The Naturals | O.S

The Wedding

DEAN

I lower myself back down towards the ground, my shoulders tensing with the effort. My core feels tight, distracting me from the ache in my ribs as I push myself back up, keeping my head aligned with my spine while my arms straighten.

"Ninety nine," somebody grits, and I look up through my brows to see Michael, crouched down in anticipation. "Come on, come on! One more!"

I clench my jaw, lowering myself down once more. He smacks the ground in triumph, cheering as if this weren't one of the most mundane things I'd done this week.

"One hundred! Great job, buddy— I knew you could do it," he congratulates, and I raise a curt brow, rising onto my knees.

"That was actually one twenty," I correct, and he deadpans.

"Sure it was, Redding." He tosses me a towel as I stand, leaning his weight against the bench press. "Are you trying to beef up before the wedding? Cause... it's a little too late for that."

I flex my arms subconsciously, my biceps bulging at my sides. A bead of sweat drips down the column of my chest, and I dab at it with the towel.

"Always modest," Michael comments idly.

"Always bitter."

"Do you always work out without a shirt on?" He jabs, crossing his arms.

"No pants, either, if Kathy's home," I provoke, and Michael winces. I shake my head with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"The weddings in less than two hours. Lia said that if we're not there at least forty five minutes early, she'll, and I quote, "cut our balls off with a pair of kiddie scissors," so... we should get moving."

A little over two years ago, we were working an abduction case involving a young woman and her son. It was a gruelling task, with a lot of sleepless nights, but we were able to find them just before the ransom went out.

The woman, Danielle, and her then boyfriend Brandon got engaged last year, and invited Kathy, Lia, and Sloane to be bridesmaids at the ceremony.

The three of them left for the venue early this morning, and Lia, much her style, couldn't get out the door without uttering at least a couple threats.

I remember something about an eye socket and a perfume bottle.

"How far away is the venue?" I ask.

Maddox clambers down the garage steps. "Thirty minutes. If we go eighty down the interstate, we can get there in twenty four."

"That leaves us an hour to get ready," Michael calculates, and he cocks his head in my direction. "Think you can shower without thinking of your girlfriend? Because that usually takes about an hour."

"Think you can shower without thinking of my girlfriend?" I retort.

"Guys guys, you're both pretty," Maddox mediates. "But you'll be even prettier once you're in your tuxes. So get your asses back in the house, before I have to carry out plan B."

"Plan B?" Michael questions.

"Sloane made it up."

"Say no more." Michael jogs through the door, Maddox not far behind.