Page 55 of Torch Songs

“Thanks, honey,” he said, closing his eyes. He wanted to dwell on that, bathe in it, let Guthrie’s kindness seep into his pores. He’d do that later; he had to. Right now he had to worry about April because the getting on the bus thing, the coming up to Colton—that was some unprecedented self-actualization on her part, and he had to make sure that was okay. “How’s your place? Are they okay with it?”

April made a suspicious sound, almost a laugh. “No,” she said, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “They are not. But Guthrie’s been talking to them. Callie Leonard hasn’t ever had to deal with a Guthrie before.”

Tad swallowed. “Baby, I… I hate that you have to go back there. I want you in Sacramento. I’ll… I’ll be laid up for a good eight weeks after this. Maybe you could, I don’t know. If we’re rooming together and I’m not gone all the time at first, maybe that’s a good way to start? What do you think?”

April nodded like this had already occurred to her. “We’ll get two cats, one for me and one for Guthrie,” she said calmly.“We’ll eat pizza on Friday nights and have movies, and Guthrie will come and go, but we’ll make sure there’s a home.”

Tad stared at her. “You and Guthrie have, uhm, bonded?”

Her thumb stilled in its massage of his battered knuckles, which was a relief. He hadn’t wanted to tell her that all his skin hurt. “He’s good, Taddy Bear. He’s… he’s good. There’s—” She rubbed her chest. “—something there. I can almost see it. It’s like an aura of sadness, but even if it’s there, he’s still good.”

Tad nodded, relieved. Two days and a thousand years ago, he’d planned to have the two of them meet, and he’d been happy and excited and hopeful. What he’d wanted to happen—that the new person in his life and one of the main people in his life—would meet and get along, had happened in a much deeper way than he’d expected, and he was grateful. So grateful.

He’d fallen silent, almost sinking to sleep again, when he registered April’s question.

“Wha’?”

“Tad, did you really mean it? That I can come live with you soon?”

He nodded. “Let me get out of the hospital first,” he murmured. “I’ll call them and start making arrangements once I get back to Sac.”

He heard another suspicious noise and really looked at her. “Baby?”

“I’m just so glad,” she said, voice choked. “I… I know why I stayed in Bodega Bay at first.” It was where they’d grown up. She loved the ocean. She hadn’t wanted to leave. “But I’m bigger than the place we were born. I-I… the bipolar made me afraid. Of everything different. But I was on my meds—I brought them, Taddy Bear. And the truck ride sucked, and the getting here sucked, and the being scared for yousucked,and if I can get through all that without wanting to use, just to be with mybrother who’d do anything for me, I think of what I’d do in the same town as you, and I think I’ll be okay.”

“Aw, baby,” he murmured. “We’ll do that, then. I promise.”

She gave a tremulous smile and pulled out the bag she’d brought. To his immense relief she released his hand and reached for a bright pink blanket, almost done. “I should be able to have this finished before me and Guthrie leave tomorrow,” she said earnestly, her hands starting their deft watch over the developing fabric. “And I’ve got some more yarn in here. I’m going to make hats foreverybody.”

Tad’s smile took up most of his face and most of his energy. “You mean the Larkins and the Georges?”

“And the Benitezes and the McDanielses,” she said, and he laughed.

“See, you know everybody’s names,” he said. “All I know is that Aaron and Larx are heroes and their kids saved us all.”

She regarded him levelly. “Oh, they are,” she said soberly. “And they did. You’ve got no idea. Guthrie and I were on our last fucking nerve when we finally hooked up with Aaron’s daughter. It wasamazing. I’ve never….” She bit her lip. “Mom was so good, Tad. She worked so hard to keep us together, to keep us happy. I wish she’d had people in her life like this. I…. Olivia, Larx’s daughter? She’s bipolar too. We talked last night, and she… she’s such a grown-up about her meds and her baby and her husband and… she’s given me some faith, you know? That I can be normal. I can stay off the bad shit and keep doing the good. Whatever you gotta do to stay tight with these people, do that, okay?”

Tad gave a small laugh and confessed something to her that he hadn’t even confessed to Chris, who had actually been the first in to debrief him. “Aaron kept threatening to poach me from SAC PD,” he said. “I don’t want to do that to Chris, but I think you’re right. I think we should let ourselves have some friends.”

“And you should let yourself have a boyfriend,” April said softly. “You never told me the whole truth about why Sam left—”

“Because he was a douchebag,” Tad said quickly. He still didn’t want her to know the details. He’d told her the embarrassing story of Jesse because he knew it would make her laugh, but Sam had simply claimed he wanted something different.

“Because of me,” April said without heat. “I’m not stupid. You disappeared from Sac for two months, and when you went back, you didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. I… at the time it registered, but I couldn’t….”

“It’s okay,” he told her softly. “He wasn’t husband material. I should have figured that out when… when Mom passed. I need someone who sticks.”

“Guthrie wants to stick,” she said, and he grimaced.

“Yeah, but like you said….” He was bruised and sore, but he could still make a weak rubbing motion around his heart.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “But maybe he needs a guy who will stick right back.”

He shrugged then, his eyes closing. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll stay here a minute,” she said, “then send Guthrie in.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. And he meant all of it: the coming to see him, the reassurance, the effort to be with people. It was all important. That she’d do that for him was worth being ghosted by Sam, was worth taking a risk on the far more ephemeral-appearing Guthrie. April, his little sister, washere, when he’d thought he was all alone in the world. And she’d brought the man Tad had been trying not to obsess over. Who had stood up.

Who hadreallystood up.

---