have a bad impression of me after last time,” he said, ignoring the fact that one of my friends was sitting directly across from us and obviously had no problems with him at all.

“I love you,” I reminded him. “That’s what matters.”

“No one has any feelings about you at all yet,” Brooks said, crunching the toasted bread of his sandwich between his fingers. “Beyond gratitude.”

Dylan fought against my hands on his face, almost yanking his entire body to swivel so he could look at Brooks instead of me.

“Gratitude?”

The air sucked out of the room, my lungs suddenly too big for my chest, my mouth and nose fully incapable of getting enough air into them for me to breathe. I opened my mouth to protest whatever Brooks was going to say next, but no sound came out, just a tired little croak that no one besides me even noticed.

“You brought him back,” Brooks said simply. “More than any of us could ever do.”

Then he bit into his sandwich like he’d said the sky was blue or the grass was green. Dylan swallowed nervously, clearly unsure of what to say to that, but also knowing Brooks had effectively ended the conversation with his silent dismissal. He picked up his fork and shoveled around some lettuce until he’d assembled a bite that had a little bit of each ingredient accounted for on the tines. I watched him eat, feeling proud and horny and weak and whole. Love was a terrifying feeling, I realized. Consuming and draining and so fucking necessary.

“You brought him back,” Tate said, stare locked on my profile.

Dylan’s cheeks flushed almost as red as the strawberries in his salad, but he didn’t say anything to that. Just took another bite, chewed slowly and swallowed before reaching for his drink and washing it all down with a large sip of water.

Parched.

Love had me parched.

I threw a sideways glance at Tate, just long enough to watch him smile before shrugging one shoulder at me. He bit into his burger and moaned happily, wiping some melted cheese from the corner of his mouth.

“This is so good,” he said to Brooks, who smiled softly. “You picked good.”

“You picked good too,” Dylan said.

I swallowed, like time around us had stopped and started up again before I’d even had a chance to notice. My lungs fit in my chest again, my heart beat steadily, if not a little faster than normal.

“What?”

“The salad,” he said, offering me another strawberry, eyes sparking as he watched me come back into my body. “It’s the best I’ve ever had.”