Page 62 of The Sharpest Edges

Ava’s whispered question is concerned but light as the warm night air wraps around them on the back deck of his new house. The citronella candles she brought over flicker on the table and the smell of hot dogs wafts over from the grill, where Greg grabs himself another serving.

Dean is uncomfortable as shit. He’s wary about spending time with these people he doesn’t know, one of which is a persistent reminder of his days in prison, but when Ava brought it up as a suggestion, he didn’t have the heart to say no.

He only moved in a week ago. There are still boxes to unpack and things to settle, but the patio furniture that came with the house is comfortable and there’s a sense of security that comes with being on his own turf, so he amended his agreement with a suggestion that they all come here instead. He’s ready to charge head first into this situation and get it over with rather than wait.

It’s awkward as hell, and every time he looks at Greg, he can’t help but feel like he’s right back in prison again. The clink of steel cuffs and the bite of a broken toe flashes in his mind, but he pushes it back the best he can and to his credit,Greg hasn’t brought up the prison even once.

Dean shrugs, nudging her with his shoulder and lying through his teeth to spare her feelings. The least he can do is try, too. “Nah, it’s fine. Better than I thought it’d be.”

“More wine?” she asks him, a sympathetic pout on her lips, and he nods enthusiastically. He is absolutely up for anything to take the edge off his nervous anxiety.

Greg had only been too eager to help him set up the grill he bought the day before, figuring he and Ava would get some use out of it even past this group dinner. They haven’t said much since then though and he’s struggling to find something to prompt the conversation, unwilling to leave Ava to carry all of it herself but not experienced enough in small talk to be much help.

Lori chooses that moment to emerge from the bathroom and back out onto the deck, settling across from them where Greg is seated with a fresh hot dog piled up high with all the fixings.

“Ava says you work magic on cars. How long have you been doing that?” Lori asks over the rim of her wine glass, genuine and curious.

“Dunno if I’d call it magic, but a long time. Can’t remember not being under the hood of a car trying to put it back together again.”

Ava gives him a look he’s not sure about, something between a mixture of fondness and pride, giving his knee a squeeze before she pulls it away and back into her own lap again. “Don’t let him fool you. He worked magic on mine.”

“Ya ever work on bikes?” Greg asks.

Dean perks up. He secretly wishes he could work on more bikes but Hank’s shop rarely gets them in, leaving him saddledwith broken cars more often than not. “Sure do. You ride?”

Greg shakes his head, but there’s a sly smile on his mouth that he sends Lori’s way. “No, not yet, been wantin’ to get one, though. Maybe a Harley? Or one of those electric ones?

“Ain’t nothing ever gonna beat a Harley, but if you want something different, go electric. They’re quiet as shit, get better gas mileage, fast. I think the shop in town is having a sale soon.” He finishes his reply more animated than he started, forgetting for a moment how awkward all of this is.

“Don’t encourage him,” Lori says with a laugh.

Greg huffs. “Not sayin’ I’m gonna get one tomorrow, just sayin’ maybe, that’s all.”

Dean has a feeling this conversation is an old one, but something else tells him that Lori will find a bike in their driveway soon enough. He wouldn’t want to be a fly on the wall when the shit hits the fan over that.

“Got one I keep at the shop if you ever wanna give it a try. Drive it around the block some.” He probably shouldn’t offer considering his wife seems against the idea, but Dean’s desire to find acceptance is strong so he does anyway, getting a nod from Greg that makes him look like a kid in a candy store.

Lori only lets out a long-suffering sigh, elbowing her husband in the ribs and telling him not to drive the damn thing home.

“Do I get a ride too?” Ava asks with a twinkle in her eyes, and he realizes he never told her about his bike. They still have so much to learn about each other.

“Of course you do.” He dips his head, feeling the wine flush his skin and warm his veins.

He’ll take her out soon. Maybe head up to the mountains where it’s curvy and desolate, or a midnight trip along a backroad, just the two of them on the back of a bike.

* * *

“Thank you for doing this. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Their guests have filed out the front door and Ava’s voice trails over to him as she closes it behind them, leaning back against the wood.

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t exactly hard though, at least not as much as he thought it would be and once that bike conversation broke the ice, it was smooth sailing.

These people may not be half bad after all.

Dean moves closer, taking up her space so she has to tilt her head up to face him. “Was fine. They care about you and that makes ‘em okay in my book.”

One delicate hand finds the side of his neck, warm and comforting, her thumb brushing the skin there and encouraging him to lean in even further. Not that he needs much encouragement.

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