Hearts Like Ours | Red View Romance #1

🍎 Thirty One

The house was emptier than usual thanks to Gabby's return to Red View. Kenzie took Annie and Layla out to dinner to meet her closest friend, and Marshall tagged along to welcome her home. With Lillie Mae and Roman staying home tonight, Jack and Dawson were alone for dinner—something that hadn't happened in months.

Last time, they'd had an argument after getting in each other's way in the kitchen and ended up eating in separate rooms. It seemed like Jack was trying to avoid a repeat of that by staying in his office, not even bothering to come to the kitchen despite the smell of soup and grilled cheese that was now filling the house.

Dawson hovered over the stove, wondering what the hell he was doing. Grilled cheese and soup weren't exactly the world's greatest peace treaty, but they'd have to suffice, because he was out of any other ideas. Layla wanted him to talk to Jack, and he was going to, whether his brother liked it or not.

How hard could it be to have a nice conversation? Why did old times have to stay that way? They could be friends again—if only Jack wouldn't behave like such a dick sometimes.

Not helping, Dawson reminded himself, slicing into a fresh tomato as the bread sizzled nearby. He'd make Jack's sandwich just the way he always liked it, he'd bring it to him in his office, and the two of them would talk, maybe even crack a few smiles. How hard could it be?

Still, irritation had him setting down plates on the counter harder than he meant to. Why was he the one trying to make amends? He wasn't the one who woke up one day and started acting different. He wasn't the one picking arguments about the most mundane things, or pretending like his brother didn't exist whenever they were in a room together.

It doesn't matter. He tried to believe those words as he ladled out soup into ceramic bowls and organized the food onto two trays. He stacked them and made his way to Jack's office, telling himself to be the bigger person. It didn't matter how or why all this arguing got started, but it'd be a damn good thing for them and everyone else around if he could put an end to it.

The door to Jack's office was open a crack—usually he'd just walk inside, admittedly to irritate Jack on purpose. But this time he balanced the trays on one arm and used his free hand to knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Jack called from the other side.

Dawson figured that was as much of an invitation as he was going to get and opened the door, managing a weak grin that felt almost like a grimace. It was hard to believe things could feel this awkward between them when everything used to be so easy. "I brought dinner."

Jack looked up from scattered paperwork, pushing his glasses up as his gaze landed on the trays in Dawson's hands. "Oh. Thanks."

"It's just soup and a sandwich," he said as Jack gathered the pages and stacked them at the edge of his desk, clearing a space to eat. He took the top tray, setting it down as Dawson lowered into one of the seats across from him, earning a look of blank surprise.

"You need to talk about something?" Jack took one of the napkins from his tray and spread it over his lap, protecting his slacks.

"It wouldn't kill you to work in sweatpants, you know," Dawson said, biting into his grilled cheese. He wouldn't admit it, but he was being cautious about crumbs and not spilling soup—getting food all over Jack's office furniture would be a fast route to a fight. "We've been closed for hours."

"I can't focus in pajamas," Jack muttered, stirring his soup, glasses fogging from the steam. In the fifth grade, when Jack's eyesight got so bad he couldn't see the whiteboard in class anymore, Dawson would help him copy notes or cheat on tests, prolonging the inevitable day when Jack would have to get glasses. The day he finally did, he locked himself in his room for hours, giving his parents the silent treatment because they'd said he was too young for contacts. The glasses were the one thing Dawson never poked fun at growing up—even though by the time he was a teenager, Jack embraced the spectacles and probably wouldn't have cared anymore. "It'd be like trying to file paperwork in bed."