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Flynn and I shared a single concerned glance before running in that direction.
Alden jumped to his feet. “You. Are. Out!” He pointed an accusing finger down at Redmond, who was twice as tall and broad as Alden but fortunately way calmer. Alden threw both hands in the air victoriously. “Out, out, out!”
Flynn jogged over and wrapped a restraining arm around his brother just as I hurried over to help Redmond up.
“Not sure what you’re celebrating. We lost, Alden,” Flynn said.
“Don’t care,” Alden said cheerfully, eyes still on Redmond. “Iwon.”
Alden Honeycutt reminded me of my mother sometimes, though I was pretty sure neither of them would appreciate that comparison.
Redmond snorted and began dusting himself off.
“So, Firecracker…” I rolled up and down on the balls of my feet. “I got your message this morning. Thanks so much for the mead, by the way. I hadn’t been planning to play today, but you inspired me.”
Flynn tightened his arm around Alden. “Not now, JT.”
“What message?” Alden demanded, eyes stormy. He looked from me to Flynn and back. “What mead?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Flynn soothed.
“I’m thinking you might have been wrong about which of us needed to get used to losing, though,” I mused, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. “Because as far as I can tell…”
“Not. Now. JT,” Flynn insisted, this time meeting my eyes. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that no one likes a gloater?”
I wasn’t sure anyone had ever told Patricia that, so she for sure had not taught me.
“If not now, when?” I persisted. “No bullshit, Flynn, I want to talk to you about this. Find terms that will work for you. Please.”
Flynn opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Flynn saidno.” Alden was shorter and thinner than Flynn but didn’t hesitate to step in front of him defensively. “Leave him alone.” He shot a scathing up-down glance at Redmond. “Allof you Wellbridges, just leave us alone.”
Flynn draped an arm over Alden’s shoulder again. “Come on, Runway. Let’s go.”
Flynn shot me a look that was ninety percent annoyance and ten percent apology before dragging Alden off, saying something about walking to the Tavern to cool down.
I may have stood and watched them walk away.
Belatedly, I turned toward Redmond. He was staring after the Honeycutt brothers also. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Redmond ruffled his hair, shaking off the dust. “Fine.”
“Did you do something to piss Alden off?”
“Other than being a Wellbridge?” He shrugged.
But before I could question him further, Redmond spotted his girlfriend and his mother waving from the sidelines and lifted his hand in a wave.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Awesome game, JT. We have to catch up soon, okay?” He began walking away backward and shot me the warm, charming heartbreaker smile that my aunt Louise used to claim made Redmond a natural politician. “Take the train down from New York to DC or something. I’ll show you around.”
“Yeah, okay. Call me—”
“Jonathan!Jonnnnnathannnn!” my mother cried from the stands behind me.
Every instinct cried out for me to ignore her and follow Flynn back to the Tavern, to push the tiny bit of headway I felt like I’d made. Instead, I sighed and turned around.
My mother was on her feet, waving like I might not see her in her lime-green designer short set, while my father was head down in his phone, and Reagan sat forlornly beside a chattering, Gucci-clad Brantleigh Pennington. Poor Reagan looked like he wished he were anywhere else on Earth.
