Page 106 of Cheap Shot
“Give us five minutes,” Cooper mutters. “We’ll get there.”
Laughter ripples through the room—small, real. Cole looks at me, then. His eyes land like a question. Like he’s afraid of what I see.
But all I feel is pride. So much of it, I think I might come undone. He’s standing in front of the people who have hurt him, disappointed him, and somehow, he’s still choosing vulnerability. He’s letting his brother in, and for once, his brother’s meeting him there.
Darius claps. “Okay. Everyone hug now.”
The brothers don’t hug. Not yet, but they both lean toward Darius, wrapping their arm around him, shoulders bumping. It’s messy and far from being fixed, but at least this is a start.
Cole glances at me over Darius’s curls. His eyes are glassy, lips parted like he’s trying to find words for a feeling too big to name. And I know the word he’s looking for: home.
Epilogue
Cole
One Year Later
The front porch creaks under my boots as I lean against the railing, a cold bottle of beer sweating in my hand. The late-spring air smells like rosemary, warm earth, and Momma’s cherry pie cooling on the windowsill. The inside of the house is much different from the last time we were all here together. Instead of being cold and lifeless, full of anger and judgment, the house feels alive—bubbling over with noise and the kind of love that used to feel like it belonged to everyone else but me. Not anymore.
Michele pushes open the screen door, heading right past me toward the tables set up in the front yard. “Only Ms. Mel would choose to have a barbecue in the front yard, since the back is under construction.”
“Under construction is an understatement, Trouble.” I wink, bringing the non-alcoholic beer to my lips and taking a healthy pull. My eyes focus on her ass as she bends, placing whatever is in her hands on the table. “Darius said something about not liking to ride the elevator to the condo’s community pool, and a week later, there are contractors coming to the house to put in a pool.”
“She just wants to spoil her grandbabies.” Michelle giggles, the sound floating in the air, sweet and sharp like sunlight glinting off ice.
Her laughter has become one of my all-time favorite sounds, even more than the puck sliding across the ice. It wraps around me, filling my entire being with warmth. It's the same high that I used to chase with alcohol and pills.
“Spoiled?” I scoff, taking another healthy pull from the bottle. “Spoiled would be buying a gym membership, not tearing up the backyard and having an in-ground pool put in.”
“You’re just mad that she wouldn’t do it for you and your brothers when you were younger.”
I place the nearly empty bottle on the railing, reaching over and pulling Michele into me. “Maybe, but that’s beside that point. I just want to make sure everyone gets equal attention.”
Michele’s eyes widen, her hands pressing against my chest. “But I’m not…We aren’t… Wait, what?”
I chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I know, but it never hurts to plan for the future.”
Michele opens her mouth to respond just as the screen door bangs against the house, causing both of us to jump in surprise. Alise and Stacey come out the door, heading toward the row of tables sitting in the front yard.
“You’re wrong. There is no way I’m naming my son Gordie.” Stacey balances a plate of deviled eggs in her hand as she slowly makes her way down the front stairs.
“Let me grab that for you,” Michele offers, but Stacey pulls the plate closer to her.
Stacey’s belly curves out beneath the apron she borrowed from my mom, swatting at Michele’s hand. “Hell no. You already ate most of the ones I bought for the barbecue. Thank goodness Ms. Mel had eggs in the fridge so I could make some more.”
Michele isn’t the only one who's obsessed with these deviled eggs. Everyone in the family has been trying to snag one since she arrived, so she’s been guarding them like they’re buried treasure.
“What about baby names?” I chime in, trying to sneak an egg of my own off the plate, but Stacey’s faster, smacking my hand hard before continuing down the steps toward the tables.
Alise snatches my beer off the railing and takes a swig. Her face promptly pulls up in disgust. “How can you even drink that shit? I get that your not drinking alcohol, but this tastes even worse than beer.”
“The same way you can drink those fruity cocktails you love so much.”
“Well, those are good.”
“So is the beer, but since I can’t have beer this is the next best thing.”
Alise and I stare at each other for a few moments before we both break out into a fit of loud laughter. Things seemed to have gone right back to how they were between Alise and me. It took a while for me to open up to her about what was going on, but when I did, she didn’t judge me. No one did, but the fear was there. Instead, she smacked me upside the head, wrapped me in a warm hug, and then asked me what I wanted for dinner.
