More Than Enough
Page 29

I shower and change quickly, leaving them outside to clean up their mess, which they do without protest. “You fucking jerks!” I call out, stepping out from the back door. Cam stifles his laugh. “It was funny, asshole. Come on. If it were one of us you’d claim that Op. Mayhem genius.”
“Dude,” Logan whispers, his smile so wide and so smug it takes everything in me not to punch him. “Who’s that smoking hot chick I saw leave your house this morning?”
“Who? Sydney? That’s my brother’s girl.” I smirk. “And I’ll be sure to tell Amanda you said that.”
Instantly, his smile drops. “Don’t you dare.”
“She’d put your balls in a vice,” Jake says.
“Or worse,” Cameron chimes in. “She won’t touch them ever again.”
“Jesus Christ,” Logan mumbles, rubbing his face. “Don’t talk shit like that. You’ll jinx me.” He looks at me with fear clear in his eyes. “Seriously, D. Don’t fucking tell her I said anything.”
Cam chuckles while he taps away at his phone.
“It’ll cost you,” I tell Logan.
“Name the price.”
“Give me time.”
“Fine!”
Jake shakes his head. “It blows my fucking mind we’re all friends.”
“No shit,” I murmur.
Logan’s phone sounds. “This better not be her,” he says, his eyes fixed on Cameron whose phone’s still in his hand, smiling like the Cheshire cat. Logan taps his screen a few times, his brow bunching more with each passing second. Then his gaze snaps to Cam again. “Did you get a strap-on sent to my house?”
Cam shrugs and shouts loud enough to be heard over Jake’s and my laughter. “You know… just in case you ever feel like being a man again.”
* * *
We head out, in my truck, over to the batting cages while we wait for the girls to arrive. But not before I leave something for Riley at her doorstep.
I don’t know why we chose to go to the cages considering I can’t even bat. Or pitch. Not that any of us would since we’re with Jake. We end up sitting at a table talking shit and watching people strike out.
Cameron drops enough food to feed a small village on the table and sits down opposite me. “You know we’re grilling at my house, right?” I tell him.
He nods and shoves half a hot dog in his mouth. Then he tries to speak, but with a mouthful of food it’s kind of impossible to understand him. He finishes chewing and makes his attempt to swallow look like the hardest thing in the world. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth on his forearm and says, “Lucy’s gone all wifey and has been attempting to cook every night. And every night it tastes like balls. Side note: I fucking hate Pinterest.”
“Me too. Her and Amanda share some fucking board and the other night we had a single piece of ravioli—”
“Raviolo,” Cam interrupts.
“What?” Logan snaps.
“Ravioli is plural. Raviolo is singular. One giant piece of pasta: Raviolo.”
We stare at him, unblinking.
He throws the hotdog wrapper on the table. “Fuck you, Pinterest!”
Jake laughs. “So what you’re saying is that her cooking is bad?”
“I’m not talking bad-but-still-edible,” Cam responds. “I’m talking, I-want-to-puke-as-soon-as-it-hits-my-tongue type bad. Let’s just say I’ve mastered the art of optical illusions—food editing. I’m fucking hungry, man. Like, all the time.”
Logan goes to pick at the fries on the table but Cam shoos his hand away, then spreads his arms around the food and brings them all closer to him. “I’ve had Amanda’s cooking,” he tells Logan. “You can afford to starve. I can’t.”
Jake chimes in. “Neither of you cook your own meals?”
Cam answers first. “I try to. Hell, I try to do anything as long as it doesn’t mean eating ball-sweat-flavored raviolo but she’s on these hormone meds to regulate her period or something and she’s crazy. As in, more crazy than normal.”
“You married her,” I joke.
“And I wouldn’t take it back, D,” he says, throwing a handful of fries in his mouth. “Not for a fucking second.”
“I cook!” Logan announces, sticking his chest out. “I’m beast-mode with the ramen noodles.”
“Beast mode?” I ask.
Jake ignores me. “Kayla cooks for me. She has this weekly plan or something. Certain days she makes me carb-load for training and shit. It’s fucking annoying.”
“You love it, Jakey. Don’t deny it,” Cam says.
I laugh and look over at Jake. His cheeks are redder than they were a minute ago, and his gaze is lowered at the phone in his hand. He’s most likely messaging his girl about how much he loves and appreciates her. Seeing it makes me grab my phone from my pocket and text Riley.
Dylan: Hello. Do you cook?
Riley: Hello back. Where are you?
Dylan: Battingxcages witg thenboys.
Riley: And you’re texting me? Surely that’s breaking bro-code…
Dylan: Fuxk bro-code. I miss yiu.
Riley: :D :D :D
Dylan: wtf is that?
Riley: You said wtf! My boy is growing up so fast.
I laugh to myself.
Dylan: Chexk yourxdoorstep. I ledt you somwthinf.
Riley: And you were doing so well! Go be with your friends! I’ll be here when you get done! :D :D :D
Dylan: :d?
Riley: GO!
Dylan: Wait. Still no drink?
Riley: Not a drop!
I put the phone away and look back up to see three sets of eyes watching me. “What?”
Logan sighs and bats his eyelashes, then sits his chin on the back of his hand. With a high-pitched voice, he croons. “Soooo… who are you textiiiiing?”
Cam laughs. Jake doesn’t. He just continues to watch me with a slight smile.
“Riley.”
Logan asks, his voice back to normal, “Who’s Riley?”
I keep my eyes on Jake, sending a silent message. “Just a friend.”

Jake gets a call from Micky telling him they’re close to my house so we wait for Cameron to finish all the food and head back. Amanda’s car’s parked on the street when we pull up and her, Lucy, and Micky are standing around it, holding up signs that say Welcome Home and We Missed You and Team Silence. “What the hell is Team Silence?” I ask Jake as I park in the garage and get out.
He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the cheering starts and the girls charge me all at once.
“Whoa!” Jake stands in front of me, his hands up. “His shoulder! Jeez, I told you guys about this.”
“Sorry.” Micky laughs, slowing down just in time. “We got a little excited.”
Jake steps to the side allowing each of the girls in for a hug and a few words.
“The gang’s all together again,” Lucy squeals, her arms around her husband. We all ignore the fact that, technically, she’s wrong, because for as far back as I could remember the gang always included Heidi. Considering how we left things—at a hotel room in Vegas with me telling her to get the fuck out and that I never wanted to see her again—it would be insane of her to even attempt it.