Page 62 of You Can Make Me
He put his arm around me and walked me toward the kitchen. “You know I do.”
If anyone understood what I’d been through, even without me having to tell him everything, it was Walter.
“Nice fucking place, Junior. Big step from Bakersfield.”
“Yeah, the kids love to give me shit about it. It’s great being up here, though, and Dane loves being close to his mom. Helluva lot better weather than Bakersfield, better places to eat and shit. We go out and catch shows almost every week. And now we’re neighbors, huh?”
“Just down the street. But you know, we’re in the low-lands, in a penthouse-type fucking condo.” I rolled my eyes. “I go from my shithole apartment to a glamor pad. He’s got a fuckingbidet, Junior. What do I know about bidets?”
Walter was laughing so hard he was crying by the time we joined our guys.
Dee Dee was giving Cooper a taste of whatever he was cooking, and Cooper’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“Oh my God, that’s amazing. I only recently graduated to food with flavor,” Cooper joked, and something loosened in my chest. I wondered how he’d be, talking about his recovery, but he seemed to feel comfortable. He winked at me. “Although I had the best cook ever. He made boring food taste like heaven.”
I rocked back on my heels. It was ridiculous how much praise from him puffed up my chest. “I love cooking for you.”
Our eyes met, and I was suddenly wondering why we’d left the comfort of Cooper’s—okay, I guess mine, too—bed at all.
Right, because he was nearly killed and there were still monsters out there who wanted to hurt him and Dane.
Walter snorted, breaking the mood, and we all laughed. Yeah, he couldn’t say a damn word.
“Why don’t you two grab a seat. Walter, mind helping me?”
Cooper and I walked over to the dining table that was long enough to seat eight, but the place settings were gathered at one end. There was already a salad on the table, freshly baked, steaming corn bread, and Walter carried over a huge pot of gumbo.
“Cooper, we’ve got wine, beer, or sparkling water?”
“Oh, sparkling water. Thank you. As much as I love wine, Doc says I should be cautious about alcohol while my brain is still healing.”
I squeezed his hand under the table, and he blew out a breath. I’d told him in the car that he could absolutely trust Walter with his life and any information. “He’s the most loyal person I know. And he’s not going to give you shit like Gene. At least not until he knows you better.”
“You can’t mess around with that,” Walter said, as he set a beer in front of me.
“What if I wanted wine?” I faked being offended, and Walter rolled his eyes at me.
“Please. You might be moving up in the world, but you’ve only graduated to Beverly Hillbilly.”
I held up the bottle and nodded. “Can’t take the Bakersfield out of the man.”
Walter stood behind Dane’s chair, waiting to pull it out for him. Dane brought a can of sparkling water and a glass with ice for Cooper, set them down, and then smiled at Walter with so much love as he sat, it gave my heart a twinge.
Six months ago, I would have stayed quiet, but the hollow feeling would have clawed at my insides until I couldn’t catch my breath. The time after Cooper walked out on me had been miserable. Seeing my friends with their significant others had been torture, and I couldn’t say a word.
I reached over and took Cooper’s hand in mine, and the smile he gave me in return brought me peace like nothing else. Although, I had a niggling worry about what Cooper would ask Dane, and what Dane would feel comfortable telling him. Walter and I discussed their meeting and agreed that we’d let them work it out unless it started to go south.
Dane started to serve the gumbo, but his hands shook so much that he nearly dropped the first bowl. Walter stepped in with the save.
“Sorry,” Dane muttered as he sat down.”You’re our first guests besides family and Ryan and Kal.”
I recalled how badly his hands shook when we first met. He seemed so much better, but some things would probably plague him for life, like they would Cooper. I wanted to kill both of those monsters for what they’d done to these special men.
“No worries,” Cooper said. “Denny takes care of everything for me. I broke three dishes trying to prove that I could do it on my own until I gave in.”
“Can I serve the salad for you?” I was a little overzealous as I jumped up to help.
“Thanks, man.” Dane smiled and folded his hands in his lap. He kept his hair down around his face, but he didn’t seem to make himself quite so small as he had when I’d met him. He wore a long-sleeved tunic over jeans with flared bottoms, which worked as well today as it likely had forty years ago, when he was an up-and-coming folk singer.
