Page 75 of Only With Me

“You’re tellin’ me.” Delilah snorts. “Men in their mid-thirties seekingfriends with benefits. Like, sir…being a fuck boy at your age ain’t cute anymore. Grow up.”

I purse my lips, wanting to ask which app she’s on, but I know that’s a bad fucking idea.

Still, I can’t help being a little gutted that she signed up for one. After chatting to her for weeks and not at all this past one, I miss it.

I can’t blame her, though, for moving on to find someone else to talk to.

“Well, I better get home. You guys drive safely.” I walk around Harlow toward the exit.

“You too,” Delilah calls out. “Oh, wait. Waylon?”

“Yeah?” I spin around.

“Tell Wilder we’re prayin’ for him.”

I swallow hard. She knows better than anyone how challenging it’s been and why I had to take action with Jake.

Nodding gratefully, I say, “Thanks, will do.”

When I arrive home fifteen minutes later, Wilder’s passed out on my couch. He’s been waiting for me this whole time, not that I should be too surprised. He doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts.

I turn off the TV, cover him up with a blanket, then pick up the beer bottles on my coffee table. Once I toss those out, I grab his phone and make sure his alarm is set for work tomorrow.

And because I know he could use the sleep, I give him an extra hour.

Chapter Sixteen

Waylon

“Howdy, Jail Bird.”

“Funny,” I deadpan, walking through my parents’ kitchen.

Noah and Magnolia giggle at my sister’s taunting words. They’re leaning against the counter, helping Gramma Grace bake something for dessert.

“Sheriff Wagner didn’t even cuff me or put me in a cell, so it hardly counts.”

“That’s a nice black eye, son.” Dad smacks me hard on the shoulder, and I wince as he passes around me to get to the fridge. “Knuckles look rough, too.”

I swallow hard, taking my seat at the table next to Wilder. “Barely hurts.”

Jake managed to get one face punch, but I got at least two on him.

“Isn’t this where you sayyou should see the other guy?” Noah mimics in a deep voice.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I scowl. “Don’t ya have your own child to worry about? Leave me be.”

“Who knew Waylon would kick anyone’s ass, no less his best friend’s?” Wilder taunts, draping his arm around me. “I guess that means he loves me.”

“Or that you’re a huge pain in my ass and since I can’t kick yours, I had to kick his.”

“No cussin’ at the dinner table.” Mom strolls in with an apron around her waist and Mallory behind her, already gloating at my slipup.

“Pay up, cowboys. I’m savin’ up for a big truck,” Mallory muses, holding out her ridiculous swear jar.

“A bigwhat?” Wilder hollers. “Whaddya need that for?”

“Noneya business, that’s what.”