Page 106 of The Pansy Paradox
“That’s kind of you,” Henry says.
“You both look like you need some comfort food. I’ll have Milo check to see if we have any tater-tot hotdish left in the back.”
Oh! Guy’s pulling out the big guns. Not everyone gets the tater-tot hotdish, especially the ones Guy conjures up. Never the same dish twice. Henry looks askance at the prospect. I’m pretty sure he’ll change his mind after the first bite.
Guy tucks his phone away and then studies Henry. “I knew your father.” Again, that long stare, the light in his eyes, an unreadable history. Not even the Sight is willing to spare a single hint.
“He was a good man,” Guy adds after a long moment. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”
Henry nods, and I can taste the heartbreak.
Guy sits with Henry while I shower the mud from my skin. I’m still fighting exhaustion, but the toxin is leaving my system. My head is clear enough to know what both Henry and I need, which is some solid sleep.
A short while later, I’m at the front door with Guy, and his reluctance to leave creases his brow. He’s a huge, worried Teddy bear.
“You’ll be okay?” he asks. “I can stay.”
Milo’s delivery is tucked safely away in the fridge for later. Henry is sleeping, and that’s next on the agenda for me.
“We’re fine.” Fine being one of those relative terms. I pause, considering what it is that’s pinging the back of my mind. “Actually, could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Make sure no one goes near the housing development.”
“No one ever does, except for you.”
“I know.” I shut my eyes, because now there’s an overlay to my memory. I see multiple developments, or rather, multiple versions of the land the housing development sits on. “Things are different. And someone might…”
Might what? Be tempted there? What does this mean for the citizens of King’s End? Can this new reality hurt them? I don’t know, but I can’t let anyone near the development until we know for certain.
“And maybe the front door?” I don’t expect anyone to show up, but I’d rather not be surprised.
Guy pulls me into a hug. “I’ll keep watch.”
I know this: he absolutely will.
I ease the door closed behind him. My umbrella and Henry’s are snuggled together in the stand. Their canopies are a bit deflated, but they are definitely cozy and content.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you both.”
From the pantry, I pull out the pillow and blanket and lug them to the office, grabbing my phone along the way. I switch it back on in case something does happen, and Guy sends a text.
Henry appears serene, dark eyelashes brushing those cheekbones, mouth soft, like a little boy’s. His chest rises and falls in a way that reassures me, makes my own chest loosen, my own breathing relax.
Yes, I could sleep, too, possibly for days. I shove the coffee table out of the way and then curl up on the floor next to the couch. The last thing I feel before sleep takes me is the reassuring brush of fingertips against my forehead.
I enter the office triumphantly, a tray with two plates of hotdish, a pot of fresh tea, and the aroma of both wafting ahead of me.
Now, even if you’ve never tried tater-tot hotdish, you probably know what it is: ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, and frozen tater tots, obviously. You can doctor it up. You can make it fancy with fresh ingredients and a rack full of spices. No one but Guy can do all that and still infuse it with nostalgia. It simultaneously tastes like your favorite childhood casserole and something from a Michelin-star restaurant.
Henry raises an eyebrow, his skepticism melting in the wake of the scent. He’s sitting up, barely, but he’s managing it. Earlier, he tried to push himself from the couch to help in the kitchen, but his legs refused to cooperate.
He needs to eat. We both do. But more than that, I suspect he’s injured somewhere and trying to hide it. The Screamers landed a direct hit, and the wound is draining him. I hand him a plate, pour tea, and then sit on the coffee table directly across from him. I’m determined not to miss a single wince.
Henry sips from his cup and then raises it. “Same recipe?”
“Exactly.”
