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“I need to talk to Becks first.”

Pop laughed. “Clearly you don’t know your brother if you’re asking him for advice on how to talk to Coury.”

“I know better than to ask him that.” He bumped shoulders with his grandfather. “Coury is his best friend. If Coury and I start dating, Beckett won’t be happy finding out from someone else. I need to tell him first.”

“I stand corrected,” Pop said. “You do know Beckett.”

It was the right decision, but Liam didn’t know which talk he dreaded more.

Chapter Thirteen

Coury

Coury had driven by the Elk Lodge a million times but never been inside. He didn’t know you could rent the place for parties.

Beckett’s family obviously did.

The party room wasn’t fancy, but it worked for the Wright Family party. Plenty of tables where people could eat, lots of open space to congregate and talk, and easy access to outdoors if you needed a break.

Growing up, Coury had been to dozens of Wright family events; there weren’t many people in the room he didn’t know. Most recognized him, and he spent a bit of time being social and polite. Time he’d hoped to use to corner Beckett and talk to him about Liam.

Telling him was the right thing to do. If Coury and Liam dated, it would change his relationship with Beckett.

Becks had always been Coury’s go-to person when he had relationship issues. He’d spent hours talking about his girlfriends, and to a lesser—but significant—degree, his boyfriends, too. No way could he have those conversations if he dated Liam. Cutting Beckett out would alter their relationship. He just didn’t know if it would destroy seventeen years of friendship.

His stomach crunched as he wound his way toward Beckett under glittering streamers near the back wall.

Getting his friend alone had been harder than he thought. The party was in his honor, and Beckett had an obligation to be social. He could have worked with Beckett’s family obligations. The bigger problem was Liam.

Every time Coury thought he had an opening, Liam beat him to Beckett’s side. He and Liam would look at each other and then the three of them would end up chatting about something trivial.

He was about to give up and talk to him the next day, when Beckett grabbed him by the arm, asking to be saved. Coury saw Liam start toward his brother, then stop when Beckett tugged Coury toward the bar.

Coury got two beers and they headed for the back patio. No one wanted to brave the cold, so they had privacy.

They tapped bottles and Coury’s heart raced as he used the few seconds taking a drink bought him.

“Having fun?” he asked.

Beckett smiled and shrugged. “I mean, this is my family and I love them, but there are better ways to have fun on my twenty-second birthday.”

“Yeah, but you can do those any week. Getting the family together is hard. Be glad they could make it.” He stalled. He really didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“True.” Beckett raised his bottle and took another swig.

“I have a serious question to ask.” His pulse ticked wildly as he met his best friend’s eye. “How would you feel if Liam and I were to go out?”

Beckett sprayed out his ill-timed sip of beer. “You and Liam.”

Coury nodded.

“Dinosaur-loving-nerd Liam? Can’t-throw-a-ball Liam? My-little-brother Liam?”

“Yes, yes, and”—he drew in a breath and let it out steadily—“yes.”

“When did this happen?”

“It hasn’t. Yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

Beckett stared at him, incredulous. Speechless.

Coury’s grip on his beer was sweaty. “We’ve been hanging out. I like him.”

“Are you asking me to find out if he likes you?” Beckett’s brow furrowed.

“I already suspect how he feels.”

Beckett stared hard at his beer.

Coury didn’t need words to know Beckett was struggling with the idea.

They both took a drink. Beckett was processing the information, and a lifetime together taught Coury to let his best friend dictate the pace. Finally, Beckett blew out a breath.

“I don’t know what to say, C-man. It’s out of left field.”

“I know. It sort of happened after we’d hung out a few times. Then he kissed me—”

“He kissed you?” Beckett grimaced. “Like, really kissed you?”

Coury rubbed his nape. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Makes two of us, bro.” Beckett huffed out a stunted laugh.

“I’m not asking for permission. That’s Liam’s decision.”

Beckett didn’t react.

His gut dropped to his knees and his voice came out strained from holding back his disappointment. “But I’m not sure what I’ll do if you’re not cool with it. We have too much history for me to not care what you say.”

A startled laugh—not unkind but bewildered. “You want my blessing. Like I’m the fucking Pope.”

“I’m sure the Pope loves having ‘fucking’ precede his name.”

Humor had been their go-to for years, but it didn’t entirely defuse things.

“Wow,” Beckett said after nearly draining his bottle. “I won’t tell you what to do, C-man. Part of me wants to say, hell yeah. Squirt would be the luckiest fucking guy in the world to date you.” Beckett met his eyes seriously. “But what about baseball?”

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