Chapter 38 – Larson
I’m at Ramsey Bradford’s house watching his band practice in his garage.
Ramsey is Jensen’s and Harlow’s brother— we were all three in the SEALs together— and he plays in a band that he met through friends of ours at Louie’s and another bar we sometimes go to, Billy’s Long Bar. For all of the many times they make fun of Jensen and me for being in a motorcycle club, Ramsey and Harlow sure do like to hang out at biker bars a lot. Go fucking figure.
Ramsey had played the guitar and sung for a while but it’s only fairly recently that he has been part of a band. I have to admit though, for a pretty new band, they’re pretty fucking good.
In fact, I enjoy Ramsey’s band so much that I often stop by to hang out and listen to them jam. Especially on days like today, when I’m trying to forget about other fucking things that are weighing heavy on my mind. Today, another of their band members, Blaze, is jamming out on bass guitar and it sounds fucking sick.
“Are you coming to Thanksgiving at Jensen and Riley’s?” Ramsey asks, in between sets. “Or no, because Brynn’s going to be there?”
Leave it to Ramsey to bring up Brynn— the very person I’m here trying to forget about. But my ears—and my cock— perk up at the sound of her name.
Try as I might, I just can’t seem to fucking forget about her.
“She’s gonna be there, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s going to be in town a lot now,” Ramsey says.
He sits down beside me on the old sofa that he and his wife Monica had moved to their garage after they made part of their family room into a playroom for their son, James. Then he hands me a beer.
“She’s heading up some brand new local branch of her law firm. Because Clay Tucker specifically asked for her. It’s a really big fucking deal. Tons of money for Albuquerque. And for Brynn, I’m assuming.”
“Is that so.”
I crack open the beer.
Of course Clay Tucker asked her to do it. I’m sure he asked her to do other things too. I’m no business man but I know that there are more to these deals that often go on behind the scenes than get reported to the public.
“She’s going to be working in both Albuquerque and New York, from what I hear,” Ramsey says. “In case you’re still interested.”
I just shake my head.
“So you really didn’t know any of this? You haven’t talked to her since New York, have you?” Ramsey says, as one of his band mates says, “Two minutes until we start up on the new song.”
“Nope.”
“I thought you guys had really hit it off. She never explained why she stood you up when you went to go see her?”
I shrug.
It’s not a fair characterization to say she never explained. She tried to explain, I’ll give her that. When I got off the plane in Albuquerque I had a voicemail from her saying that she wanted to explain.
And then she’d called once after that, telling me something about some big meeting at her firm. Something important had come up and she’d needed to stay to discuss it.
But funny enough, she hadn’t mentioned a word about Clay Tucker.
And I was sick of wondering whether or not I could trust her. I figured I’d been better off how I was before I’d met her. Sure, it could be a fucking lonely and depressing life. But I didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. And I didn’t have to listen to their pathetic attempts to explain anything about their own life and their own choices to me.
Suddenly an SUV pulls up and Monica and James get out. Jensen’s wife Riley and their son Drew is with them.
“Daddy!” James says, running into the garage and throwing his arms around Ramsey.
“James Bowie,” Ramsey says, using James’ full name— they named their kid after a fucking rock star— sternly, but tousling his hair gently at the same time. “What did Daddy tell you about interrupting his band practice?”
“Stay out of the garage,” James parrots. “Adults only.”
He points at the beer in my hand and says, “Uh oh.”
“Honey, you can’t exactly leave the door wide open and expect him not to want to run in and see his daddy,” Monica says, with a frown.
Riley adds, “That’s called an attractive nuisance.”
She holds Drew’s hand in one of her hands and a bag of groceries in the other.
“I know, Darling,” Ramsey agrees. “So come here and let me apologize properly. And hello, Riley.”
“Hello Ramsey. And Blaze. And Larson,” Riley says. “Monica was just helping me do some shopping for our big Thanksgiving dinner. You guys in? Larson?”
“I don’t think so.” I tell her. “But thank you.”
The way that James is hugging Ramsey’s legs as Ramsey wraps his arms around Monica is really pulling at my heartstrings. I don’t think I could bear any big happy multiple family Thanksgiving get- togethers. Especially not with Brynn and Caleb there.
“Well, you know you’re always welcome,” Riley says. “I’m helping Monica bring in some things she bought to the house and then I need to take off, but I just wanted to make sure to personally invite you before I leave. And you don’t even need to let me know if you change your mind. Just stop on by. We have plenty for everyone.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell her.
“Alright, new song up now,” Ramsey’s band mate Blaze says. “Break time’s over. We need to work on this song before all you lazy bastards take Thanksgiving through Christmas off.”
“Oh, look at the poor lonely bachelor complaining that everyone else has family obligations over the holidays,” Ramsey says, in a mock whine.
“You’re welcome at our house for Thanksgiving too, Blaze,” Riley chimes in. “Everyone is welcome, as I said. It’s not just for couples or families.”
“Maybe you’ll find a mate at our come one come all Thanksgiving dinner party,” Ramsey jokes.
I look at this pretty boy asshole’s slicked- back hair and skinny jeans and imagine him sitting down across the table from Brynn.
Fuck.
Maybe I should go.
I’m mad at her, sure. But I don’t want his greasy emo hipster paws anywhere near her.
“Come on inside, James,” Monica says, as she and Riley and Drew start to head into the house.
“Uh uh,” James insists, still grasping Ramsey’s legs.
Ramsey looks torn and frustrated: wanting to be with his son but also needing to practice with his band.
“Come here,” I tell him, patting the empty seat beside me that Ramsey had left open. I toss my empty beer can into the trash can by the amp. “Let’s listen to Daddy’s band play their new song and then you can go in with Mommy, okay?”
“O-tay,” James says, climbing up on the couch.
“Thanks, Larson,” Monica says, as they go inside.
Ramsey flashes me a grateful look and then goes to join the band.
“This is not going to be some perfect polished song you’re about to listen to,” Blaze warns James and me. “It’s brand new and rough around the edges.”
“That’s fine,” I tell him. “We’re honored to be the first to hear it. Aren’t we, bud?”
James nods and says, “Daddy’s song!”
“Yeah, I wrote this song about your mommy and me,” Ramsey says. “And how sometimes the right woman, even in what seems like the wrong circumstances, can be worth giving a second chance.”
He looks at me when he says this and I want to tell him to leave me the fuck alone, but I don’t, since James is right here next to me. And because I understand what he’s trying to do. He’s just looking out for me and wanting the best for me, like he’s found with Monica.
As they start playing, James rests his head on my chest. I put my arm around him and can’t help but think of Caleb and his bunny song.
I am a fighter, Ramsey sings.
I fight for our love.
Our love is worth fighting for.
Fucking Ramsey. And Riley too.
Trying to set me up yet again with Brynn.
Just when I thought we were over.
Now I’m not quite sure.
Because all signals seem to be pointing towards fighting for the one I love, even though she royally pissed me the fuck off.