Page 40 of Cover Up

“I could take you out,” Felix said very quietly.

Dei laughed as he pushed back up to his feet and tested his balance. He felt a little off from the long flight, but nothing he couldn’t manage. He took a few steps closer to Felix, but not as many as he wanted to. “Why don’t you let me take care of you for a bit.”

“You’re already doing—”

“Don’t say I’m doin’ enough,” Dei interrupted, refusing to let him finish that sentence. “You just let yourself unwind while I pick us up some food, and I’ll feed you up real nice.”

Felix looked like he had a thousand things to say to that, but instead, he just nodded and refused to meet Dei’s eyes.

He stood there another moment, but when it was clear he wasn’t getting anything else out of Felix, he turned, grabbed his cane, and headed out the door.

The drive to the supermarket was close. It was some expensive corner shop that looked like it was trying to be a gourmet bodega. The produce section was tragically small, but it had enough for what Dei wanted to cook. He grabbed zucchini, squash, and a couple of different types of mushrooms before heading to the butcher. The counter only had a few items, so he went with shrimp and steak, then snagged a bottle of some nondescript, brownish marinade that the butcher recommended.

The fact that the market was so small made the few customers in there feel a little claustrophobic, and there were eyes on him no matter what aisle he turned on. A small part of him regretted not wearing his dog tags simply because it stopped total strangers from asking him what happened.

Usually, the conversation turned to the simpering “thank you for your service” or some shit, which was easier to deal with than the invasive questions. And Dei didn’t mind it all the time, but there were days he wished he could just exist in his body like everyone else and not as some showcase for public consumption.

Luckily, before he ran his mouth off at some old woman who had damn near rammed her cart into him three times because she couldn’t stop staring at his arm, his phone rang. He hooked his cane over the cart handle and dug into his pocket, surprised to see Jeremiah’s name on the screen.

“Bud, I just left. Please tell me this ain’t some crisis call,” he all but begged.

Jeremiah laughed. “No. But someone forgot to tell me that they landed and got in safely. And you know me. I’m a goddamn helicopter mom.”

Dei rolled his eyes and pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he leaned on the cart and headed for the bakery. In a perfect world, he’d throw together something from scratch and continue to woo Felix through his food, but he didn’t have the energy to do more than fire up the grill and toss a few things onto an open flame.

There was a massive display of tarts that looked fresh, and he hummed as he eyed them. “Well, we landed, and I’m safe,” he said into Jeremiah’s continued silence. “Anything else you need?”

“To check on my friend,” Jeremiah said. “To make sure you’re not getting in over your head.”

Dei sighed as he snagged one of the tart boxes, then eyed the lines. There were only two checkouts open, and none of them were self-serve. He made his way toward the crowd and wondered if West Coast culture was gonna invite people to yell at him for being on the phone.

“Everything’s goin’ exactly as it should be. Felix is back at the house getting settled in.” He debated about telling Jeremiah about the bed situation, but he didn’t want to. Jeremiah was a fixer—which meant he’d come up with a reasonable alternative to sharing, and Dei didn’t want that.

“And how is he feeling? Max has literally worried himself sick over it.”

“He probably has a right to,” Dei said, his heart sinking. “His family’s a real piece of work. He’s tryin’a keep it together, but I feel like tomorrow might be rough.”

“I’m glad you’re there with him. Even if you two have your heads too far up your asses.”

Dei rolled his eyes and shuffled one step further in line. “Well, thanks for the pep talk, boss. Now, I’m gonna let you go before this one-armed bastard makes a fool of himself tryin’a load up all these groceries.”

“Are you cooking for him?” Jeremiah asked with obvious glee.

“Fuck you. And yes. See you when I get back. Don’t let the restaurant burn down before I get home.” Dei snagged the phone from his shoulder and ended the call before he finally reached the conveyor belt.

As he reached into the cart, there was a hand on his arm, tugging at him. Dei wasn’t a big fan of being touched by total strangers, and he reared back, ready to strike, before he saw a middle-aged woman with a short, blonde bob.

She was smiling at him. “Let me help.”

“No, thank you, ma’am. I’ve got it.”

Her face immediately dropped. “Do I really look old enough to be a ma’am?”

Dei licked his lips. That was a trap, and he knew it. “Where I’m from, don’t matter your age. It’s just polite. Unless I got your gender wrong, and then I apologize from the deepest part of my heart.”

Her face fell even more. “Do I look like one of those types?”

Dei had a feeling this was gonna go from bad to worse if he wasn’t careful. “I do my best not to judge anyone by the way they look. If people did that to me, god only knows what strangers would say.” Then he turned and began to load his things onto the belt.

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