Page 92 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
When Ms. Cadwell settles into bed, we make way for a few of the nurses to haul in her luggage, and I snag Cali aside to check in with her.
“How are you doing?” I ask, surfing my hands up and down her arms.
She wedges her bottom lip between her teeth, nursing the tender spot there. “This place will be perfect for her,” she answers.
Her gaze flicks to her mother like a skipping stone, and there’s just the slightest bit of moisture warping her eyes.
I turn her chin back to face me, wishing she could use me as some magical conduit that transfers all her unwanted emotions to me. “No tears, remember?”
“No tears,” she parrots back, sporting a brave visage for her brother. I smooth out those creases on her forehead with a kiss, and the invisible pressure around my heart relents, ushering fresh breath into my lungs.
She looks up at me, long lashes flittering against her brow ridge. “Thank you. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Probably exactly where you are now but with a lot less orgasms,” I jest, elbowing her and wiggling my eyebrows, to which she surprisingly refrains from violence and settles for an eye roll.
The clanking of boxes and the crackle of chatter is the only reason I say what I say next, otherwise there might be a double death in Cali’s bloodline if I’m throwing filth around like I’m six beers in and half-naked at a Mardi Gras festival.
Warmth snares in my belly. “You keep rolling your eyes and I’ll give you a real reason for them to roll back.”
Still got it.
This time, Cali slaps me on the arm. “We’renotgetting it onin the old folks’ home!” she hisses under her breath, offering a polite smile to the clueless caretakers as they begin to box-cut through packing tape.
“You seriously don’t think these guys are getting freaky under the sheets when the lights turn off?”
“Ugh! Oh, God. I don’t want to picture that.Ever.” Cali shudders in disgust, rubbing her eyes with balled fists like it’ll magically erase the image I’ve implanted in her head. “I need to find the nearest spoon and scoop my eyes out with it.”
I cock my head. “Are you saying that you won’t hide the salami with me when I’m old and have a shrunken, three-inch peen?”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and if there weren’t impressionable minds in the room, I’d go ahead and bite it. “You already have a three-inch peen.”
“I’d be offended if I didn’t walk straight into that one.”
“Just keeping you humble.”
“Yep, I’m aware. It’s what I both love and fear about you.”
Teague, who I’m assuming is already tuckered out from bouncing off the walls, tugs on Cali’s shirt with his perpetually sticky hands, doing that weird thing where kids just open mouth cough all the time.
“What are you guys taaalkiiing about?” he pesters.
Cali and I answer him at the same time.
“Taxes,” I say.
“Where to eat lunch,” she says.
He jumps up and down excitedly, nearly throwing her off-kilter with the force of his yanks, hope and the promise of something cheesy glimmering in deep sea eyes. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Can we pleeeaaaseee go to that Mexican restaurant where they deep-fry quesadillas?”
Dear God. I can feel it clogging my arteries as we speak.What happened to kids eating whatever food you accidentally dropped on the ground?
Cali licks the pad of her thumb and tries to tame Teague’s mess of flyaways, slicking some of his hair and pushing it out of his face. “What about something less…deep-fried?” she proposes, draping the ends of his long bangs behind his ear. “Like a regular quesadilla?”
Teague ponders her counteroffer, swishes it around in his mouth, then stubbornly spits it back out with exaggerated revulsion. “But I like when they deep-fry it! It’s so crunchy.”
Cali frowns, and I know that she’s going to continue arguing with Teague to ensure a stomachache-free afternoon, so I decide to throw my hat in the ring because Uncle Gage has great ideas. (I’ve taken the creative liberty of referring to myself as Uncle instead of Coach, since that seems more fitting, you know?)
“You know, Little Man. I’ve heard there’s this Hibachi restaurant downtown that cooks your food in front of you. Lots of fire. And the chefs do all sorts of food tricks while you wait.”
