Page 96 of Filled

“I try.”

I lean back. Watch them. Brady with his forehead on the table, Cruz rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. Dante watching Cruz watch Brady, his mouth tipping up at one corner. Dakota tucked under Cruz’s other arm, drinking her Coke through a straw, hazel eyes finding mine across the table.

She holds my gaze. She mouths something I can’t quite catch. I think it’sthank you.

I nod, once.

“Logistics,” I say, because somebody has to.

“More logistics?” Cruz groans.

“Tomorrow night. My place. I cook. We figure out a real schedule. Brady, you bring nothing, just yourself. Dakota, same.Cruz and Dante, bring wine if you feel the inclination to be useful for once.”

“I’m always useful,” Cruz states.

“You really aren’t.”

His brow furrows. “Fine, I’m decorative.”

“You’re a hazard,” I state.

“A hot hazard.”

Dante: “He’s not wrong.”

I sigh. Long. Deep.

Brady lifts his head and looks around the table. At Dakota. At Cruz. At Dante. At me.

“Coach,” he says. Quiet. “I’m in. All the way. Whatever this hot-mess express is.”

I feel my chest do a slow, dangerous thing. “I know you are, kid.”

“Just so you all know.”

“We know,” Dakota says, finding his hand under the table.

Cruz lifts his beer. “To the dumbest, hottest, most felony-adjacent thing any of us has ever done.”

“Beautiful toast,” Dante says, lifting his.

I lift mine. Dakota lifts her Coke. Brady, last, lifts his beer, and his hand only shakes a little.

The glasses clink. Quiet, in the corner of a dive bar, where nobody’s looking.

“To us,” I say.

“To us,” they echo.

And Cruz, because he’s Cruz, leans in and adds, “And to three tight asses, may they soon be acquainted with nice thick cocks.”

Dakota chokes on her Coke. Brady drops his head back to the table. Dante laughs until he’s wheezing.

I drain my whiskey and signal for another.

It’s going to be a long night. I wouldn’t change a second of it.

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