don’t give a damn about anything. You should both try it sometime,” Travis finally responded. For some reason, Georgie’s face popped into his mind. The odd timing propelled him into picking up a sledgehammer and burying it in the dining room wall. “Come on in, boys. The water’s fine.”
“No, thank you.” Stephen inspected the wall through the hole. “I like the hot water Kristin is boiling me alive in. Keeps me young.”
“Keeps you on the verge of a stroke, you mean.”
“Maybe.” Stephen almost smiled, but whatever he saw in the wall made him frown. “We’re going to need to bring in a support beam.”
Dom came up behind them. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Stephen massaged the bridge of his nose. “But if I’ve got a post in the middle of Bethany’s open concept, she’ll have to change the whole design.”
“And you’ll have to replace the balls she’s going to rip off,” Dom muttered.
“If she hasn’t changed since high school, that sounds about accurate.” Travis dropped the sledgehammer and started to gather his tools, knowing it would be pointless to move on until they brought in a crew to bolster the structure. “You guys up for a beer?”
“I’m in,” Dom said, taking off his work gloves and shoving them in his back pocket. “Rosie is taking some exercise class tonight, so I’m fending for myself. Again.”
A deep trench formed between Dom’s eyebrows. Growing up, Travis remembered those two being a solid couple who seemed to speak their own language, no one else in the room existing when they were together. They’d had each other’s backs, named their future children, and were voted Most Likely to Get Married. After graduation, Dom made the yearbook prediction a reality and proposed to Rosie, right there in the center of the football field, both of them in caps and gowns. Months later, having parked a ring on Rosie’s finger, he’d joined the marines and spent time overseas—but he’d come back quieter. More serious.
Travis didn’t intend to diagnose Dom the way Stephen might, but there definitively appeared to be trouble in paradise where Dom and Rosie were concerned. Even Travis, who thought marriage was an unrealistic institution, didn’t want to see the couple drift apart. Back in the day, everyone had been so positive they’d be the ones to beat the odds.
If Dom and Rosie were going to separate, Travis could only be grateful they didn’t have children. He knew too well how divorce could turn a child into a pawn in an ugly game of chess. After all, he was standing across the street from the hell his own parents had created for him.
Yeah, definitely time for that beer.
They each took their own truck into town, parking in the lot behind Grumpy Tom’s and piling in through the back door, reserved for regulars. Port Jefferson was a small town, but it had become an increasingly popular destination over the years. Most of the sightseers stayed near the water where the ferry let off or shopped on Main Street. Every once in a while, some of them wandered into Grumpy Tom’s, but most of the bar’s patrons were locals. Some blue collar, some white collar, and all with one goal: to watch the ball game and unwind. Tonight in particular that was exactly what Travis needed.
Before they could order drinks, a man slid in beside them at the bar, pounding a fist on the wood and drawing attention with a booming laugh. “There he is. I knew Two Bats would get back on the prowl if we just gave him time.” The man scanned the bar. “Slim pickins tonight, but once the ladies hear you’re around, it’ll be standing room only. We all stand to benefit.”
Having his sordid past glorified didn’t sit right. Over the last year, he’d been traded to Chicago, San Diego, Miami. During nights out, or even in professional settings, men would approach him and ask for details of his exploits. Travis usually satisfied their curiosity without actually imparting any real information. The old I never kiss and tell routine. But even that felt wrong now. He wasn’t up for it anymore. And the reminder of his reputation was bothering him more than usual tonight, having Stephen within earshot—the man whose little sister had fallen asleep on his bed last week.
Travis sent the patron a vague smile, hoping he’d take the hint and fuck off. “All right, man.”
“The boys were saying you haven’t picked up one skirt since coming home, and I said . . .” He