Page 5 of Oddly Fine

“’Cause they showed your big head on TV,” Franklin explained with a laugh.

“You’re watching a football game?” Beckett asked, completely flabbergasted. Franklin had played football in high school, so it wasn’t completely out of his wheelhouse, but, well—Beckett wasn’t sure what he’d expected Franklin to watch on TV these days. Maybe The Bachelor? Or a documentary about how paper is made. Something, anything, but it sure as hell would not be football.

“Is that so surprising? You’re the gay one,” Franklin said mockingly.

Beckett grunted in annoyance.

“Did you need something, Franklin? Or are you just trying to lower my rock bottom?” Beckett heard his brother chuckle.

“No such thing as lowering a rock bottom,” Franklin refuted with a snort.

“Hell, yes, there is. Every good rock bottom has a basement. Figured any halfway decent shrink would know that,” Beckett scoffed.

The cheerleaders were on the field now, entertaining the crowd while the teams headed to their respective locker rooms. Trading barbs with Franklin made Beckett miss the fallout from the home team’s scoring a field goal. Not that he really cared all that much, but still—

“I didn’t complete 13 years of higher education to be called a shrink, asshole.” Despite the annoyance in his tone, Franklin didn’t sound too terribly pissed off.

“And I didn’t survive years of deployments to war zones to be called an asshole by my shorter brother, but here we are,” Beckett replied mildly.

Loic snickered and raised his hand for a high five from Beckett before turning back to admire the prancing cheerleaders.

“We’re basically the same height—”

“Sure, if you’re not counting the four inches I have on you,” Beckett readily agreed, tongue-in-cheek. “And those extra three in my pants, obviously.”

At that, Beckett heard Hayes snort and he realized he’d forgotten that his boyfriend was still virtually sitting in his ear, listening in on everything.

“So—what’s the call for? Did you have an actual question, or were you just cockblocking the cheerleading show?”

“Is it cockblocking if you’re not interested?” Franklin asked derisively.

“Jesus! How is this so damned hard for you to grasp? I have a prime subscription to the sausage fest, bro, but I’m still down with squeezing buns.”

“Dude!” Loic scrunched up his face in disgust like Beckett’s euphemisms were too extreme, even for him.

Beckett shrugged, too busy arguing with his brother to be concerned about the possibility of offending Loic’s sensibilities.

“Classy,” Franklin responded, as if agreeing with Loic. “And, while we’re on the topic—”

“Of the sausage fest or squeezing buns?” Beckett interjected.

“Of being classy—” Franklin corrected.

“Never heard of it,” Beckett cut him off.

“Mom mandated that I call you to remind you of Jackson’s store opening.”

“Mandated? You saying she hired you, Frank?”

“You think I’ve enjoyed our conversation so far?”

If Beckett had not known Franklin so well, he might have fallen for his little act. He knew damned well that Franklin lived for chances to spar with him and emerge the victor. Beckett hated it.

“Probably,” Beckett responded honestly.

His brother suddenly went quiet. Beckett waited him out, refusing to give in first.

“Are you coming or not? Mother is quite concerned that you’ll be off—jumping out of a plane, or blowing shit up in an enemy base camp, or whatever the hell it is that you do these days—and end up forgetting that you’re expected at this shindig.”