He eyed us, the truck, the soda between Ash and me, and the napkins. “Lunch date in a parkin’ lot outside a golf store?”
“We’re classy like that,” Ash said. “We picked up a putting green for our son. What brings you out here, buddy?”
River glanced back at the diner for a beat. “Just waitin’ for Reese and Shay so we can pick up the damn weddin’ gift for the Carters.”
Ah.
“You sure?” Ash asked. Just when I knitted my brows together, wondering why he was questioning River, Ash pointed toward the diner. “That’s Reese, innit? Coming out with that older fella?”
River cursed under his breath and faced us. “So maybe I lied. Is he lookin’ over here?”
I peered slightly behind River. True enough, Reese was there too. He was getting into a rusty old truck with the other man.
“No, they’re driving off soon,” Ash responded. “Like right now.”
River blew out another breath and scowled a little. “Motherfucker.”
Ash waited him out patiently, reminding me of a few years back when he’d had a different kind of friendship with River and Reese. The dynamic hadn’t been obvious to everyone whatsoever, but some of us had picked up on how Ash sometimes turned into the Tenleys’ big brother in a way. Not forkink or community-related matters, but occasionally if someone looked grumpy or down in the dumps. Ash was quick to ask what was wrong—and dig deeper—and Reese and River hadn’t shied away from it like they usually did with others. I believed it had to do with Ash’s patience. The questions might come quickly, but he had endless patience for the answers.
“It’s our old man,” River muttered. “He reaches out to Reese every few years, ’cause he knows I’d tell him to go to hell.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t see me here.”
“’Course not,” Ash replied. “Want me to call you later?”
River shrugged with one shoulder, visibly ready to get out of here. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later,” Ash stated.
Another scowl appeared. “Then why did you fuckin’ ask?”
Ash smiled. “It’s important to give the kids the option to say the right thing first.”
River’s scowl deepened, and he turned and walked away without another word.
I rubbed Ash’s leg. “They don’t have much family, do they?”
Ash shook his head. “I’ll make sure they come over for dinner soon. I think Shay has brothers Hallie’s and Mikey’s ages—thereabouts. They can bring them too.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I love you. You’re a good man.”
It was still too soon to discuss college and expensive instructors, but Dylan was certainly serious about his dream to go pro. He’d been thrilled when Ash and I had given him the new putting green, and he and Ash spent an entire day setting it up on the front lawn. It was supposed to become one with the lawn, exceptno new grass would grow from underneath. Dylan’s job would be to maintain the artificial grass, keep it free from dirt and such.
One Saturday at the end of May, Dylan was so focused on practicing with Ash that I brought dinner out to them. I’d made pizza, so everyone was scattered anyway. Lily and Micah ate in front of the TV, Hallie ate in her room, and I supposed Dylan and Ash could eat outside.
It’d been a busy day, and my parents would be here early tomorrow. But considering we’d all worked up a sweat, something told me we’d crash early too. Ash and Micah had started spending more time together on their bikes. Every morning on the weekends, about half an hour, but usually more. Every afternoon, once homework was done. Dylan tagged along sometimes too.
After filling two plates with pizza, I grabbed two sodas too and then walked outside.
Ash could say he was on the fence about Dylan’s vision for the future, but he couldn’t hide his hopes. He wanted this for Dylan, partly because he could be a part of the process as a dad and big supporter.
Helping out with homework had kinda stopped being Ash’s thing once Dylan and Hallie had reached high school. He could kick ass in Trivial Pursuit, he had what Hallie called a “practical math brain,” he loved history, and…that was where it ended. He wouldn’t go near Hallie’s English assignments or any of her AP classes. He was like one of those musicians who were self-taught. Who could play like a legend without having a single clue how to read sheet music. And it made Ash take a step back and leave those things to me. But sports? Ash knew sports. He wasn’t picky either. Recently, I found him studying both golf and chess on his phone when we were getting ready for bed or winding down to a movie.
I paused on the porch upon seeing Dylan concentrating on his next move. He and Ash were positioned on opposite sides of the green, with Dylan finding his aim and Ash squatting down to…do whatever he was doing. Golf wasn’t my area of expertise. When someone had golf on the TV, I usually only saw middle-aged men staring at a hole in the ground.
“Remember your knees, buddy,” Ash murmured.
Right. One mustn’t forget the knees.
Dylan loosened his stance a fraction, then carefully hit the ball.
