Page 65 of Leading the Blind
“I hear you.” Bax was stroking his back, just random touches with no real rhythm. “I love the grill. Wait until we fire it up and test what it can do.”
“Hamburgers. Beer-can chicken.” Hell, they’d bought the smoker attachment for brisket.
They’d wait until Coke and Dillon came for that. Momma would be kinda insulted if they tried to outsmoke her and Jack. Maybe they’d do a turkey for her.
Bax chuckled. “Mmm. Borracho chicken. Yessir.”
“Hell, hot dogs are best on the grill, right? And we got us some good steaks.” Steaks and baked potatoes were the bomb.
“We even got that good salt.” He could hear the pride in Bax’s voice, and he liked to think it was for him. He was eating steak. That was like a huge hill on the learning curve.
It was crazy, the shit he’d never thought was going to be hard. Then again, some stuff was easier than he’d ever expected.
Staying on a bull. It was the ‘get off’ that was deadly.
“Smoke’s coming out of your ears, Mini.” Bax squeezed him tight. “You ready to get up? It’s still dark outside.”
“No. No, just…can we play some music on the phones? I’m not used to these sounds.” And he was tired. Really, genuinely tired.
“Good idea.” Bax rolled away from him, and soon enough, the Midland radio thing he liked so much on the streaming service was playing.
Then he was held in Bax’s arms, and it was okay. He had a place in the world, and it was right here. Bax was solid when everything made him dizzy, and that was good enough for Jason.
He rested his head on Bax’s chest, listening to Bax’s heartbeat, to the steady breathing as Bax dozed off again.
He could do this. He could.Please God, let me be okay.
Chapter Eighteen
Bax straightened up the quilt on the back of the couch, making sure it looked nice.
Jason didn’t care, but Coke and Dillon would be there in twenty, and Dillon was, like, a decorating guru or something. He liked shit to look decent.
“You got the ice chest all set up, Mini?” he called. He’d set Jason to getting the cooler filled with ice and Cokes and beer—and getting cups and all set out on the deck.
Lord knew they had everything they could ever need or want, save for the dogs, after Momma and Jack had come through like a whirlwind. Even Dillon’s special-order adjustable bed was in the guest suite.
Momma had brought not one, but two trailers full of shit. Kitchen stuff—from a toaster oven to cast iron to pot holders and ten thousand kitchen towels. An iron, ironing board, dressers and end tables, everything from Jason’s old room, tools and shit from the barn at the house, a huge roll-top desk that she’d been saving, a map case that had come down from Jason’s Daddy’s family and six—count ‘em—sixrocking chairs for the front porch.
She’d had a ball.
He and Jack had fetched and carried for two days, and Momma had helped Jason set up the porches so he could get around, making sure everything had a place. They hadn’t even fought about it.
“I got it,” Jason hollered back. “We got any snacks?”
“Shit yes.” Not that Dillon and Gramps wouldn’t come loaded for bear. They were damn near as bad as Momma. “We got sausage balls warmed up, them roll-up deals and good nachos.”
Jase only wanted queso when it was just them together, so they could laugh about the drips.
“Finger food.” He heard Jason fumble at the door for a second, and he wanted to go help so bad, but he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed. Jason needed to learn it himself, and he was doing great with the system of ropes. The balcony and the porch were shored up, and there were sturdy gates at the tops of all the stairs, just in case.
“Hey, Gramps, y’all found us!”
“We did. Lord have mercy, son. This place is like a beach palace.” Coke’s heavy boot treads rang on the floors and Bax went to join them.
“Hey, Coke. Dillon.”
“Hey, Andy, Great bones on this place! And the view! You did good.” Dillon winked at him and handed him a six-pack. “We brought brisket and all the fixin’s.”
