FRIGID DARKNESS

 

 

WITHOUT THE shadow of Olivia hovering over the dinner table, Larx felt himself relax for the first time in three days.

He chatted with the kids, made time for a moment or two with Christi, and then, finally, when he and Aaron were doing dishes together, he had a breath to talk.

“Nice?” he asked for the fiftieth time.

“Adorable,” Aaron said, sounding totally serious. “He’s like a wombat—a creature of no hostility, a great deal of fuzz around his chin, and considerable cuteness. They may forget to pay the gas bill, but they’ll love that kid warm by sheer will.”

Larx let out a brief laugh and then sobered.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Aaron looked uncomfortable then, focusing all his attention to the dishes in the sink. “Larx, she was depressed before this happened. To the point of putting off a relationship with the wombat of her dreams. And now she’s pregnant and still not even close to happy. How’s she going to take care of a baby when she’s too depressed to take care of herself?”

Larx set the cup he was drying down with a thunk.

She’d slept for three days.

His whirlwind, his butterfly—she’d been in hibernation.

He was starting to be afraid she couldn’t break free of the stasis she’d been locked in for days.

“I’m….” He let out a breath. So many years—his girls, his classroom, his high school—he’d been the one people came to. The girls depended on him to have a plan—“What’s for dinner, Dad? When can we turn the heater on? Can we have a cat—or three?” The students depended on him to have a plan—“What are going to do today, Larx? What’s the assignment, the lab, the lecture?” The teachers depended on him to have a plan for everything—“Where’s the money gonna come from for the field trip? Who’s running snack bar at the basketball game? Who has student activities this year?” All these plans, all the damned activity he’d spent his life immersed in, and he had no plan for this.

“I’m….” He inhaled and exhaled again, trying to clear his mind. “I should just… just take her in. Call the mental health department, take her in for an evaluation. She’s… she’s reasonable. I tell her I’m worried, she says, ‘I’ll put your mind at rest, Daddy!’ and….” He shuddered. “Except it won’t be like that, will it? Because she’ll go in, and they’ll tell her something is wrong, and we both know how this goes. It will get worse—and it will get messy. It always does before a person gets help. And… and she’s lost.”

She was lost and in pain, and Larx didn’t have a plan.

“I don’t have a plan,” he muttered, trying to breathe. Him and Aaron—equals. He had to pull his own weight. Aaron didn’t sign on for this. He’d looked grandfatherhood in the eye without blinking, but this was different. This was Larx’s kid, and she was about to demand a lion’s share of his time, and more than that, if she was going to have this child and not be up to taking care of it, that would put him and Aaron on deck, and that was a whole lot different than being Grandpa, and Larx wasn’t sure he knew what to do with that. Larx was just getting good at captaining the school ship and just getting used to coming home and knowing there was another grown-up there who cared about him and Christiana, and now Kellan, and Larx loved Kirby too, and what was he going to do if Aaron decided to take his kid and his chickens and bail out of this madhouse and—

Aaron’s hands, warm, wide-palmed, and grounding, settled on his shoulders.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly, nuzzling Larx’s temple.

“I…. God help me, Aaron, I don’t have a plan.”

“Of course you don’t.” Aaron wrapped his arms around Larx’s shoulders and pulled Larx back against his wide, strong body. “Who’s got a plan for this? My kid showed up for Christmas wearing Class-A Bitch Body Armor—I didn’t have a plan for that. It took a week and a half to come up with something that wouldn’t result in jail time.”

Larx couldn’t laugh. His brain was chasing around in circles as he tried to put it all into perspective—Olivia, sad and in pain, a wombat boyfriend, a baby on the way—and all he got was an image of an injured wombat, wailing in a hole.

“Daddy!” Christi called from the living room. “Are you guys coming to watch TV?”

“Dad’s having a moment,” Aaron called back. “Start the show without us.”

“Having a moment?” Larx repeated, feeling indignant. “What’s that mean?”

Aaron’s arms tightened. “It means life threw you a curveball and you’re sizing up the pitch before you swing. Now come on. You were telling me something about a student when I called—finish. It might be important.”

Larx grunted, his mind focusing on the conversation.

“Yoshi called her into his office today, and as soon as the door closed behind her, she backed up against it like he was the boogeyman.”

“Yoshi?” Aaron adored Yoshi—but so did Larx, and anybody could see Yoshi was as frightening as his beloved Hello Kitty sticker collection.

“Yeah—so, that’s an alarm. Yoshi has her open the door and sits her down, then sits behind his desk and pulls up her grades, and the first thing he notices is that all the classes she’s suddenly doing not so great in have male teachers. Then he notices that she’s put on a little weight—which girls do—but it’s in the breasts, and her chin is rounded, and in the middle.”

“Uh-oh,” Aaron said, because these were pretty obvious tells.

“Right? And then Yosh asks if there’s a reason her grades went down, and he thinks she’s going to break down. He’s fully prepared for her to lose her shit on him, but she doesn’t. She stands up and says her stepdad’s ex-law enforcement, and he says she doesn’t have to answer any of Yoshi’s questions.”

Aaron blinked. “Uh… is he?”

“Sort of,” Larx told him. “He’s done security for things like the fairgrounds or rock concerts—apparently he has a Taser and a badge, and she seems to hate both things. But Yoshi doesn’t lose his cool—that’s why he took her when I got Jaime Benitez—”

Larx blinked.

“Hey—do you and Kirby have old snow boots we can give him and his brother? They’re new here and sort of on a shoestring and—”

“Not a problem,” Aaron said, sounding unfazed and rock-solid and totally normal, draped over Larx’s back as Larx leaned against him. “Both of us do. We usually give to the charity drive, but we weren’t sure if Kellan needed a pair, and then we got him some for Christmas, remember?”

“Yeah,” Larx said, one thing falling off his list and—maybe—making room for his What to do about Olivia list. “That would be great. Before we go to bed, could you guys put them in a bag by the door, along with—”

“Coats and any long johns we might have. I hear you. Are you having these kids over for dinner?”

Finally Larx’s desperation lifted a little. “Yoshi said the same thing.”

“Mm… that’s because we know you, Principal Larkin, and once you take a kid under your wing, they’re protected from the elements for life. So, if I promise to get the boots for Jaime, will you tell me what you and Yoshi decided to do about Candace? She’s clearly being abused by someone in her life….”

“We think it’s the stepfather, but yeah.” Larx and Yoshi had come to the same conclusion. “And she might even be pregnant—which is awful enough, but she’s scared, and she’s not talking. So we called the school psychologist to come talk to her tomorrow, and she’s going to get pulled out of class again, and we’ve called social services so they can be there for the interview—but it’s going to be messy, and her sister is going to need to be removed from the home, and the CPS office is about thirty miles away, so we can only hope they get here tomorrow before school is out, especially if the sister is involved. So Yoshi let her leave his office thinking that was the end of it—he was just worried about her grades, but tomorrow—” Larx shuddered.

“Yeah.” Aaron’s lips cruised the back of his neck. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hard,” he said softly. “And then Olivia is going to get home, and it’s going to be harder.” He kissed the join of Larx’s shoulder then—with an open mouth.

Larx’s brain shut down. Shut. Down.

The Olivia thing, which had been churning in his stomach for three days, was tabled. She was with her wombat now, and he couldn’t fix it. The Candace thing, which had sat like a stone on his shoulders, was tomorrow’s nightmare—still difficult, but Larx had made a dozen phone calls, and he and Yoshi had planned for half a dozen scenarios. They were as prepared as they were going to get.

Aaron had plans to put boots at the door, so Jaime and his brother might not freeze to death during the dreariest month of the year.

Dinner was done. The dishes were dry.

And his entire body was telling him he had a different agenda.

He moaned breathily.

Aaron turned him around and, by bending his knees a little, tucked his hands into Larx’s back pockets.

“Go upstairs,” he whispered into Larx’s ear. “We’re going to watch TV in your room until the kids bang on our door and tell us good night. Can you deal with that, Principal?”

Larx had to fight tears. “Yes. Oh God, yes.”

Aaron’s throaty laughter actually gave Larx wood. “And then we’ll do something where saying ‘Yes, oh God, yes,’ is a requirement.”

Larx buried his face against Aaron’s throat. “I… I… uh….”

“It’s okay, Larx. You don’t have a plan for once. Well, for once I’ve got a plan. It’ll do until you get a better one. How’s that?”

Larx nodded hopelessly. “It’s good. I like this plan.”

“Good. Go put on your pajamas. I’ll round up boots and calm the troops.”

Larx practically whimpered as he beat a retreat upstairs. He was in bed under the covers, flipping moodily through channels, when Aaron came in and started getting ready for bed. Lucifer was on, which is what the kids were watching downstairs, so he settled in for that, relaxing even more when Aaron crawled in next to him. For long, soul-drugging moments he did nothing but follow the television and run his palm dreamily over Aaron’s mildly furry chest, stopping every now and then for a desultory pinch of the nipples.

Aaron’s indrawn breaths started to get harsher, and Larx—whose brain had been pleasantly off—began to remember that his body could be very much “on.”

The show continued, and Aaron began to trace his fingertips very gently down the side of Larx’s bare arm.

Larx’s turn for the indrawn breath to mean more than just oxygen.

Moment by moment, touch by slow, teasing touch, the storm brewed between them. The show ended, and they locked eyes, both of them listening to the sounds below.

The TV shut off; Kellan fed the cats, calling “Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss!” which was a phrase he’d brought himself and they both found endearing. Kirby let Dozer out for a run, and at the sound of the back door sliding open and Kirby calling to the dog and cursing the cold, Aaron lowered his head to Larx’s neck and began a slow lick to his collarbone.

Larx started to shake, the desire in his stomach exploding to now just that fast.

Christiana—it must have been—turned off the lights, locked the front door, and called Dozer in, because he didn’t obey Kirby worth a damn.

Then… oh then… they heard all three kids on the stairs, calling, “Night, guys! Night, Dad! Night, Daddy! Night, Aaron!” in a soft chorus.

Aaron pulled his head back, and he and Larx both said, “Night, guys! Sleep tight!” through the door.

Aaron ducked his head again, this time aiming for Larx’s nipple.

Larx pulled in another harsh breath, knotting his fingers in Aaron’s thick blond hair and kneading, slowly kneading, at Aaron’s rhythmic tugs.

The hall light disappeared under their door and Christiana’s door closed, and Aaron surged upward, claiming Larx’s mouth with aggression.

Larx answered back the same way.

They couldn’t be loud. The kids weren’t asleep just yet; the house was still in the breathless quiet of lights-out. But all Larx wanted to do was devour the man in his bed, eat him alive, take him into his soul.

Aaron apparently felt the same way, but Aaron was a man of action. He shoved at Larx’s waistband until his shorts slid down and without finesse wrapped his hand around Larx’s erection. After a few terrible moments of fumbling with Aaron’s briefs, Aaron unfurled in Larx’s hand, hardening, thick, and oh, hot. So hot.

They moaned into each other’s mouths and squeezed in tandem, both of them stroking, bucking against the other, the soft rustling of the covers and their hushed, ragged breathing the only sounds in the room.

And still they kissed. Aaron’s tongue in his mouth fed his soul; Aaron’s hard chest against his other hand kept him grounded, grounded and sane when the rest of the world felt like it was spinning beyond control. And still that silky, hard grip on his cock—augh!

They both started bucking in rhythm, and Larx’s precome spilled, scalding and slippery, making Aaron’s grip on him a delirium of pleasure and pressure. Aaron whimpered and Larx felt him, just as hot, just as slick, spurting into Larx’s fist.

Close. They were so close.

The kiss never faltered, never failed, and together they stroked and thrust, rocketing toward a quick and dirty climax, shuddering with desire ramped slowly, relieved quick.

Larx’s hit first, and he bucked hard, letting out a soft whine, a chuff of air into Aaron’s mouth, and then Aaron did the unthinkable.

He moved, taking Larx’s cock into his mouth and presenting Larx with his own. Larx had it down his throat just as Aaron swung his leg over Larx’s head, and the feeling of the crown, already spitting come, shoving down his throat caused his climax to roar like wildfire, taking control of his limbs with it.

Aaron’s spill of spend in his mouth was salty and bitter and everything Larx had craved without knowing it when he’d gone up to bed that night.

He swallowed as fast and as hard as he could, smiling to himself as Aaron’s leg lowered, resting limply on Larx’s ear.

Larx gave his cock one more long, leisurely slurp and sighed happily when Aaron did the same.

“We should probably move,” Aaron murmured.

“This could get awkward if we fall asleep this way,” Larx agreed.

Aaron was the one who shifted back, and they both pulled up their underwear in the general reshuffling of people and blankets. Just when they were about situated again, Dozer gave a soft whine and a scratch at the door, so Larx had to get up and let him in, closing the door behind him.

He crawled back into bed, made sure his phone was set up to charge, set an alarm, and then snuggled back into Aaron’s arms.

“Aaron?”

“Mm?”

“I’m glad we did that.”

“Me too.”

“I mean… the world’s still really confusing—but that?”

“Felt really good.”

“Yeah. Made it all better.”

Aaron chuckled, insufferably pleased with himself—but deserving of bit of pride. “’s my job, Principal.”

“You’re good at it, Deputy.”

“Love you, Larx.”

“Love you back.”

Larx’s eyes closed against the darkness, and for a moment—a very brief moment—he was at peace.

 

 

AARON’S BODY wrapped around Larx’s like a giant bear rug, and Larx didn’t want to move, but there was the noise… the insistent noise. Not the alarm, the other thing. That… thing. Larx batted at the thing and grabbed it, pulling it to his ear and poking at it futilely.

“S’op,” he muttered.

Aaron took it from his hand and hit the right flashing light, holding it up to his ear so he could talk.

“S’Larxwho’reyou?”

“Principal Larkin?”

The voice was young, breathless, and frightened, and Larx struggled against the blanket of sleep that bound him so tightly. “Ulhn, Jaime?” Yah! A name! That was a triumph!

“Yeah, sir. This is Jaime Benitez—you remember me?” There was something wrong with the kid’s voice—it was tight and it stuttered.

Like the kid’s teeth were chattering.

“I ’member you,” Larx slurred. “Why you cold?”

“’Cause that girl,” Jaime whispered and chattered. “She came back. She came back and went to hide in my shed, and I remembered what you said and tried to circle around and go in the house.”

Larx tried hard to focus.

They’d had plans for Candace and her sister that morning. The school psychologist, CPS, the whole nightmare of investigating to see if the girls—or Candace alone—were being sexually abused in their own home.

They hadn’t told Candace that, of course. They’d just sent her back to her room—but then, maybe her stepdad didn’t need any more than that. Maybe he’d come after her because she’d been pulled out of class. Oh Lord.

Larx swung his feet out of bed, suddenly awake. “Jaime, where are you?”

“In the woods,” he chattered. “Beyond the cabin. I’m freezing. But she’s in the shed, and some guy banged on the front door of the house and he’s yelling at Berto and… he can’t yell at Berto, Mr. Larkin. Berto—he’s not so good with people yelling.”

Larx tried not to moan, just in sympathy. “Hang on there, Jaime. Me and Sheriff George, we’re on our way—we’ll call someone else too. Help’s coming—I swear it. Help’s coming.”

“Okkkay—what should I do?”

Larx had pulled on yesterday’s jeans by then and was working on a hooded sweatshirt to go under his fleece-lined flannel jacket. “Does the shed have any hiding spots?” Larx didn’t want this kid in the middle, but the danger of freezing to death in the next hour was very real.

“Yeah. A couple—it’s even got a cot.”

“Go there—I know what I said about staying away from Candace, but you can’t stay outside. Knock softly on the door and tell her you need to hide too. And then both of you hide. Stay away from the windows, don’t let her stepdad see you, and don’t come out until you hear us, okay?”

“Got it,” he whispered. “I’m going in now—I gotta. I won’t be able to move in a minute.”

“Okay. Keep the line open, but put the phone in your pocket, okay? That way we can hear what’s going on but you have your hands.”

“Thanks, Mr. Larkin. Come quick, okay?”

Larx had his hand on the door and looked up in time to see Aaron—dressed in tomorrow’s uniform, freshly pressed—lacing his boots and damned near ready to go.

“As quick as we can,” he vowed, and then he put the phone in his own pocket so he could get his boots.

Before he trotted downstairs, he knocked softly on Christiana’s door. “Christi? Sweetheart?”

“Daddy?”

He opened her door. “Honey, somebody needs our help. Aaron and I are going out to make sure he’s okay—could you start some coffee and some hot chocolate, just in case? Put the chocolate in a thermos and then go back to bed, but it sure could come in handy.”

“Yeah, Daddy. You and Aaron be careful.”

“Will do, sweetheart. Thanks for being awesome.”

Her appearance at the door was almost wraithlike, and he tried hard not to startle. “Was taught by the best,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.

As he ran out the door toward Aaron’s SUV, bag of snow boots and extra jackets in hand, he wondered if he’d really taught her anything. He certainly seemed to have let her sister down—he was pretty sure Christiana had learned awesomeness all by herself.

Larx held tensely on to the Praise-Jesus handle while Aaron negotiated the roads. Aaron’s driving skills were impeccable—it was Larx’s knowledge of exactly how treacherous the snow was that made him nervous. That and the fact that Aaron was talking on the radio, calling for Sheriff Mills, his boss, to join him on the small, quasiresidential stretch of road where Candace Furman and her family as well as Jaime and Berto Benitez lived.

Larx held his phone to his ear through most of it—he’d heard Jaime telling Candace that he needed to use the shed too, and then showing her where to hide under the cot, or in the closet. From what he could glean, Candace had taken the cot, and poor Jaime got the closet because he was smaller. But each one of them took a blanket from the cot, and Jaime made sure hers was tucked well and good under the cot, so the shed looked abandoned, and they could both get back to crouching in fear of their lives.

“Eamon’s coming,” Aaron said into the silence. “And he called in two more units. We might be the first one there, but we won’t be without backup.”

“Good,” Larx said. “You guys go take care of Mr. Furman, and I’ll go to the shed and—”

“And stay in the goddamned car,” Aaron snapped. “Jesus, Larx. You’re coming to calm the kids down once we get them. You’re not going in there.”

Larx gaped at him, indignant. “What do you mean, I’m not going in there—he called me for help!”

Aaron cleared his throat. “I’ve got Kevlar, Larx. Specially fitted—for me. I do not have a vest for you. I know you want to help the kids, baby, but you can’t help them if you get gunned down. You told Christiana you’d be back. I’m not letting this play out any other way.”

Larx gaped at him for a moment, trying to separate his urgency from his common sense—and it was rough going for a minute. He wanted to help, dammit.

But Aaron was trained. Aaron had a gun and a Taser at his hip, and Kevlar and a tactical pen and probably three other things Larx didn’t know about.

“Unless I’m needed,” Larx said after a moment, and the entire SUV lightened with Aaron’s sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you in,” he said.

“Or, you know, something obvious, and the kids need me.”

“Larx!”

“I’m not running out into the middle of a firefight and shouting, ‘Hey, hit me! Hit me!’” Larx defended. “I hate guns!”

“Do I have to remind you—”

“And besides, do you remember when you almost got run over?”

“You got shot!”

“You’ve gotten shot before!” Larx sallied, wondering when this had become something they should have bonded over.

“And do you know why I wasn’t dead? Because I had Kevlar! And do you know why you weren’t dead?”

Larx grimaced. “Pure dumb luck?”

“Pure dumb luck.” Aaron pronounced the words like a prison sentence. Which they apparently were. Larx was being sentenced to the SUV until Aaron let him out. For a fulminating moment, Larx remembered he’d spent most of his life bucking authority, but then Aaron slipped and slid up the driveway of Jaime Benitez’s house.

Every light inside was blazing, and to the far right of the house, back against the tree line, sat a small outbuilding, without a single light and no appearance of life. The house—a small, square, plain affair, probably two bedrooms, one bath, a living room, and a kitchen—was lit up in every window, and ominous crashes and raised voices carried through the windows of the SUV.

“Please, Larx,” Aaron said one more time.

Larx grimaced. “Unless I see something,” he promised.

Aaron nodded. “That’s fair. Stay safe.” He paused and smiled faintly before opening his door. “Take care of what’s mine.”

And like that, Larx couldn’t hold his authoritarianism against him. “Backatcha.”

Aaron strode across the snowy yard like nothing could hurt him and he had every right to be there. Larx had to believe in him, right?

Aaron paused at the front door at the moment, then spoke into the radio clipped to his collar. He waited a moment before looking up. Larx saw the red lights flashing across the snowscape and turned in time to see Eamon Mills, Aaron’s boss, sheriff of Colton County, drive up. Aaron waited for Eamon to get out and Kevlar up before knocking on the door.

Larx’s heartbeat roared in his ears for a moment as he realized they suspected the absolute worst in that house.

The door closed behind Aaron, and Larx was stuck watching the shadows ghost over the windows, wondering who was inside.

When he heard voices coming from his pocket, he almost screamed.

“No!” Jaime whispered harshly. “Don’t go out. Larx! Tell us what’s happening, or she’s gonna bolt!”

“Tell her to stay put,” Larx ordered. “Deputy George is in there now.” He watched with relief as Eamon walked through the door, Kevlar on, hand on his weapon.

The next voice was muffled and hysterical. “He’s crazy! He’ll kill them!”

“Stay put!” Larx barked, his hand on the door handle. “Stay put. He doesn’t know where you are. Don’t make yourselves vulnerabl—”

The shot broke the front windshield, and Aaron’s headrest exploded.

Larx spilled out of the SUV, crouching on the ground in the snow, the house at his back and obscured as several shots more split the air.

“Larx!” Jaime cried, and Larx tried desperately to reassure him, looking across the yard at the small shed and hoping—God, hoping—he was doing the right thing.

He was not surprised when the door opened and he saw a figure—warmly dressed, thank God, in a heavy snow parka and boots—burst from the shed and go running into the woods. Larx tried to think, since he couldn’t see in the dark, and his heart fell when he realized she wasn’t going toward the small nest of houses on this little road, but rather back into the woods.

“She’s gone!” Jaime wailed, and Larx snarled, “Lay low, Jaime—get on the ground, under the cot—she’s got gear and you don’t!”

His voice sounded abnormally loud in his own ears, and that’s when he realized the shots had stopped. Keeping low to the ground, grateful for his own snow parka and comfortable, warm fleece-lined boots, he found the worn path between the house and the shed and made his way as quickly as he could, wary of the slippery packed snow underneath his tread.

He got about halfway across the yard when he heard his name and turned.

Sheriff Eamon Mills was in his sixties, African American, with a low, deep voice and a head full of silver to vouch for an eventful, well-lived life. Larx had never seen him look worried—until now.

“Larx—he’s hit. He’s down. Shooter is secured, ambulance is coming, but boy, he’s asking for you.”

Larx’s brain fogged out for a moment.

He was still standing there, blinking, when Eamon said it again. “Larx, he’s got his vest on, but he needs you.”

Larx nodded and started back toward the house, his entire body cold. Jaime’s whimper through his pocket brought him back to earth with a thump.

“The girl ran off,” he said. They need you calm. They need you calm. They need you calm. “Jaime’s under the bed—is Berto—?”

“He’s fine.”

“He’s fine,” Larx told his pocket. “Jaime, Berto’s fine.”

Jaime’s hysterical sobs told them both that the boy was not okay, even if his brother was.

“I’ll have an officer get him,” Eamon said, patting Larx’s back and pulling him into the room. “We’ve got about two minutes before there’s more help here than we know what to do with.”

Larx grunted and looked inside.

And tried not to throw up.

In the corner of the room, a man lay handcuffed—and dead, judging by the blood pool underneath him. Mr. Furman, the evil stepfather—probably—but Larx didn’t care. Aaron sprawled in the far corner from him, slumped with his back against the wall, his legs out, eyes closed. A picture of the ocean in a shattered frame sat next to him, and he had an emerging goose egg on his forehead, with a tiny trickle of blood, but his Kevlar was squashed against his stomach, flattened, and he was having trouble breathing.

Larx fell to his knees next to him as Eamon squatted next to the slightly built young man in the corner of the room who was rocking himself back and forth and whimpering.

“Eamon, he’s… he’s under treatment for PTSD,” Larx said, waiting until Eamon looked at him and nodded.

That’s all Larx needed before turning back to Aaron.

“Jesus,” he muttered, stroking Aaron’s cheek with his knuckle. “That was not how this night was supposed to go.”

Aaron grimaced. “Does this mean… the wedding’s… off?”

“You need to propose to me first, asshole!” Larx snapped, furious—and even more so when Aaron grinned weakly.

“See? Now you’re pissed, right? Not—” He caught his breath, and Larx knew enough about Kevlar to know he had cracked ribs, possibly some internal bleeding, and maybe even a punctured lung. “Not thinking I’m dead.”

Larx squeezed his hand. “If you were dead, I really would be pissed,” he said, fighting for his own breath. “If you were dead, I’d be… I’d be….” He started to shake, angry all over again, because he hadn’t even been shot and this felt like going into shock and he wasn’t going to do that when Aaron needed him. “I have to tell your kid you got shot, goddammit. I have to do that. You had better be fucking okay.”

Aaron nodded soberly. “You’ll take good care of him till I’m home. Trust you.”

“Your dog will never forgive me.” The sob surprised him. He wasn’t that guy—not the guy who cried in a crisis. But this hurt—his chest was on fire, and he was a deep breath away from vomiting fear and grief all over the ground. He took the deep breath and viciously suppressed the urge to lose his shit.

“Who took care of the bad guy?” he asked, in an effort to not talk about their home, their happiness, the things they held most dear. “Just so I know.”

Aaron grimaced. “Eamon. Motherfucker had his gun out. I was talking him down, and I don’t know. Just fired. Out of nowhere. Eamon took him down.”

“Good,” Larx said fiercely. “Better him than you.”

“Kids?” Aaron took another gasp. “How’re kids?”

“Jaime’s fine.” Larx heard noises and looked up in time to see paramedics rush into the room. Aaron gasped again, and this time some blood trickled out on the exhale. Time to get him looked at. Fixed. There is no other option. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. There is no other option.

“Over here,” he called, putting a little bit of cop in his voice when he could have sworn he had none. “That guy’s gone. This guy’s got a punctured lung and possibly some internal bleeding. You’re going to have to cut the Kevlar off, but you may want to wait until you’re at the hospital—oh.” Larx stared at the girl who had doctored his arm in the fall, suddenly adrift. “Mary-Beth.” She’d been one of his students six years ago, and now he was having trouble thinking of her as an adult, an adult who would take his lover—his Aaron—and make sure he was okay. “Mary-Beth. He’s… he’s bleeding. His lung….”

“Sure thing, Mr. Larkin,” the girl said. Small, powerfully built, with blonde hair back in a no-bullshit ponytail, she ventured in first, one hand carrying her field kit, the other hand behind her as she guided the wheeled stretcher in. “You’ve got to move, okay? We’re gonna take good care of him, okay?”

She’d been there. She knew about them. The whole world knew, but she knew.

“Aaron, I’ll be there, okay? I’ll be in the ambulance—”

“Larx,” Eamon called. “I’m going to need your help with this boy and the girl from your school.”

Larx closed his eyes and almost—almost—dropped the weight of the world he and Aaron agreed to carry on their shoulders side by side.

“No…,” he whimpered.

Aaron had the nerve—the motherfucking audacity—to roll his eyes. “Ambulances suck. You’ll be there at the hospital after surgery. When they tell you I’m a big baby and I get a week off.”

He coughed then, and more blood, and Mary-Beth took Larx gently by the elbow and pulled him aside. “He’ll probably go straight into surgery when we get there, Mr. Larkin. By the time you get his kid and get to the hospital, he’ll be out.”

He nodded. “We’ll be there when he’s out.”

And then she and her coworkers got to work.

Larx watched anxiously as they slid Aaron onto a backboard and then lifted the backboard onto the gurney, and listened, underneath it all, to his labored breathing, and even as the fear oh God oh God oh God oh God tried to seep into his heart, his bones, freezing him to the ground, filling his head with every possible grief, he became increasingly aware of the chaos around him.

“Go, baby,” Aaron choked. “I’ll be fine.”

Larx nodded and wiped his face. “You’d better be,” he warned, even as they hustled him away. They had him out the door before Larx could make himself turn to Eamon.

“What—Jaime.” He swallowed. “Jaime. You’re okay?”

The boy looked worse for the wear—body shaking, lips almost blue—but he launched himself into Larx’s arms without words, and Larx pulled the boy into his hug with sublime gratitude. He had someone to take care of, and he might just be able to pull his shit together.

He needed to pull his shit together.

Aaron needed him to pull his shit together. His entire family needed him to pull his shit together.

Helping this kid might just help him do that.

But sometimes helping someone meant letting them go.

Berto wouldn’t come out from the corner of the room. No amount of coaxing on Jaime’s part could persuade him that Larx was a good guy and that the world was safe again.

Larx whispered in his ear, “Jaime—does Berto have any medicine he can… you know, eat?”

Jaime grimaced. “No—that shit’s expensive, and we don’t know how to make our own yet.”

Dammit—the boy had said that yesterday. Larx took a deep breath and tried to think—but Aaron was the best part of his brain and Yoshi wasn’t here and—

“Berto,” he said, putting his back against the wall and sliding down next to Jaime’s brother. “I’m going to call Tane—would you like to stay with him?”

Berto probably had Jaime’s delicate, porcelain-doll features once—until his nose had been pummeled sideways and his cheeks scarred with brutal blows. The look he sent Larx was desperate. “Yeah. I…. Tane and I get along,” he whispered. “I… I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and trembled. “I don’t know you. Jaime says you’re nice, but I don’t know you… and I hate….” His breath caught. “God, I hate hospitals.”

Larx nodded. “I’m going to get hold of Tane’s, uh, friend—”

“Yoshi?” Berto said wistfully. “’Cause Tane talks about him. I… I wanted to meet him, ’cause Tane doesn’t talk about anybody.”

“Yeah. Yoshi’s my best friend in the world—you know how I know he’s my best friend?”

Berto shook his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “How?”

“’Cause he’s gonna call me a prick before the end of this phone conversation. Want to bet on it?”

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of Berto’s mouth. “Not for any money.”

Larx nodded. “Can I squeeze your shoulder?” he asked, very conscious that Berto’s stress levels might be way too high for that.

“I… I miss touch,” Berto mumbled.

Larx put his arm gently around the young man’s shoulder and pulled out his phone. “Yoshi?” he said when the receiver clicked.

“Larx? You prick! Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yoshi, I’m going to need you to wake Tane up. And I might need your car too.” Suddenly the good feeling, the drive he had from helping out Berto and Jaime disappeared, and he was left with the hollow ache in his chest that Aaron was not where he was supposed to be. “Yosh, Aaron’s in the hospital, and his SUV is sort of shot up, and Berto Benitez needs Tane and I need a ride. How fast can you get to Berto’s house?”

“Tane! Yes, now! Jesus Christ, get your ass in gear!”

Larx pulled the phone away from his ear as Yoshi raged and apparently threw on every warm thing he had. By the time he got back on the phone again—judging from their noises—Yoshi and Tane were on the way over.

“Five minutes,” Yoshi said tensely into the phone. “We’re taking separate cars—Tane’ll get Berto and Jaime, I’ll get you.”

“Please,” Berto whispered in Larx’s ear. “I’m a mess. Don’t let Jaime see me like this.”

Larx nodded. He knew that feeling too. “Yosh, we’ll take Jaime to my house so I can fetch Kirby and take him to the hospital, okay? Does that work? Do we have a plan?”

Jaime and Berto both nodded at him, and he wanted to laugh. He had a plan, it was great—and it was all a lie.

Because Aaron—goddammit, Aaron wasn’t there.

 

 

TANE PAVELLE didn’t look a thing like his sister.

Nancy was a plump, rosy-cheeked fortyish soccer mom who taught biology at Colton High—she, Yoshi, and Larx had been the three cynical musketeers pretty much since Larx had moved to Colton. She had a wicked smile, a sharp tongue, and a way of making the most dire situations a matter of simple tactical planning.

While she’d been going to college and planning lessons and cutting her teeth at an inner-city school before she and her husband moved up to Colton, her little brother had been going out, getting high, and getting into trouble with the law.

Tane had cleaned up since then—served his time, come out, started working as an artist—and, of course, met Yoshi.

When Nancy had moved up to Colton, Tane had followed her, and when Tane had moved up, Yoshi had followed him. Yoshi had never disclosed the details of that move, but Nancy had told him once, after graduation, when they’d all had just a beer too many out at Larx’s house. Apparently when Tane had moved, he’d expected Yoshi to take the quick way out of Tane’s life, and Yoshi had simply showed up on his doorstep, suitcases in hand, saying, “I got a stupid job at your sister’s stupid high school, so we might as well live together because I can’t live without you.”

On the one hand, it was the most romantic fucking thing Larx had ever heard.

On the other, it was so very Yoshi.

They had lived together, quietly, for the last six years, and until the tumultuous events of the past autumn, Larx and Nancy had been two of maybe five people who knew Tane and Yoshi were even roommates.

But after Yoshi had come out—very publicly—Tane had gotten a little less… intense. Larx had seen him at the staff Christmas party. He’d even been granted a smile.

A midsized man, rail thin, with skin baked brown by sun and kiln, Tane’s uncombed white-blond hair looked almost supernatural compared to the rest of his complexion. He was missing a top molar on each side, and when he gritted his teeth like he did when he was displeased, the effect was almost chilling.

But when Yoshi spoke, his razor-thin face relaxed infinitesimally and he looked, somehow, like he could find a modicum of peace.

Tane wasn’t smiling or at peace tonight.

He stormed into the little house, blazing with lights and filled with law enforcement personnel, Yoshi at his heels. They spotted Larx and Berto in the corner of the room with precision.

“Berto,” Tane said, voice gruff from yelling over the roar of the kiln and not dealing with people—but not from unhappiness with the young man on the floor next to Larx. “How you doing?”

“Guy just barged in here,” Berto said, not looking at him—or anyone. “Looking for his sister. Shot the deputy. The nice one. Got taken out.”

His eyes darted to the coroner’s team, who was zipping Berto’s attacker up in a body bag. “Right here. Got blood all over my rug, Tane. I can’t… can’t fucking deal!”

Tane nodded and reached into his pocket for something; then his eyes darted around the room, and he grimaced. He sank down in front of Larx and Berto, nudging Larx’s knee.

“I got gummis,” he said quietly. “One of these’ll chill him out enough to get him out of the house, but we need to not catch any flak for it.”

Larx was pretty sure Eamon wouldn’t give a flying fuck—but Percy Hardesty and Warren Coolidge had been partnered together this night. Warren wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t bright, and he tended to follow the lead of anyone he was with. Percy was an asshole, pure and simple, and he was likely to raise a bloody stink if he knew they were giving edibles—no matter how legal—to a cooperating witness.

Especially one with the last name of Benitez who had come up from the big city with a rap sheet.

Larx squeezed Berto’s shoulder and murmured in his ear. “Tane’s going to help you, okay? I’m going to make sure nobody gives you shit.”

He pushed up on Tane’s shoulder because he was tired and worried and his body hurt, and then he called Eamon and Yoshi over to where he stood, their legs a forest of protection from prying eyes.

“So you brought your own car?” he asked Yoshi, almost hoping that no, Yoshi had come in Tane’s old Explorer and he wouldn’t have to be a passenger as Yoshi—who had been born and raised in the Bay Area with no snow whatsoever—tried to negotiate the roads outside.

“Yes, Larx, the Escort is outside.” Yoshi rolled his eyes to let Larx know his fear for his life wasn’t appreciated in the least.

“We need to go get Kirby,” Larx said, very aware of Tane making the hand-off behind him and hoping all the other activity in the room masked the sound of the cellophane. “And settle Jaime with Christi and Kellan.” Larx closed his eyes and tried not to think of Aaron, alone in the hospital while he was triaged and assessed for surgery with nobody there for him. “And we need social services for Candace Furman—”

Eamon shook his head. “Sorry, Larx. We couldn’t find her. I know you’ve got other things on your mind, but it’s dumped about four inches of snow in the last half hour. Whatever tracks she left—”

“She’s not a very big girl,” Larx muttered, voice dead in his chest.

“Yeah—they’re covered by now. We’re going to have to get dogs up here and conduct a house-to-house looking for her. You need to get on your way.”

Larx closed his eyes. “On his way” meant getting closer to Aaron, and that was the one place he wanted to be.

“Yeah,” he croaked through a dry throat. “Can Jaime pack a bag?”

“He did that while you were calming his brother down,” Eamon said softly. “And I think Tane has given him whatever he was going to give him, so you can go now.”

Tane tugged on Larx’s pant leg, so Larx knew that was true.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward Tane and Berto first. “I’ll send him home after he’s dropped me off—”

Tane shook his head and rolled his eyes. “He can crash at your place. You’ll have kids to deal with. He’s good with ’em. Right, Berto?”

Berto gave a smile that only wobbled a little. “Jaime adores him,” he said dreamily.

“All righty then,” Larx murmured. “You ready, Jaime?”

Jaime dropped to his knees and pulled Berto into a hard, fierce hug. Larx didn’t hear what they said—if anything—but he was left in not the slightest bit of doubt that these kids clung to each other in love.

Berto was the one who turned away, looking at Larx in mute appeal. “Take him… I… I can’t….”

Larx reached for the young man’s shoulder as he stood, devastated, and took a deep breath. “Eamon, we’ve got to go,” he said, voice shaky. “Aaron’s SUV got… uh… decommissioned—you may need to have it towed.”

Eamon tilted his head, an expression of outrage on his face. “You were in that thing when it happened?”

Larx shuddered, numb to it now. It had been terrifying, right up until Eamon had told him Aaron was down.

“Not for long,” he said. “Yoshi—the Escort?”

“We can have someone run you over in a unit,” Eamon told him gently. “Yoshi’s Escort—”

“Won’t have flashing lights and a strange officer to tell Kirby his dad is hurt,” Larx said brutally. “We’ve got to go—now—and I need to tell my kids.” He felt it pushing at him. Kirby’s fear, the thing he’d had to live with. Christiana and Kellan, who hadn’t done this before, who might be strangers to the kind of strength they would need.

Eamon nodded slowly. “I’ll see you at the hospital, Larx—”

Larx shook his head. “Tell me when you find Candace?”

Eamon’s grimace spoke volumes. He was the man in charge—and for a moment, he’d forgotten too. “I’ll keep you apprised,” he said shortly. “You do the same. He’s my boy too.”

Deep breath. Nod. Deep breath. Step. It was how Larx made it to the SUV to pull out the snow gear for Jaime. He handed the boy the parka, which he put on wordlessly as they trudged to Yoshi’s small car, looking forlorn in the snow. Jaime crawled into the back and burrowed into the jacket.

“So are you going to be there, Mr. Larkin?” Jaime asked, voice shaking. “You said you were going to the hospital—”

“I’ll stay at the house,” Yoshi said as he started his crawl through the deepening drifts of snow. He had good tires—and heavy chains—and Larx knew he didn’t take snow lightly. In the back of his mind, Larx wondered when he’d realized he loved Tane enough to move to a place with snow.

“Really?” Jaime asked, his voice full of wonder. “You know Mr. Larkin’s house?”

Larx had to laugh. “Mr. Nakamoto is my bestie,” he said fondly. “The dog loves him almost as much as it loves Aaron…. Deputy George—”

“Aaron,” Jaime said softly. “I hope he’s okay. Berto looked….” He started to wobble. “He looked really bad, Mr. Larkin. I’m glad he had a friend there to take over, but… but I really miss my brother.”

Larx pulled in a deep breath and tried to remember the things he’d told Aaron back when he’d been hurt. “I know you do. You guys have a lot of love between you. You’ll feel that at our house. And someone will stay with you—Mr. Nakamoto, yes, but Christiana and Kellan may too. We’ll switch off, I’m sure.” Larx thought restlessly about how long it would take to get through triage and be X-rayed and whether or not he’d have a chance to see Aaron before surgery. “I… my other daughter is staying at the hospital with a friend. Don’t worry. The house will have people.

“I should call his daughters,” Larx mumbled, and then, “No. No. Tiff still hates me. She’ll need to hear it from Kirby. We’ll see how surgery goes. Fuck. I wish she didn’t hate me.” He’d been okay with it during Christmas—he’d figured, hell, four out of five was damned good odds, and he was going to take Maureen and Kirby’s affection and call it a win. But Aaron was hurt, and he’d want to talk to his kids, and it would be really rockin’ if his daughter didn’t make that horrible. Please, let her make it not worse than it is.

“Larx,” Yoshi said sharply, and Larx wondered how long he’d been sitting, eyes closed, mumbling about Aaron’s oldest daughter and her unreasoning hatred. “Larx, we’re here.”

Larx opened his eyes and turned to Jaime as they got out. “You and Yoshi get the couch,” he said with a small smile. “Hope you brought PJs.” Then, “Fuck, Yosh—we were going to give Berto boots, and I just brought the bag with me, and you’re going to have to have Tane come and get them and—”

“Larx!”

Larx’s head snapped back like Yoshi had slapped him.

“Look, Larx, I know you’re trying to hold it together here, but I’m going to give you a little hint. You can’t do it if you hold everything. You got me and Jaime here. Achievement unlocked. Now go talk to your kids, and we’ll figure shit out from there. He’s going to be all right, okay? He’s got to be, because I can’t believe otherwise and neither can you. So go in there and deal with your family, and we’ll get Berto his snow boots some other time.”

Larx smiled faintly. “You’re good at this, Yosh. You should have had kids.”

“Why would I want kids when I get to raise you? Now go. Be a grown-up. We’ll be right behind you.”

Larx had enough presence of mind to calm the dog down as he opened the door. Dozer, used to Aaron getting late-night calls sometimes, was well-behaved when he greeted the strangers. Jaime, exhausted and scared and sad, pretty much sat down just inside the entryway and wrapped his arms around Dozer’s neck and took the ever-present tongue full in the face.

Well, therapy was cheap and easy if you didn’t mind walking it in the snow to poop.

Larx’s house was so familiar that his feet made his way to Kirby’s room before his mind knew what he was doing. But then he got there, and all the lessons of the past year hit him, and he realized they needed to do this thing as a group or not at all.

He knocked on all the doors in turn. “Guys. Guys, I need you up. Come out into the hall, family meeting. It’s important.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—grudging teenagers, irritated frumpiness, clueless innocence—but all three of these children had known loss and fear.

None of them took a full night’s sleep for granted.

They gathered around him, rubbing sleep out of their eyes and staring at him, sober and attentive. Christi had haunting dark eyes and dark hair like Larx’s late sister, and Kirby looked like his mother, with pale brown eyes and pretty oval of a face, but with hair a little blonder. Kellan was smaller than they were but with broad shoulders and hazel eyes—together, they made his heart swell.

His kids.

His family.

“Guys,” he said, keeping his voice steady, “Aaron is going to be okay, but there was an incident, and he’s in the hospital right now. I’m going to take Kirby with me, and you two can come too if you want—”

“Of course we want,” Christi said, lower lip wobbling. “Aaron? He’s going to be okay?”

Larx nodded, strengthened because he needed to reassure her. “He was wearing his Kevlar, but he took one at close range. Nothing penetrated, but—”

“Broken ribs,” Kirby said, his voice mechanical. “Possible punctured lungs and internal bruising or maybe bleeding. He may need surgery.”

“He’s probably in surgery already,” Larx said, stomach knotting with the worry, with the hurry he’d put on hold so he could be everybody else’s grown-up.

Kirby blinked as though coming out of a trance. “You’ll be there, right, Larx?”

Larx wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him in like he would Christi. “Course. Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Go get dressed in a minute, but first.” He turned to the others. “Guys, there’s a boy downstairs. Yoshi’s with him, so if you decide to come with us to see Aaron, he’ll be okay. But his brother saw the whole thing, and his brother’s not okay. Berto’s with Tane, trying to calm down, but Jaime’s had sort of a crappy night. Even if you come with me, you need to say something nice to him. Welcoming, okay?”

“He can sleep in my room,” Kellan said quietly. “I’ll get dressed and show him where it is. He can borrow my clothes too—I know him. He’ll be okay with me.”

Larx ruffled his hair and then pulled him into a hug. “You’re so awesome. Do that. We’ll meet downstairs in five. I want to get there when they know about surgery.”

Kirby reluctantly disengaged from the hug, and Christiana rushed in. “Daddy?” she said, lip still wobbling. “Daddy, he is going to be okay, right?”

Larx nodded. “Yeah, baby. He’s got to be. Look at us. I mean, you and me thought we were doing fine, but look how much we needed an Aaron in our lives, right?”

She nodded back, her chin crumpling. “I’ll go get dressed and show Jaime where the cat food is and tell him about the chickens. Is he going to school tomorrow?”

Larx shook his head. “No. And we all might not either. Olivia’s got your car, so you guys can come back after we know for sure what’s going on.”

Christi’s usually open expression grew irritated. “Is she going to be happier now that her boyfriend is here?”

Larx sighed. “No. I think… I think she’s been really sad for a long time, hon. I think the boy might help, but there’s going to be a lot more to go.”

Christi let out a grunt. “Well, I hope she can get her shit together, Dad. I mean… I’m always glad to see her, but she’s starting to piss me off.”

Larx let out a little bit of a laugh. “You sound like Lila,” he said softly, remembering when his late sister used to give him a good kick in the ass. “It means you love your sister very much. Don’t change.”

 

 

LARX TOOK five minutes in his room finding Aaron’s favorite sleep pants and old T-shirt, so he wouldn’t be forced to wear the hospital pajamas, and then rooting around for the paperback he’d been reading before he fell asleep on the nights he didn’t just crash.

As he was lying across the bed, trying to weasel the book out from between the end table and the frame, he inhaled the smell of the two of them: Aaron’s aftershave, his deodorant, the smell of their lovemaking earlier that night.

“Goddammit,” he murmured. “Goddammit, George. You had better fucking be okay.” With a heave and an “Aha!” he loosened the book and fished it out from the tiny space between the bed and the wall.

He scrambled up, made a small bundle of the pajamas and the underwear and the book, and ran downstairs, where his children hadn’t disappointed him in the least.

They were all dressed and pulling on snow boots and grabbing jackets—and giving Jaime last-minute instructions on how to live in their home like family.

“Here,” Christi said, hopping on one foot as she finished getting her boot on. “I’ll show you where all the pet food is. We should be here in the morning, but if we’re not, the big fat furry floofy things are going to be all over you, and Uncle Yoshi hates cats, so you’re going to have to save him.”

“I do not hate them,” Yoshi complained good-naturedly. “They just want to kill me.”

“They love you, Yoshi,” Kirby told him. “They love you so much they want to sleep on your face!”

“True story,” Yoshi said to Jaime. “Go with her. They’ve got stupid mash-eating birds outside that need instructions too.”

“Here’s sleeping bags and stuff,” Kellan said, coming out of the laundry room with his arms loaded. “I’ll make up your bed, but Jaime can sleep in my room. The cats come in sometimes, and he might need them.”

“Go show him where the room is,” Larx said gently, “but don’t be too hurt if he wants to sleep in here with someone familiar.”

Kellan nodded and went trotting off, and Yoshi stopped smiling. “Don’t worry. They all welcomed him—tomorrow won’t be too bad.”

“Someone should be home before you have to leave for school—”

Yoshi gave a humorless shake of his head. “Didn’t you check your phone? Tomorrow’s a snow day—the text went out right before you called me.”

Larx squeezed his eyes shut really tight. “Right before I called you I was watching… uhm… EMTs…” work on Aaron and hustle him off into the night.

“Doh.” Yoshi scowled. “I’m as tactless as the damned kids,” he complained. “So, snow day. We don’t have to worry about anything except—”

“Except Candace Furman wandering around in a fucking blizzard,” Larx said grimly, because while Aaron was sucking up most of his functionality, the part of him that worked for kids was not on complete hold. “Let me….” His voice threatened to break. “Let me see to my family, and then you and me and Eamon will have a talk if they haven’t found her by then.”

Yoshi groaned. “God—Larx, she’s out tonight? It’s freezing out there!”

“She was dressed in snow gear,” Larx told him. “And even more—I think it was survival gear. Like Red Cross or something. In fact….” He looked over toward the sliding glass door, where Christi, Kellan, and Jaime were all herding through. “In fact, if you get a chance to talk to Jaime, see if you can get some info from him about where she might be going, what specifically she was wearing, anything she said. Anything we can give Eamon to help find her—she was running, Yosh. Not sure if she’d planned it or if the school intervention tipped her off, but she was getting the fuck out of Dodge.”

Yoshi nodded. “We’ve got to find her,” he agreed. “But first…?”

“Way ahead of you,” Larx muttered. Then he raised his voice. “Kids, I’m going out to warm up the car. Get your asses in gear, okay?”

Christi burst in through the sliding glass door just as Kirby finished with his impossibly complicated lace-ups.

“Jaime?” Larx called the kid over and put his hands on the boy’s slight shoulders. “Jaime, you’re welcome here. Don’t worry if you forget to feed somebody. Yoshi knows the routine. Someone will be here in the morning, and there’s plenty of food, so make yourself at home. As soon as Yoshi knows something about Berto, he’ll tell you. But I need you to feel safe here, okay? Nobody here will be mad at you if you break a dish or track mud in on the floor. The sheriff knows our house and stops in frequently, so if you see lights, don’t freak out. You can stay here as long as you need to while your house is getting fixed up and Berto is calming down. So relax. Sleep if you can—anywhere you want, bedroom or living room. Yoshi is comfortable here—he’s your friend too. Are we good?”

Jaime nodded and gave Larx a hug because apparently Larx invited that. “Thanks, Mr. Larkin,” he said hoarsely. “Go be with your family. You’ve been a good friend to me and Berto tonight.”

And like that was the blessing he needed, Larx finally made it out the door.