Page 27 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer (Goose Run #1)

DANNY

I t had been something of a letdown when I couldn’t go and see Miller over the weekend, and I had to admit that when he declined my call today my paranoia flared for a hot second.

I was suddenly convinced that he was ghosting me or that he’d met an old flame while visiting his family and realized how far out of my league he was.

But then I reminded myself that he’d been the one to call me earlier today. He was probably with a client, that was all. I just needed to chill. It was just that now I’d realized I was emotionally invested, I had this irrational fear that Miller didn’t feel the same.

So when he texted back after what felt like forever and asked if I wanted to meet him for dinner, I slumped against the front counter at work with relief. There was just one problem.

I’d love to but I’m working afternoons.

The three dots did their dance across the screen, my hopes rising and falling along with them, and then the message appeared.

Why don’t I come over and bring something? Unless Goose Run has good takeout?

I snorted. It was like he’d never been here.

Goose Run has zero takeout unless you count the hot dogs from the gas station, and we’re not eating those.

In that case, Indian?

I typed:

Sounds good. I finish at 7.

“What are you grinning at?” Chase demanded, glancing over from where he was playing with his phone at the coffee counter.

“Miller’s coming over later.”

Chase smirked and said, “I can go out if you want. It’ll only cost you twenty bucks.”

“I only have ten,” I said, “but I’ll do your laundry for two weeks.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “And Cash’s.”

Chase was a mercenary little shit, but I considered it ten bucks well spent because Cash was already working a late shift tonight and Wilder was stripping at a bachelorette party over in Brodnax, so it meant I’d have the house to myself.

It would be a lot easier to talk to Miller without the guys hanging around. And if things went like I hoped they would, I definitely didn’t want an audience. My plan was pretty loose, but basically it went something along the lines of:

I’d tell Miller I really liked him and suggest we take this to the next level.

Miller would feel the same and he’d agree.

Then we’d seal the deal with boyfriend blow jobs.

I wasn’t sure if they were any different from regular blow jobs, but I was willing to do the research.

Like, it wasn’t a very detailed plan, but it had everything I needed.

Chase narrowed his eyes at me. “Wait, you’re not gonna fuck on the couch again, are you?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, laughing.

I hadn’t been planning on it last time either, but he didn’t need to know that.

When I got home that night, I looked around the house again and wished it was…

better. A bit newer, a bit cleaner, instead of a lived-in old house that, even if we scrubbed it from floor to ceiling—which we never had and never would, let’s be clear—would still be full of scuff marks, wear and tear, and places where the paint was peeling.

And then I told myself to get my head out of my ass.

This house was my home, for better or worse.

Besides, Miller hadn’t had a problem with it so far.

Or if he had, he hadn’t said anything. Maybe I was inventing issues that didn’t exist.

I was doing pretty well in life, you know?

I had a job I didn’t love, but it was a steady one, and I was saving up so I could study to become an EMT. College right after school hadn’t been in the cards for me, and that was fine too because I was still young. Lots of people had a gap year or two. Okay, approaching four. Whatever.

Anyway, the point was that I had a long-term plan, and it was a lot more thought out than the one I was gonna hit Miller with tonight. As soon as I had enough money saved, I’d enroll at community college and get myself certified, and once I had an EMT job lined up, I’d quit my job at Goose Run Gas.

The thing was, community college wasn’t expensive, not when you compared it to state colleges, but at the same time, when you’d just given your last ten dollars to your roommate so he didn’t cockblock you tonight, it sure felt a long way away.

Lately, it felt as though I’d been treading water instead of actually getting ahead.

It occurred to me that if we did get a payout from Harlan, maybe I could talk to Grandma about using some of it to start college next fall.

She knew about my plan, and I was pretty sure she’d be on board.

Depended on whatever broke and needed replacing around the house next, I supposed, and how much the payout from Harlan might be.

Also, Grandma had bills of her own to pay—it seemed like Sunny Fields was always finding some reason to put up costs—and it was her tree and her payout, not actually mine.

But still, a loan might not be out of the question.

Either way, I was determined to get certified eventually. Slow progress was still progress, right?

I had some time before Miller arrived, so I showered and shaved, then spent far too much time worrying over which shirt to wear.

Which was crazy, I knew. Miller didn’t give a shit about what I was wearing, and it wasn’t like we were going out anywhere.

Hell, if tonight went the way I hoped, I’d be naked by the end of it anyway.

In the end I pulled on a clean tee, ran my hands through my hair, and called it good.

Then I tidied the living room while I ran through the speech I’d prepared in my head for around the fiftieth time since Miller had texted.

Hopefully I wouldn’t get much past the part that went, I really like you , before he’d connect the dots—Miller was super smart—but I also remembered how confused he’d been when I gave him my number.

Maybe he was only lawyer smart, not people smart, so I was prepared to spell it out for him if I needed to.

I just hoped I didn't need to.

Headlights flashed, and I felt the sudden, stupid urge to hurry to the bathroom and check my hair wasn’t out of place. Like, it was always out of place, however often I dragged a comb through it. It wasn’t like Miller turning up would suddenly give me the power to be the opposite of unkempt.

Kempt?

Anyhow, I looked good. Well, I looked fine, which was good enough.

Jesus. I hated how Miller had made me insecure about how I looked, where I lived, what I did for work. I mostly hated it because he hadn’t done anything to cause it—it was all my own stupid brain, not him. It was like if I judged myself first, it would sting less when he did it or something.

Dumbass.

There was a knock at the door and when I opened it, Miller stood there carrying two big bags of takeout that smelled fucking amazing. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I looked at the bags again. “How many people were you planning on feeding?”

“I wasn’t sure if the guys would be here or not,” he said, like it was no big deal to bring enough for them as well.

Shit like that was why I was falling for him.

We went through to the kitchen, and I dug out some plates.

“Any trouble from next door?” Miller asked me as he opened the containers, and the aroma of spices filled the air and made my stomach growl with anticipation.

“Not for a bit,” I said. “Hey, how much do you think the payout might be?”

He got that little divot between his eyebrows when he tugged them together. “Well, that’s hard to say. It relies on a lot of different things.”

“I’m thinking about community college is all,” I said. “And I know it’s Grandma’s money, not mine, but she’d probably give me a loan, you know? I was just wondering if there might be enough for that.”

Miller eased the lid off a container of jasmine rice. “How much is community college?”

I winced. “About two and half grand, the course I want.”

He blinked at me. “Two and half grand?”

“Yeah.” My stomach sank, and I shrugged. “I mean, I’ll save it eventually. Just might be at Goose Run Gas a little longer, I guess.”

His mouth twitched. “Danny, it’s gonna be more than two and a half grand.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He let out a little laugh. “A lot more. Like I said, I can’t give a figure, and I won’t, because that’s bad practice, but you’re easily looking at over ten. Maybe a lot over ten. Very probably a lot over ten, depending on the valuation from an arborist.”

Ten. Thousand. I stood there, stunned into silence. Ten thousand.

I had visions of myself diving into a pool of coins, like Scrooge McDuck, while Grandma floated around in an inflatable flamingo at the other end of the pool. I didn’t know why an inflatable flamingo. She had a cocktail as well, and big sunglasses.

Forget cocktails. Community college was suddenly looking a lot more likely.

“Danny? Are you okay?”

I jolted out of my Scrooge McDuck fantasies. “I’m fine. It’s just… that’s a lot of money.”

Miller put a hand on my shoulder and I put my hand on top of his instinctively. He smiled. “It’s a decent amount, yeah.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Do you have a bowl for the raita?”

“Which one’s that?” I asked, and he pointed at a container. “Um, probably, or we can just eat it out of that.”

We carried the dishes, and a few of the containers, into the dining room and sat down to eat.

“So we have to get an arborist?” I asked. “How does that happen?”

“Oh, we’ll sort that out,” Miller said. “Well, Marty will. He apparently has Virginia’s top three arborists on speed dial. That’s what he says, anyway, and at this point I’m not sure if I’m confident enough to call him a liar. He’s just so weird it might be true.”

I laughed. “I like Marty.”

Miller raised an eyebrow at me. “Try working with him. But he does know a lot about tree law, I’ll give him that.”

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the part where Harlan was going to give us ten thousand dollars. It seemed too good to be true.