Page 60 of Changing Lanes

Coty had this dream of me and Marc buying the properties surrounding his so we could all live close to each other. Unfortunately, some big shot snatched up all the lots but the one Coty brought me to today. Pretty sure that’s why we’re here now. Dude’s relentless. But if that’s really the plan, then Marc will get first pick, not because he’s ready to settle down, but because I’d never be the greedy one to split us up.

Let that shit hang over his head for the rest of his life.

Plus, fun Uncle Beckett could couch surf like nobody’s business. Marc’s way too good of a person to make sleep on a couch which is exactly why he deserves the property over me.

Although, if Coty got his wish, this location would be perfect for me. I could look out over my boys and their lives and know that all is well. That everyone is exactly where they’re supposed to be.

I like that idea.

I like it too much.

“How’s married life by the way?” I nod at the newly finished house in the distance, the one we had to keep from Angie for almost a year while Coty had it built in secret. Worst year ever. I hate keeping secrets. Well, good ones anyway. “Ready to move back yet?”

Coty, atop his matte black R6, adjusts his gloves, chuckling. “As much as I miss living with you guys, I never want to be without Angela again.” Sucker.

Even though I give him a hard time, Coty’s one of the best people out there. Period. He’s worked his ass off to be the opposite of what he was shown growing up. His dad is what I refer to as a shitbag. He sleeps with his students—college age students—while he’s…wait for it…married.

Yeah, guy’s a total douchebag and I pretty much hate him. We all do. We took a vote and everything. That’s one thing we all agree on, hands down, no matter what, set in stone with a layer of shiny epoxy over the top. Once you’re taken, like for real taken, it’s fucking end game.

Basically, thou shall not commit fuckery. Ever.

And Coty’s dad is a wasteland of fuckery. A wasteland with only one remaining resident who refuses to leave—Coty’s mom.

Sometimes I wonder if my dad knew about my own mom’s affair before she took off and just did the same thing Coty’s mom did. Just stuck it out.

I hope not.

“I didn’t really think my old room was up for grabs anyway.” His eyes widen with emphasis. “She show up yet?”

I bob my head. “Yeah, she’s back. Don’t know for how long but she was there today when I left.”

Which is kinda weird in itself since I never see her before I leave for work. She gets out later, once I’m already at the shop. What’s that about?

“Marc said she works crazy hours. What does she do again?”

“She hasn’t really said but I dropped her off at an old folks’ home or some shit once.”

“Have you asked her?”

What the fuck? He’s the second person today to give me shit about asking Paige personal questions. Won’t the girl just tell me when she feels like it? Why do I have to go around digging into her business?

Obnoxious laughter, complete with snorting like a hopped up pig, has me side-eyeing my best friend.

“You don’t know how to pursue a girl, do you? Like ‘can I hold your hand, I want to date you’ pursue her.”

The fuck? “Who said I wanted to hold her hand and date her?”

The girl has made her place at the apartment—I guess—and yeah, she’s taken up residence in my mind. Hell, she’s even made an impression on my body that just won’t quit but that’s it. I mean, I missed Paige but not enough to date her.

I just like knowing she’s safe. And not in some other joker’s arms. But that’s my gentlemanly nature shining through. I deserve a fucking medal, not a relationship.

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t exactly Mr. Chatterbox when neighbor girl showed up.” In fact, he barely spoke at all—to any of us. He was wound tighter than a steering wheel running low on steering fluid.

“Are we talking soul mates now?”

“Soul mate, huh? Does Angie know that?”

Coty sobers, pinning me with a look to say flatly, “She knows.”