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Slate finally looked at him. “What? I didn’t think you wanted me to do that.”
“It was inevitable.” Luke shrugged. “As soon as I realized that, I stopped worrying about it.” He stuffed another bite of cinnamon roll in his mouth. After he finished chewing and swallowing, he added, “The boys and I put a friendly wager on when you’d kiss her. Nate said yesterday. I said your birthday, but Dallas and Ted wanted that day too. So we narrowed it down by time. I said before noon. Ted took after nine p.m., because he knew you guys were going out tonight. Dallas said sometime in the afternoon—maybe after you get the puppy and before the end of the date.”
Luke grinned even wider. “I won. So thanks, friend.” He slapped Slate’s shoulder with laughter dancing in his eyes.
“You bet on when I’d kiss her?”
“I get extra if she kissed you,” Luke said. “So? Did you kiss her, or did she kiss you?”
“I’m not even answering that,” Slate said, huffing as he turned toward the house. “I need to get my tool belt and my gloves.” He walked away, bristling at Luke’s chuckles.
“I’m going to take that as she kissed you,” he called after him.
“You’re wrong,” Slate said, not even deigning to turn and face him. “Too bad, Luke. Nothing extra for you.” He nearly yanked the door off its hinges he pulled on it so hard, but he didn’t care.
His friends had bet on when he’d kiss Jill? Not only that, they’d bet if she’d kiss him. How humiliating. He went into his bedroom to get his equipment, and he paused, his anger simmering. Finally deciding, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to the group.
You guys are so annoying, he typed.I’ve been nothing but supportive of all of you and your relationships and you bet against me?
He wanted to say how pinched his heart felt in his chest, but he couldn’t find the words. He sent the text, hoping they’d be able to feel the hurt in his text.
His breathing increased until his chest was rising and falling almost violently, and he found he couldn’t leave his bedroom. The door stood open, and he heard Luke coming before he appeared in the doorway, his phone at his ear.
“Yeah,” he said. “He’s upset.”
Slate didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. This birthday had started so great, and now he just felt…small and insignificant. “Leave me alone,” he said, stepping toward the door. Luke fell back, and Slate closed the door in his stunned face. He heard him say something on the other side of the door, but the wood garbled the words.
Slate turned around and pressed his back into the door. He hated overreacting, and he hated how his feelings were so raw now that he wasn’t numb all the time. That had been the hardest adjustment once the drugs had been physically cleared from his system. The emotional aftermath was still too much for him sometimes.
If he just kept breathing, he could contain the emotions, stuffing them back down where he could manage them and where they couldn’t injure him.
“Slate,” Luke said through the door. “I’m sorry. It was just innocent fun.”
“Yeah,” Ted said. “We didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” He knocked, his big bear paw hands recognizable even through sound.
Slate especially didn’t want to face them right now. He closed his eyes, which burned so badly.Please just let them go away, he thought. At the same time, he didn’t want to be alone. He’d counted his role in the group in River Bay as one of the biggest blessings of his life. If he hadn’t had Nate, Ted, Dallas, and Luke, he’d be even more lost than he was right now.
They’d provided him with support and friendship at a crucial time of his life, and he hoped he’d done the same for them.
“Slate,” Nate said through the door. “I’m sorry. Please open the door.”
It wasn’t locked, but none of them had tried to open it. They respected him and his privacy, something none of them had had in prison. Living in a dormitory with fifteen other men didn’t allow for many private conversations.
Slate’s phone rang, and as he still held it in his hand, he looked down at it. Dallas’s name sat on the screen. Slate wouldn’t be able to ignore them, or avoid them, and he found he didn’t want to.
They were all trying to apologize, and he should let them. He swiped on the call and tapped the speaker button.
“Slate?” Dallas said.
“Yeah.” Slate turned and opened the door.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry,” Dallas said.
Slate faced Luke, Ted, and Nate, all of them looking very vulnerable and apologetic too. His chest heaved again, because he hated making other people feel bad. A quote his father had sent him a couple of days ago ran through his mind.It costs nothing to be kind.
“Don’t be sorry,” Slate said. “I’m oversensitive sometimes. It’s fine.”
“It’s obviously not fine,” Nate said, glancing at the others. He leaned forward and said louder, “I would’ve been mad if I found out my friends were betting against me too.”
