Page 55 of Special Delivery

The theory doesn’t fully make sense, but it’s the only one I currently have.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ryan

My hand lifts to knock on Parker’s door, but the door snaps open at the same time.

“Look at this tan motherfucker,” he says, pulling me into a man-hug. We didn’t use to hug much, but ever since his daughter became old enough to notice how her aunt always hugs her friends while Daddy doesn’t, that changed.

“Uncle Ryan,” Chrissy screams, running into a hug.

“Did you get taller while I was away?”

She giggles while I ruffle her hair. Unlike her dad’s dark brown shade, hers is a honey blonde. She has his eyes, though, sharing the same tint of chocolate brown. She wears her favorite light blue sweatsuit, one that is already getting short at the sleeves, with how fast she’s growing.

“No, silly. You’ve only been away for a week.”

“Well, it sure seems like you did. Who did you get all dressed up for? Me?”

Once again, she falls into a fit of giggles. No wonder I love hanging out with her, she does great things for my self-esteem.

“Auntie Joy is picking me up for a sleepover. You owe me one, by the way.” She points a stern finger at me.

“I know, I know.” I lift my hands in surrender. “How about next time you come, you stay the whole weekend?”

She taps her chin with her finger, considering my offer. “Will we do something fun?”

“Pfft. What do you think?”

“Fine.” She reaches out her hand and I shake it, shaking my head with a smile.

“Go grab your bag, Princess. Auntie will be here any second now,” Parker says.

“Have fun,” I say after her as she rushes up the stairs, and I head toward Parker’s kitchen.

Their house is something between a bachelor pad and a cozy home. Colorful pillows adorn the dark gray sectional, family photos decorating the stand underneath the mammoth wall-mounted TV. I proceed to the kitchen, finding a large, state-of-the-art fridge covered in drawings and Wes sitting on a bar stool at the white quartz kitchen island.

“Hi, man. How was the trip?” He fixes his glasses before hugging me, too. His white polo is ironed to perfection, and he already has the book lined neatly in front of him.

“It was great.” I grab myself a soda from the fridge, something I’ve done in Parker’s house since I was fourteen, and sit next to Wes.

The looks he gives me is puzzled. “Great? I thought you were dreading it.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out okay.” I downplay the answer.

Wes has already sniffed out something fishy. Luckily, he doesn’t probe. Instead, he rolls his lips and takes a sip of his own drink.

Parker joins us in a minute, grabbing a beer from the same fridge. He doesn’t drink when Chrissy is home, so it must mean she left. The cap of the bottle clinks on the counter as he leans on it, crossing one leg over the other.

“Gentlemen, ready for the first meeting of PBC?” he asks with a smug smirk on his lips.

“God, I hope so,” I mutter, and a laugh escapes Wes.

“You can head into the living room, and I’ll join you in a second.”

Wes and I share a look before grabbing our soda cans and getting up. We should have taken something stronger to drink.

“What is he doing?” Wes asks, peeking back into the kitchen.