Behind me, the deliveryman curses and stomps back onto his barge, leaving me all too aware of Jared and the way he scuffs one worn sneaker against the other, as if waiting for a signal.
Ignoring his obvious puppy-crush, I clear my throat and turn toward the shed. “Come on, I’ll walk you through it.”
Eager boot steps thud on the planks behind me. He’s too young, too fresh out of whatever he did before landing here, and I’m not about to repeat mymistakes. I know too well how it feels to be the one with less power, the one whose inexperience gets twisted. I won’t do that to someone else.
Still, something pulls tight behind my ribs, a sharp tug like a muscle cramp, and I rub a palm over my chest before I can stop myself.
Beside me, Jared ducks his head, ears going red as he keeps pace with me.
I shake it off, chalking it up to stress and too much coffee. Nothing more. Whatever the kid’s hoping for, it’s better not to acknowledge it.
Keep things simple, I tell myself.
But nothing stays simple forever.
Chapter Four
Grady
The sun beats down hard enough to turn the porch boards into a griddle while Chloe pours hot coffee into our mugs.
Steam curls up from the cup, and I think about how this woman has always been half-mad with her habits. I should’ve grabbed a cold bottle of water from Kyle’s fridge if I wanted to survive this little ritual, but we’ve been best friends too long for me to pretend I don’t know her quirks.
She slides one of the chipped mugs across the porch table, satisfaction tugging at her lips. I take it out of habit more than want, the scalding first swallow burning a track down my throat.
Chloe tilts her head toward the closed cabin door, where the air conditioner chugs to keep thesingle room at a more moderate temperature. “Quinn has made it through the first week of lessons without casualties.”
I squint at her, then at the mug. “She’s a good kid. Did you think she’d throw a fit?”
She sighs and leans back with a smile. “She’s becoming a tiny terror.”
My brow puckers. “Why do you look so happy?”
“She’s asserting her authority and testing her boundaries.” When I still stare in confusion, she adds in a whisper, “It means she’s confident enough that we won’t send her away when she acts like a normal kid.”
“Ahh.” I shake my head. “I don’t know how you’re hanging in there with all of you packed into such a tight space.”
“Lots of outdoor time.” A giggle comes from inside the cabin. “Leif’s already an upgrade over my parenting skills.”
“You put a multivitamin on her ice cream last week,” I remind her. “Hard to go anywhere but up.”
She throws back her head to laugh, the sunlight catching in her pink hair, and for a moment, I forget how she used to be such a hermit, holed up in herapartment in the city. It had taken me months to talk her out of her hidey-hole, and now she’s out and about more often than she’s hunkered over her laptop.
My attention drops to my left leg, stretched out on a milk crate with an ice pack resting over the stiff joint.
“I-It’s good to see you happy,” I say, and wince at the stutter. After months of healing from my accident, it only sneaks in when I’m tired or stressed.
Then, my brain skips two steps ahead, leaving my tongue tripping to keep up. The heat of embarrassment works up my neck, but if Chloe catches it, she doesn’t let on.
Instead, she sips her coffee and stares out at the thick screen of trees, which offer shade from the summer heat.
Inside, Quinn’s voice floats through the screen door, muffled but intense. The new nanny, Leif, is reading aloud. I catch the words “centipede,” “scavenger,” and “venom,” and I almost feel sorry for the guy. Quinn’s fascination with gross things is only matched by her desire to share it with others, at full volume.
I shift on the crate and bite down on a groan of discomfort when my knee twinges. “Have youthought about what you’ll do for your next book?”
“Is this your subtle way of suggesting I get back to work?” Chloe sticks her tongue out at me. “I just spent five years cranking out two books a year, and I promised myself a sabbatical. Besides, I’m pretty good at loafing, now that I’ve had some practice.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I pick at the worn edge of my sleeve. “It’s just, the indie world is a different beast. And your knotty elf tentacle smut book did so well. You should capitalize on the momentum now that you’re not being held back by your publisher’s schedule. With the novella length you’re writing, you could?—”