I glare at him. I am not answering that.
He points at me. “If you have to think about it, it’s been too damn long. You cannot tell me that did not cross your mind once this weekend.
They are pinching my very last nerve. That’s just it. I did think about it. I would’ve never acted on it, but I did think about it.
Carson’s sarcastic laugh hits my ears, making my blood boil. “Boys, it’s been so long he’s forgotten how to do this.” He grins. “It’s all right. We got you, bro.” He rubs his hands together.
Smiles break out across the garage, except I feel like my head might actually explode. These Nosy Nancys need to stay the hell out of my business.
“And I’m supposed to take advice from you, Mr. Celibate-Cause-I’ve-Got-A-Plan?”
Shit. I just admitted they might be right.
He holds his arms out. “Hey, it’s not because I’m afraid. The time just isn’t right. I’m a patient man.”
I laugh this time, and it’s filled with sarcastic rage. I want to fire all of them and their satisfied faces.
“Text her,” Trig says, and it’s possible I growl. “Go on. Pull your phone out and send her a little something.” He waves his finger in front of me, and I have the urge to break it in two.
I glare at him as they all stare me down.
“It’s been five days. You’re behind. You’ve gotta break the ice,” Wind says, strolling closer.
“What are you doing? Keeping a schedule?” These idiots are ridiculous. “I’m not texting anyone.”
“Oh yes you are,” Carson says, sliding up next to me. “Because even if Sarah isn’t interested the slightest bit in your grouchy ass, this is practice. You need to get some game, bro. All this deadpan and sharp attitude won’t get you where you’re looking to go.”
“I’m not looking to go anywhere,” I grit through my teeth.
Wind snorts. “Slade.” He rests his hand on my shoulder, and I flick it off. His tone turns soft. “We saw you with that little boy. That’s the only direction to go. He needs you as much as you need them.”
That little observation hits a tender spot I’m desperate to ignore, slamming right into my pride of wanting to work this out on my own. My spine relaxes, succumbing to these morons and their wisdom.
“We talked about this. It’s time, man. We’re here to help,” Carson says.
“Just pull out your phone and message her.” Trig makes it sound so simple. “What can it hurt?”
My entire heart. It can hurt the whole damn thing. Permanently.
“There’s a time for fear, and there’s a time to grab it by the balls and choke that shit out. You don’t really want to be a lonely, miserable son of a bitch forever.” Carson nods. “Come on. Make a move.”
I inhale and let it out, thinking of all the times over the past few days when I almost did but didn’t. My mind flashes to Sarah’s head on my chest, holding her close. I want more of that. More momentsaround the dinner table. I want to hear Frankie giggle and chase after Ollie at the park. I want noise and laughter and fun. At least I want a chance of having something like it.
“And say what?” I grunt.
There’s silence as these dickheads think about it.
My shoulders fall, and I roll my eyes, turning for my office.
“Wait!” Carson stops me.
“Are they coming for Thanksgiving?” Wind scratches his beard. “I need to know what size turkey to buy.”
I turn, walking toward my office again, not wasting another second.
“Hold on.” Carson stops me. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Wind’s hands move to his hips as he smiles.
