Chapter 2
Dunk
Two dogs barked and snarled outside Dunk McCoy’s window.
He twitched, right leg kicking out as if he were a dog, too, dreaming.
“Cookie!” one of the dog owners shrieked.
Dunk’s leg kicked out again, only this time he lost his precarious balance on the edge of his bed. He thudded onto his floor in a tangle of sweaty sheets and one of his mother’s afghans. Waking up fully, he registered the flickers of pain in his elbow and hip where he’d hit the floor as he let his body go boneless, groaning.
But those flickers of pain were negligible, really, because his brain was throbbing horrendously like his thumb had that time he’d hammered it instead of the head of a nail by accident. His tongue was thick and, even though he had absolutely no recollection of either thing, tasted like the unmistakable combination of tequila and puke.
“Holy shit, I’m dying,” he wailed.
It was all Leda’s fault, like all of his worst physical pain, except for the time he blew out his ACL getting tackled when he was twenty-two.
As he clawed to his feet and staggered to the bathroom, he decided this was the worst hangover he’d had in years. It was maybe only second to the Halloween hangover of ‘03, the weekend of his seventeenth birthday, after Margot Tremmel cheated on him.
The only upside, he thought as he swallowed some aspirin and got into his shower, washing sluggishly with his eyes closed, was that this was a happy hangover.
Last night had been Leda’s wedding, and he’d never been prouder of one of his best friends than when she plowed her way through her vows, in defiance of the tears glistening in her eyes.
Although, he only remembered the day up to sometime during the reception. Squinting, he tried to piece it all together. He remembered the fucking fantastic duck thing he’d gotten for dinner, the delicious Irish whisky Jamie’s father had shared with him and Jesse, four or five of the toasts, and dancing with Leda and his mom and Daniela Torres.
After that, it got hazy. He thought there had been tequila splashing over the back of his hand and one of Chase’s heels stabbing him in the shin accidentally, and he remembered his mom taking off his bow tie before she and his stepdad took off.
Somehow, he’d gotten home.
He moved as fast as his sad body would allow to look out his window. He saw with relief that his truck wasn’t parked, which meant someone had brought him home, or he’d walked the several miles from Wild Harts.
And then he’d had an awesome dream.
It was possibly the best sex dream he had ever had, he decided as he dragged on boxer briefs, sweatpants, and an MHS Football tee shirt.
He actually blushed now, even though all he really remembered about the dream was how pleasure had shuddered through him head to toe.
“Way to get some last night, dream-me,” he congratulated himself.
Then he went out of his garden apartment, up three stairs, and walked barefoot around the house and up onto the back porch, tripping only once on a frisbee.
His mom, Shelly, looked up from crocheting and observed dryly, “You’re alive.”
“I wish I were dead,” he mumbled, collapsing into the chair across from her. He pressed his clammy forehead against the cool plastic table.
Shelly chuckled and then he felt her fingers ghost over his hair and press gently against his temples. “You’re so melodramatic when you’re hung over,” she teased. “Do you want some bacon and eggs?”
“Can I have some coffee too?” he begged, dragging open one eye to look up at her.
“Will you change the oil in the CR-V?” she countered.
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
With another chuckle, she put aside her crocheting and went inside.
Dunk stayed where he was, feeling pretty proud of himself for not whimpering every time his pulse beat as loudly as a drum inside his skull.
Eventually Shelly came back with a plate, her chocolate Labrador Fudgesicle wriggling outside too. Fudgesicle sprawled out over Dunk’s feet, his fur soft against the tops of Dunk’s feet, while Dunk ate.
“Did you see how happy Seth and Aden were last night?” she sighed.
“They looked almost as happy as me,” Dunk said with a smile.
Aden, Leda, and Seth Riveau were his oldest, best friends. Dunk was thrilled that Leda had found a man who made her happy, who made her a better person. And he was also proud because he’d played a key role in her and Jamie’s love story—Aden and Chase’s love story too, for that matter.
“Just as proud a brother as Seth and Aden,” his mom said indulgently. “I’m surprised y’all didn’t burst into tears when they left the reception.”
If Dunk’s throat tightened up a bit—and not from nausea—then it was no one’s business but his own. He was thirty; things were changing for everyone, whether it was getting married or starting to want kids or growing serious about their careers. Leda had just married Jamie and Aden was living with Chase now, and he was so happy for them, but now they spent less time out. And he needed as many friends as possible out with him; they smacked him on the back of the head before he said something completely dumb.
“We might’ve cried,” Dunk admitted with a smile. “I don’t recall.”
“Do you recall that you’re going to Smokin’ the Competition tonight?”
Dunk shook his heavy head, which was starting to clear up the tiniest bit thanks to the food and coffee. “I am?”
Shelly laughed and told him, “Seth and Chase both told me so that I’d make sure you knew. Apparently your cell ended up in the chocolate fountain and is dead. Y’all decided BBQ was in order for tonight.”
“What would I do without you?” Dunk asked, then sighed as he put down his fork. “Okay, I feel alive for real now. Thanks, Mama, that was so good. Thanks for telling me about dinner, too. I don’t know why we’re having dinner tonight though.”
“Probably a post-mortem,” she guessed. “I saw some fun stuff.”
Intrigued, Dunk’s eyebrows popped up. “Like what?”
“Well…” she said, propping her chin on her hand and grinning.
Dunk mirrored her pose and listened intently as she recounted her observations from the wedding. She was friendly and helpful, and between her loud, raucous laugh and the twinkle in her eyes that she’d gifted to Dunk, everyone always talked to her. Whatever Dunk had missed once he’d gotten too drunk to retain, his mom had caught.
With every anecdote, Dunk’s hangover melted away, leaving him still a little sad, but on the whole, as happy and light-hearted as ever. After all, Leda deserved the love of a guy like Jamie. Life wouldn’t be the same now, but if he’d learned how to adapt to college, without all of his lifelong friends, well, he could damn well adapt to this too.
As he and his mom were just starting to meander on over into other gossip, his stepdad, Terrence, came home from work. He winked at Dunk as he jogged up the stairs and swept Shelly into his arms.
“Missed you,” he mumbled, his hat knocked off his head.
“See y’all later,” Dunk said cheerfully, feeling well enough now to bound up and head for his recliner.
As he rounded the corner, his mom’s laughter floating on the air, he whistled for Fudgesicle, bringing him along to watch some ESPN Classic.
He stayed sacked out in his recliner, perfectly molded to his ass and back, until it was time to haul himself up out of it and go over to Smokin’ the Competition.
“Hey, Dunk,” the hostess chirped as he came in.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said as he strolled past, “I see my gang’s all here.”
Everyone looked tired but pleased as he joined them.
Only Aden was still looking like he’d rather be hugging a toilet than sitting up waiting to order BBQ. Chase was leaned up head to head with Seth, swiping her thumb over and over his cell phone screen, scanning through the pictures he’d taken. Munn and Jesse were sprawled out in their chairs, Munn wondering how a just-married, hung over couple could survive the cross-country flight to California for their honeymoon. Jack held the menu, perusing it as if it were a concert brochure for an opera at the Kennedy Center, classy as always.
Dunk blew out a breath of pure satisfaction and straddled a chair backwards.
“And how hung over are you today?” Jack murmured.
“Like a three maybe, now,” he replied.
“Shelly cooked for you, didn’t she?” Seth said with a groan of jealousy.
“If you’d crashed on my couch, she would’ve cooked for you too,” Dunk pointed out.
Seth laughed and tipped his head to one side. “No, thanks. Three’s a crowd.”
“What?” Dunk asked blankly.
When Munn reached over and pressed his thumb into the side of Dunk’s neck, he flinched because, shit, that actually hurt.
“What the hell—?”
“Mighty nice hickey you’ve got there,” Munn said.
Dunk clapped a hand over his neck and immediately began to protest, “There wasn’t anyone in my bed this morning, I just had this fantastic…”
He trailed off and then his eyes bugged out as flashes of his best sex dream ever came back to him, like teeth scoring his neck.
“There’s really a hickey? It’s really a hickey, I mean? Not just a bruise?”
Aden snorted, proving that he was alive behind his bleary expression.
“It’s definitely a hickey.” Jesse promised sardonically.
“Did you black out last night?” Munn asked.
“I—kind of, I thought it was just a perfect dream,” he half-babbled. “Holy shit, if even a quarter of what I remember from my not-a-dream was real—”
Chase burst into peals of laughter at that.
He took a second out of his excited revelation to send a quick grin her way. But then his mind snapped back to the flashes of the dream—memory, damn—from last night, like a blurry home video or censored news footage. It was oddly similar to the way he remembered the best plays he’d ever made while playing football, all movement and the impression of working hard to breathe. Except, this memory was sexy as hell.
“I have to find this woman,” he declared.
“To apologize for forgetting you actually had sex with her?” Chase snickered.
“No,” he denied hotly. “I just said, it was the best sex ever. I have to find her.”
Jack patted Dunk’s shoulder, face soft with condescension. “How romantic.”
“It’s not every day you have perfect sex, Jack!” Dunk practically bellowed.
With a giggle, Chase pursed her lips and declared solemnly, “You have to find the girl. She probably thinks you don’t find her attractive. She’s probably wondering if you’re in love with someone else, or gay!”
“If I was in love with someone,” Dunk said, cracking his knuckles, “don’t you think you’d have figured it out by now? You’re too sharp to miss that.” He offered them all his very best pathetic puppy dog expression and begged, “Come on, help a guy out.”
“Chase does have the guest list,” Aden began slowly. “You think you’re Prince Charming?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned, and it was a little evil. “Let’s send you on a quest. But I’m looking at the list and then giving you the potential Cinderellas.”
Dunk screwed up his face while the others snickered.
Seth commented serenely, “Payback’s a bitch, McCoy.”
Dunk had stolen Chase’s rental car keys so that she couldn’t leave town—but to help Aden face up to his feelings for Chase and tell her before she left town. And he had been a royal fucking ass to Leda last New Year’s—but to create a reason for Leda and Jamie to be alone together so that they’d get a chance to realize how good they’d be together.
“Come on, I’ve gotten punched and tackled like ten times as payback!”
“You want to find this perfect sex Cinderella?” Aden demanded. “Then you’re going to go through me. You go where I say, when I say, and see if you find…”
“The vagina that fits your penis perfectly,” Jesse suggested gleefully.
Dunk’s head thunked on the table, the fork laying there stabbing him in the forehead, and muttered, aiming for defiant and confident, “Let’s do this. I want to find this girl, I don’t care how dumb y’all think I am. If women don’t take me seriously, I might as well be gay anyway.”
Jesse, who was gay, laughed her ass off.