The house was on fire.
That’s what woke me up.
Flames.
Smoke.
Heat.
Oma and I needed to get out.
Except, when I sat up in bed, my chest heaving, my heart thumping, sweat beading on my forehead, everything was dark and quiet. I heard something scurry away. I glanced in the direction of the sound but saw only a shadow slip through the bathroom doorway. Clutching my hand to my chest, I smelled the air, listened for the crackling of a fire. Within the space of heartbeats, it became apparent that I had only had a bad dream. With mild trepidation, I pushed the covers off and slid my legs over the side of the bed.
My feet touched the icy floorboards but I didn’t even wince, instead, I focused all of my energy on other senses. What could I see and smell? The room was pitch black and I could smell nothing—other than how Oma’s house normally smelled. Wood and cinnamon and a faint undercurrent of the lavender cleaner she liked to use when performing the task. I pushed off of the bed gently and stood at my bedside, my head turning slowly, my nose and eyes laser-focused on their assigned tasks.
Nothing.
I was alone and everything was quiet and still. There was no fire. I had merely been dreaming. Nothing more.
Just as I was going to sit back down and slide my legs back under the covers, staving off the frostbite that was threatening my toes, I saw the light. A sickly, eerie green light slithering under the door. Something between a glowstick and radiation beamed from under the door and cast the room in an eerie, putrid glow. My eyes grew wide as I stared at the crack under the door where the green light was coming from. As I watched, the light grew brighter by the second as my eyes grew wider at the sight. Within ten seconds, the room was filled with the color of the light and I had to reach up to shield my eyes in an effort to keep from being blinded.
When I opened my eyes, the sun was rising in the sky and was filling the bedroom with light. I was comfy, cozy, snug as a bug in a rug in bed. I had only been dreaming. I sighed to myself as I pulled the covers more tightly around myself. Spring was looming in the background, but upper Ohio had decided that one more really severe cold snap was necessary before winter would give up the ghost. I shivered slightly, tempted to roll up like a burrito and attempt to go back to sleep. As I rolled to my side in the bed, my phone on the bedside table caught my eye.
Text Lucas and tell him to come over and crawl into bed with you. He’ll make things warmer.
Shaking my head clear of the thought, I gathered up my nerve and got out of bed, wincing and hopping from foot to foot on the icy floorboards. After making the bed and generally straightening up my room, my cell phone stayed in my mind. I wanted to text Lucas. But that wasn’t the right move at this point in our…relationship? I needed to establish boundaries in whatever it was we had going on. Coming off as overly eager or ready to try and fall in love, or hell, even have an actual relationship wasn’t the best move. Well, maybe Lucas would have welcomed such a move, but I wasn’t so sure that it was something that I could commit to at the moment.
But you want to, dumbass.
Okay. So, yeah. I wanted to—for once in my life—jump headfirst into something besides my career and not care what consequences might come my way. Especially with a romantic relationship. As I went into the bathroom and went about my morning routine of getting ready for the day, I couldn’t help but consider my past relationships. I’d literally only dated two guys in my life—and I wouldn’t have categorized either as all that serious. Nice, sure. Serious? No. One was at the beginning of my rise to stardom in the industry, so we all know why that didn’t work out. The other one was a few years before I had come back to Point Worth looking for silence and, love, I guess. It just fizzled out.
Passion is important in a relationship. I hadn’t been passionate about either. The sex had been mediocre, maybe because I hadn’t been that into the guys I’d been dating, but I hadn’t been that interested in sex, truth be told. When I was a teenager, I was pretty sure that I was gay. I had even told Oma that I was gay. I found guys attractive—even wanted to express my appreciation for them physically from time to time. But when I went to Hollywood, and my career started, I found myself less and less interested in guys and sex.
Guys had always been more sexually attractive to me. I had never found a single woman attractive in a sexual way. Beautiful? Hell to the yes. Did I ever want to have sex with a woman? Fuck no. Nothing against women, but guys were my thing. Or, so I’d thought. When I got to Hollywood, started working hard, traveling, becoming Jacob Michaels, I suddenly wasn’t so sure about anything. No. I wasn’t questioning if maybe I was straight or bisexual or something…but maybe asexual? Sometimes the very thought of having sex completely turned me off.
Some of the hottest guys in Hollywood—sexual orientation is always debatable when it comes to a lot of rich and famous people—had tried to get in my pants. It was always a struggle to not throw up a little in my mouth each time. The whole concept of someone wanting to date me or have sex with me because they saw me as this “gorgeous movie-slash-rock star” made the bile rise from my gut and settle at the back of my throat.
That was it, though, wasn’t it? After a long time, I began to realize that I was definitely gay and not asexual. I just couldn’t get sexually aroused by people who wanted to have sex with me because I was Jacob Michaels. I wanted someone to want to be with me and have lots of sex with me because I was Rob Wagner. Or Robert Wagner or, hell, even Robbie Wagner. I wanted someone to want me for me—not all the glitz and glam and things they believed because PR and the media had told them to believe them.
Lucas likes Rob Wagner. A lot.
Was that why I was so drawn to Lucas? He had been attracted to me when I was just Rob Wagner in high school? He didn’t care that I had become a celebrity and famous the world over? He didn’t care that I had played concerts and performed on the most revered and storied stages all over the world. He didn’t care how much I got paid for a single movie. He didn’t care if I had won any awards or knew so-and-so or what kind of car I drove or if I had a big, fancy house. The first question he had asked about my acting career was whether I had gotten to see the Northern Lights while shooting in Finland.
Just invite him over. Nothing has to happen. Nothing has to be assumed.
When I walked down the stairs, my room was in perfect order and I was wearing long underwear, jeans, a t-shirt, sweater, wool socks, and hiking boots. A suitable outfit for a cold Ohio day. Oma would be pleased. In fact, when I walked into the kitchen, hugging my arms around myself, she was at the stove, dressed similarly to myself and making breakfast.
“It’s twenty-damn-degrees in here, Oma,” I grumbled as I went to the fridge for orange juice, then remembering I hadn’t picked any up as promised the day before, frowned as I opened the door.
Orange juice. Oma never failed.
“I turned the damn furnace up ya’ titbag.” She grumbled back with a smile on her face. “I didn’t have it cranked that high because I thought they was lying about this cold front coming in. It’s damn near the end of March and it feels like the beginning of January.”
“You aren’t lying.” I agreed as I poured a glass of juice.
“Now they’re saying we might get one last snow tonight before all is said and done.” She shook her head. “Can you believe that shit?”
“Well…yes.” I laughed as I put the orange juice back in the fridge and poured myself a cup of coffee. “And you shouldn’t have a problem believing it either. You’ve lived here over a hundred years.”
“Sit your ass down at the table before I kick it.” She jabbed a gravy covered spoon at the table with a laugh.
Following her command with a chuckle, I sat down and sipped at my juice, then switched to my coffee. I needed something warm and comforting on such a cold day.
“You know how to start a fire?”
“Are you thinking of arson, or…”
“In a damn fireplace, ya’ idiot.” She rolled her eyes even though she was amused. “I was gonna put a fire in the fireplace after breakfast, but if you know how, I’ll put you to use for once.”
“I can probably figure it out.” I shrugged. “It’s been a minute since I’ve used a real fireplace.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Most the ones I’ve used were gas and turned on with a button or the turning of a knob.”
She waggled her head.
“Now, I’ve made some biscuits, good ole sausage gravy, bacon…”
“Oh, good. Heart attacks all around.”
“…and you’re gonna eat all I give ya’.” She snapped. “You’re still too damn skinny and I don’t want you to look like this come spring. I wanna be able to take you out in public without getting looks. At least, not for the wrong reasons. Also, if you’re going to be tumbling in the sheets with Lucas all the time, you need the extra calories.”
“Ew.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is.” She shrugged. “Besides, the food will help warm ya’ up. Nothing like a thousand calories at breakfast to raise your body temp.”
“I suppose.” I chewed at my lip.
Oma looked over at me with a frown.
“What?”
“Just come out with it, ya’ asshole.” She waved the spoon in the air. “I can tell you got something on your mind. So just say it or ask it or whatever you need to do.”
I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. How was it that Oma could always tell from one thing I said or one look I gave that I had something weighing on my mind? I guess she wouldn’t have been my grandmother if she couldn’t read my behavior.
“It’s nothing really,” I replied. “I just woke up and thought about texting Lucas to invite him over for…I don’t know. No reason. Just to invite him over.”
“So?”
“That just seemed a little odd is all.”
“Robbie,” Oma chuckled, “once you’ve seen a man’s balls, it’s hard to call anything else awkward, right?”
“Oma.”
“Well, hell. If you can see that, you can surely invite a man over for breakfast or coffee or just to have a nice leisurely chat. Not much is more awkward than a ballsack, Robbie.”
“From the owner of a ballsack, and also your grandson, I ask that you never utter the word ‘ballsack’ again in your life.”
“All’s I’m sayin’.” She shrugged. “I mean, you two are…friendly…he’s my friend, he can be invited over without it being weird. I don’t want to see you two going after it, though. My heart couldn’t take that.”
“Oh, you volunteer at the LGBTQ center, but two guys smoochin’ is too scandalous for ya’?” I teased.
“It’s not because it’s two guys, ya’ dipshit. I’m just old and ain’t gettin’ none myself. I don’t need to be reminded that those years are behind me now. Your Oma is dried up like a prune.”
“Ew.”
She waggled her head.
“You could always give Mr. Barkley a call.” I grinned evilly.
“You could always turn that chair over and sit down on it.” She growled.
I laughed.
“Maybe I’ll invite him over, then.” I shrugged as Oma grabbed a plate from the countertop beside her and started making a plate. “He could have lunch with us or something.”
“Text him for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes as she ladled gravy on top of biscuits. “If he ain’t busy and gets over here soon enough he can have some biscuits and gravy.”
“Is there sausage or anything in it?”
Oma looked up suddenly with a smile.
“What?”
“Considering his dietary needs, huh?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“That spells out caring.”
“I can spell other things if you like,” I grumbled.
Rolling my eyes, I reached into my pocket and found nothing. I had left my cell phone upstairs in my room on the bedside table. For a split second, it pained me to not be able to text Lucas and tell him to come have breakfast with us. That thought immediately coming to mind just pissed me off. I was starting to get pissed that my mind would immediately think such a thing so quickly and easily about someone whom I was just…well, I didn’t know what to call the thing Lucas and I had going on, did I? Were we “seeing each other”? “Dating?” “Fucking?”
No. That last one was crude and we definitely cared about each other as people, so “fucking” was reductive. Maybe “friends with benefits” or something? We were definitely becoming friends, if not already friends, and there were definitely benefits to that, so maybe that was the best term. Then again, I wasn’t sure how I truly felt about Lucas. I knew that my body was drawn to his. In fact, every time he popped into my head, I felt aroused. Not physically of course, but I felt that fluttering in my lower abdomen that was a signal that my body was pleased by the thought.
Also, I was irritated with myself that I was being such a whiny little bitch about the whole thing. Maybe I didn’t vocalize every thought I had, but I definitely had some inner turmoil over the entire situation. That was high school type behavior and I just didn’t want to admit that my brain possessed such abilities. Then I’d remember that werewolves were real and Oma was a witch and wonder why I was wasting valuable thoughts on something like whether or not Lucas and I had a real relationship forming.
Andrew. That was a problem.
Why hadn’t I thought about Andrew and that whole situation more since it had happened? No, plainly said, why wasn’t I spending more mental energy on dissecting the new knowledge that Andrew was a werewolf? That werewolves were real? Why hadn’t I thought about going to see Andrew during the light of day to speak to him? I needed to tell him what I thought of him. I needed to ask questions. Ultimately, I needed to let him know that next time I would ask Lucas—or whoever was driving—to back up and hit him again. I needed to have a confrontation with the guy I had been on a date with who had tried to force himself on me and then, I guess, murder and eat me.
What do werewolves do when they attack someone?
Do they just attack the person?
Do they turn them into werewolves?
Do they eat their victims?
What…exactly…had been Andrew’s intent in werewolf form?
Did he even know?
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just use my phone.” Oma rolled her eyes as she slapped the plate of food down in front of me. “Text the boy and get him over here so you can stop frothing at the mouth.”
“That’s not what I was thinking about, Oma.”
My grandmother picked up her phone and tapped on it for a second then set it back down in the same spot.
“There.” She put her hands on her hips. “I texted him for God’s sake.”
“Okay.” I shrugged and picked up my fork. “But that wasn’t what I was thinking about, either way.”
I looked down at my plate and saw that it was completely covered in split in half biscuits, drowning in creamy gravy and slices of bacon to the side. Looking at all of the heavy food made my stomach churn a little. Partly in a good way at the thought of Oma’s delicious cooking, but also from thinking about how my gut would feel an hour after eating it.
“What the hell were you stuck in your head about then?” She asked as she walked over to the stove to make her own plate. “You sure have been thoughtful lately. Wish you’d been like that a decade ago when you packed up and ran off in the middle of the goddamn night.”
“Oma…”
“Oh, just tell me what you was thinking then.” She stopped me.
Oma’s phone dinged. I reached over and looked at the screen.
I’d love to come have breakfast. Be there shortly. That’s what Lucas had responded. He hadn’t even asked what we were serving.
“I think I need to talk to Andrew, right?” I responded as I set Oma’s phone down. “Lucas is coming over.”
“Good,” Oma said. “And why the fuck do you think you need to talk to Andrew? He done messed up. That ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”
Oma filled her plate and came to sit down across from me, immediately grabbing up her fork and cutting off a piece of gravy-laden biscuit. She stuffed the bite in her mouth with a satisfied, nearly orgasmic expression.
“Because I have questions.”
“What questions could you have?”
I thought about that.
“You’re just curious ‘cause you found out he’s a damn werewolf.” She shook her head before stuffing another bite in her mouth. “Let that go, Robbie. It ain’t gonna lead nowhere but trouble. He tried to attack you, Lucas stopped him, he learnt his lesson, it’s over.”
Andrew had said some things over dinner that I had questions about that were starting to come back to me. It was like experiencing a trauma—which I guess nearly getting attacked by a werewolf was trauma—and my mind had shoved details out of my mind in the moment. Like temporary amnesia. Now I was starting to remember the details of our conversation over dinner at the Indian restaurant. Things like how he thought I smelled. He had said I was “intoxicating”. Lucas had recently said the same thing.
What does Oma smell like?
I smelled the air, pretending that I was clearing my nose. Everything just smelled like food. I couldn’t pick out a particular scent on the air that could be attributed to Oma’s person.
“I just want to know why he acted the way he acted.” I shrugged, trying to play it all off.
“’Cause he’s a damn werewolf, that’s why!” She jabbed her fork at me. “You mind my advice and just push that out of your mind, Robbie. Andrew is no good and you don’t need to put up with his shit.”
“This from the woman who described him as a ‘sweet boy’ just last week.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I mean, he seemed pretty contrite the other morning.”
“Nothing like a fist to the face to do that.” She snorted.
We ate in silence for several minutes before I heard the front door open and close. Oma looked up expectantly as my stomach fluttered again. I took a big bite of biscuit as footsteps sounded in the main part of the house. My mouth being full when Lucas entered would keep him from trying to kiss me in greeting in front of Oma and I wouldn’t be expected to have anything intelligent to say upon his approach. Lucas entered the kitchen, looking just as delectable as he had the past few times we had…hung out?...and it made me wish that we had met at his house instead of him coming to Oma’s.
“Well, good morning there, Lucas.” Oma cocked an eyebrow at him and then shot a glance at me.
Stuff it, old lady. I thought to myself.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wagner,” Lucas responded. “Thanks for inviting me over.”
“You’re welcome, Lucas.” Oma started to stand.
“I can fix my own plate.” He gestured for her to sit. “Good morning, Rob.”
I smiled around the mouthful, gesturing at my bulging cheeks with a finger, before giving him a nod. He winked back at me. Oma grinned at that and went back to eating her food. As Lucas prepared himself a plate of biscuits and gravy, I ate my food slowly and thoughtfully, trying to keep my mouth full but not eat quickly or appear anxious. Oma kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she ate her food.
“Guess Jackson didn’t need you in the store today?” Oma asked. “How’s that old bastard doing?”
I frowned at my grandmother.
“Grandpa’s fine,” Lucas responded from his spot at the stove. “Thanks for asking. He said to tell you to wait at least three days after tomorrow before you start digging or planting. You should be good to plant then, though.”
“Tell him thank you so much for his damn expert advice.” She waggled her head. “Always tellin’ me how to run my damn garden like I ain’t been doin’ it since he was learning to play with his pud.”
“Oma!” I gasped around the mouthful of food.
Lucas just chuckled.
“Well, he’s an asshole.” Oma waved me off with her fork before popping the last bite of her food in her mouth. “If he ain’t tellin’ me what to do one way he’s tellin’ me another. Hope he falls in the shower with them rickety ole legs of his.”
Lucas guffawed as he slid the ladle back into the gravy skillet and headed over to the table. Oma raised from her seat, her plate suddenly empty.
“You boys finish your breakfast.” She said suddenly. “I’m gonna go in here and get a fire going and get my feet toasted up.”
Lucas sat down in the chair next to me at the table, giving me a wink as Oma rinsed her plate off and deposited it in the sink. A few seconds later, Lucas and I were alone at the table and I didn’t have the first clue what to say to him. Which was odd, all things considered. We’d had meals together. Done…other things together. Surely, I could figure out something normal to say?
“Did you sleep well?”
That wasn’t it.
“Did I sleep well?” Lucas grinned goofily at me as he stuffed a bite of food into his mouth. “Is that what you wanted to say?”
“No.”
“Did you want to ask me if I slept well without you in bed next to me?”
I couldn’t help but blush slightly and grin as I looked down at my plate.
“I think that’s what you wanted to ask me.”
Crossing my arms, I placed them on the table in front of my plate, ignoring my food as I swallowed the last bite I had taken.
“What if I did?”
“Then the answer is that I slept okay, but I would have slept better if you had stayed over and slept with me.” He shrugged. “But that’s moot now.”
“Who would be the big spoon if we slept together?” I leaned in conspiratorially. “You or me?”
“We could take turns.”
“I want first watch.”
“I’d let you have anything you wanted.”
“Anything?” I leaned in closer.
Who was this person I was becoming? I was mooning over some guy at Oma’s table, acting like a lovesick teenager who was experiencing their first sexual relationship.
Who really gives a shit?
“Yes.” Lucas looked me in the eyes as he shoved another bite into his mouth. “Anything, Rob.”
I considered this.
“Why?”
“Because something inside of me tells me that I want to do it.”
“What if that thing inside of you told you to burn down an orphanage?” I was only partly teasing. “Would you follow that instinct, too?”
“Apples to oranges.” He shook his head with a smile. “Wanting to do anything to make someone happy and burning orphans alive are not even on the same spectrum, Rob.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “What if I wanted you to burn down the orphanage?”
“Are you the type of person to ask that of me?”
“No.”
“Then it’s moot.”
“But would you?” I egged him on playfully.
“Okay, okay.” He relented. “Maybe I wouldn’t do absolutely anything you wanted. But pretty close.”
I smiled.
“You enjoy this banter, don’t you?” He grumbled.
“I enjoy messing with you, yes.”
“Eat your food.” He gestured at my plate. “Mrs. Wagner will get mad if you don’t eat everything on your plate.”
“You and Oma get awfully concerned with what’s going into my body,” I replied. “For obvious different reasons.”
“Do you want to go to dinner and a movie yet?”
I looked over at Lucas as he chewed his bite of food and popped a bite into my mouth as well.
“Or are you enjoying the chase too much to commit to the next step?” He asked. “Because I think the reason you haven’t accepted an invitation to an actual date is that you enjoy the foreplay too much.”
My first instinct was to laugh at this statement, especially because of how it was phrased and the words Lucas had chosen to convey his thought. However, what he said actually gave me pause. Was I avoiding moving forward with Lucas because we’d no longer be in a “honeymoon” phase and the magic would be lost that is there in the early days of a relationship? Isn’t the first part of any relationship the best? Where two people aren’t quite in a relationship, but they’re getting used to each other as people, exploring each other’s bodies, experimenting sexually, enjoying the pleasures each body can provide…flirting with danger?
“No.” I shook my head, suddenly no longer playful. “Of course not, Lucas.”
“Then…are you going to go have dinner and see a movie with me?”
“Fine.” I shrugged. “If it’s that important to you.”
“It is.”
“Fine.” I shoved another bite of food into my mouth.
“Fine.” He smiled.
So, that was done. The deal was made. A gauntlet had been thrown down. And I had accepted the challenge.
“Do you think I should talk to Andrew?”
“About what?” He turned up his nose.
“The other night? How he’s a werewolf and all? I don’t know.”
“Why would you need to talk to him about that? He’s learned his lesson. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Well, he’ll see Oma at the center whenever she goes, so he’ll still be around,” I explained. “I mean, maybe I should at least try to get on an even keel, ya’ know? So that there’s no animosity or tension there.”
“Why would there be?” He asked. “Just steer clear of each other and problem solved, ya’ know?”
Looking over at Lucas, the redness in his cheeks, I couldn’t help but grin at the thought that suddenly popped into my brain.
“Are you jealous that I’ll talk to a guy I went on an actual date with?”
“Of course not.” Lucas shoved another bite in his mouth. “That’s just ridiculous, Rob.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not what was on my mind, okay?” Lucas grumbled, looking down at his plate as he ate.
I popped my last bite into my mouth and sat back in my chair and stared at him with a grin.
“You’re jealous.” I cooed.
“I am not jealous.”
“Say it enough times you might believe it.”
“Why would I be jealous?” He looked up at me. “I mean, do I need to be jealous of some vile hairball?”
I laughed as Lucas realized what he had said and how it showed his hand.
“I’m pretty sure you are, regardless of the fact that you don’t need to be.”
“Why do you want to talk to him, then?” Lucas asked firmly. “Why do you need to talk to him?”
“He said that my scent was intoxicating.” I shrugged. “Maybe not those exact words, but…and then you said the same thing the other day. I want to know what that means. At least, what it means to him. Does it mean something different to a werewolf than it does to just some guy who finds me sexually attractive?”
Lucas frowned at me.
“That’s all.”
“You’re going to go talk to some guy you went on a date with to ask him about your…smell?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “Just why he said it. Why he said it that way. Why did you say that?”
Lucas didn’t answer me but he continued to eat.
“Because I have some suspicions.”
“Just let it go, Rob.” Lucas glanced up at me, then back at his plate, his mouth full of food. “Don’t get into this.”
“You said that a lot of people in Point Worth have a monkey in their family tree at some branch or another.” I continued, ignoring his plea. “So, maybe I have a monkey in my tree? I mean, you said Oma is a wit—”
Lucas looked up at me with pleading eyes, so I stopped myself.
“Is that it?”
He glanced at the kitchen doorway.
“Don’t.” He whispered lowly. “Please.”
My head tilted to the side of its own volition as I looked at him.
“Mrs. Wagner will be upset with me, Rob.” He said simply. “Please don’t start this right now.”
“I’m not—start—anything, Lucas.” I chewed at my lip. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Later.” He said firmly. “Please?”
Why was Lucas so bothered with talking about this stuff in general, but even more so when it was possible that Oma would find out about it? It was almost as if he was scared of her.
“Fine.” I sat back. “But we will talk about this.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
I was exhausted with everyone in Point Worth being so damn weird. But, when I looked at Lucas, I didn’t really care. When it came to Lucas, I had my qualms about him—but all of them were my own hang-ups about dating and guys in general. That didn’t keep me from wanting to do very naughty things with him every time I saw him. I didn’t even care if he was weird, too. However, he would have to be pretty severely weird to curb my appetite for him. Of course, I didn’t want him to know that.
Examining the situation, I knew that I would eventually have to know what, if anything, was weird about Lucas. I would have to face that—just like I had to face the fact that I went on a date with a werewolf and Oma was a witch—which was still hard to swallow. Because, if I did get my mind and my body into alignment, and that meant I wanted to make Lucas a permanent fixture in my life, it couldn’t be built on lies or even half-truths.
“Should we just spend this lovely, sunny day enjoying each other’s company?” I suggested.
Lucas chuckled. He pointed to the window over the kitchen sink that looked out over the backyard of Oma’s property. I turned my head and saw the snowflakes immediately.
“Well, shit.” I sighed. “I knew I was being facetious, but still.”
Lucas popped the last bite of his food into his mouth and grinned at me.
“Wanna go help Mrs. Wagner build her fire?”
“Absolutely.” I smiled at him.
First, though, we did the dishes from breakfast. Then we joined Oma in the living room. She already had a roaring fire going and had her feet kicked up on the coffee table, roasting her feet, which were covered in big, fluffy, mismatched socks, a wide smile on her face as she lounged on the sofa. She just smiled at us as we took the other end of the couch. Lucas and I kicked our shoes off and kicked our feet up on the coffee table, setting our feet to roast as well. At first, things were odd, especially when Lucas laid his head against my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me. Finally, though, we all settled into easy conversation and reminiscing.
Maybe things didn’t have to be weird all the time.