Page 68 of Torch Songs

“No worries,” he murmured, burying his face into Tad’s neck and closing his eyes. Tad had asmell, a good one, beyond shampoo and body wash and such, and Guthrie had been missing it. It was like a food or something, the way his stomach recognized it, wanted more.

“But you weren’t at the apartment. You didn’t answer your phone.”

Guthrie grimaced. “Old truck,” he explained. “Put the phone on mute when I’m in traffic. Sorry. I just—”

“He fell asleep in the cab,” April said dryly. “Tad, back away from the Guthrie, I think he needs to eat.”

Guthrie shook his head. “Naw, we ate at the—” His gurgling stomach put lie to the idea that the chef’s salad he’d had was enough.

“Grilled cheese sandwich,” April said decisively. “Go sit on the couch. Make cow eyes with my brother. Explain tohimwhy you fell asleep in the truck. It’ll be riveting, I’m sure.”

Tad pulled back far enough for Guthrie to see the purely adolescent irritation in his face. It was the look a big brother gave his irritating little sister when she was butting in andunwelcome. Before Guthrie could laugh, Tad took a deep breath and turned toward Guthrie.

“She’s a pain in the ass—and I should know—but she’s got a good plan. Comeon.”

Tad grabbed his hand like kids on the playground and dragged Guthrie to the couch on legs that seemed almost steady now. He paused for a moment, making sure his donut pillow was in the right place, and then settled delicately, his game leg extended, before gesturing imperiously for Guthrie to take his place on the other side of the couch, facing him.

“You know,” Guthrie said, yawning, “I’m going to fall asleep right here, clothes and all.”

“You will not,” Tad ordered. “Because April’s going to feed you, and then I’m going to take you to bed.”

“That’s forward,” Guthrie poked. “And presumptuous. I can always go back to sleep in the cab.”

“You will not!” Tad’s cheeks were getting pink. “Now come on—talk to me. What were you doing?”

“I think we’ve established I was sleeping,” Guthrie said dryly, and then held out his hand. “It’s no big deal. I… I wanted to be here and not in San Rafael is all, so I drove here instead. I took a few minutes after I parked to make some notes on something in my head, and then I fell asleep.” He relented on all his snarkasm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just honestly didn’t know anybody was expecting me when I got here.”

Tad gave him a glare of pure exasperation. “We were,” he said. “Iwas. Guthrie, you’re important to us.”

Guthrie felt an uncertain smile flicker on his cheeks. “You, uh, know I’m basically a freeloader. Won’t you at least let me pay rent?”

“No,” April said from the kitchen. “I pay rent ’cause I get the spare room. You don’t pay rent because now that you’ve made a big deal out of it, Tad and I won’t let you.”

Guthrie gave her a droll look over his shoulder. “You’re gonna hurt my pride,” he said, and there was a kernel of truth in that, and Tad must have heard it too.

“It’s not pride,” he said primly. “It’s vanity. And control. You don’t want to be in anyone’s debt because you don’t trust that they won’t hold it over you. So tough. We won’t hold it over you. You’ll have to trust us.”

Guthrie was going to argue, but at that moment April came around the corner with a perfectly grilled cheese sandwich. Guthrie stared at her, surprised.

“That was damned quick,” he muttered.

“I did this thing,” she confessed, “where I used mayo on the crust and then got the pan really hot and threw water on it and put a cover over it before I flipped it really quick. It makes the edges crispy and the inside gooey. It’samazing.”

Guthrie stared at her, bemused, and Tad chuckled.

“We watched cooking shows for the last two days,” Tad said, grinning at his sister with pride. “She made blankets, and we watched cooking shows, and I’m finally awake enough to contribute to the conversation. I was practically human.”

“And I’m almost done with Guthrie’s blanket,” she said proudly.

“My blanket?” Guthrie asked through a heavenly, crispy, and gooey bite of grilled cheese sandwich. Mayo on the outside—who knew?

“Yeah,” April said. She gave a nod toward her big laundry basket by the recliner, where a handsome fawn, sage, and lavender blanket sat. It was made in strips, each strip with a textured design on the surface, and Guthrie’s heart went a little wobbly.

“I saw you working on that, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to touch it. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving a proud smile. “If I can make a blanket good enough for you, maybe I canfinallymake a blanket good enough for my brother to replace that crap one.” There were two blankets on the back of the couch now, and Guthrie knew one was from his mother. The other, a basic back-and-forth stitch in a variegated blue, had been one of April’s earlier efforts.

“I like that blanket,” Tad said mildly.

---