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“It does, doesn’t it? I figure we’re both old enough to know what we want.” Once again that low rumble of his gets me every time.
“True.” I wave a hand across my now heated face.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens between us. Which sucks because I hate waiting. I especially hate waiting when it comes to you.”
I don’t know what to say so I let him do the talking.
“Just don’t go apeshit on me too often, okay?” His words hold a hint of vulnerability.
That vulnerability hits me right in the gut. “Okay,” I whisper.
Soft chewing noises come over the line. “Thank you for making dinner for me, sweetheart. I really appreciate the effort, but this tastes terrible. I’m not sure it’s really even food. Was this cheese originally in powdered form?” I can hear a gagging sound that has me giggling. “We can do so much better, baby,” he says. “I’m thinking I should probably cook from now on—for both our sakes.”
I snort. “The kitchen is nothing more than somewhere convenient to store my candy, cookies, and ice cream as far as I’m concerned. Have at it.”
“Check out this dude in the gray hat. How many times a day do you think he knocks it on doorways, and it falls off?”
“He’s a wizard. He has supernatural powers up to and including the protection of excessively pointy hats from any and all architectural structures.”
Evan chuckles. Quite possibly my favorite sound in the whole universe. “Sure, Sadie. Whatever you say.”* * *
EVAN“Hi, Dad. How’s it going?” I ask while putting together my morning smoothie. Since I woke up so early, I didn’t bother asking Sadie if she wanted one. Not that she would anyway. Eventually I plan on waking her up with some morning nookie which would then turn into having breakfast together and potentially even showering at the same time before we started our day.
Someday.
Hopefully.
“You’re looking good, son. Fit as a fiddle.” He coughs into his hand and I frown at the laptop screen I have sitting on the opposite kitchen counter running Skype. Thank goodness Dad has Curt still living with him. My brother set up the technology so I could connect with them face-to-face from anywhere.
“I am, thank you. Working out. Holed up in Jake’s pad.”
My dad coughs again and he hits his wide barrel chest with a closed fist.
I narrow my gaze and note his pallor is a little off. “Dad, why are you coughing?” My heart pounds right out of my chest. I stop everything I’m doing and hang on every breath my father takes to see if there is anything off or strange.
“Relax, son. I don’t have the virus. I’m fine. Jesus. Everyone is going crazy about this flu.”
“Dad, it’s not a flu. It’s a virus with no known cure, vaccine, or treatment plan other than to let it run its course or being hospitalized. Do you have a fever? Any other symptoms?”
“No, boy. I have this cough because I’ve been working myself to the bone. The cannery is working overtime and I signed up for as many shifts as possible.”
“Why the hell would you do that! I have enough money to float both of us for the rest of our lives! You don’t need to work, Dad. I’ve told you that a million times.”
He scoffs. “What? And leave people in need? Reports are saying the stores are getting wiped clean out of canned goods all over the nation. We’re a big supplier, son. I need to do my bit to help. This is me doing my bit to help. Understand?”
I grind my teeth and breathe through my nose. “Dad, I’d prefer you limit your access to other people. What kind of safety measures do they have going down at the cannery to protect the workers?”
He runs a hand through his white-blond hair and then his scruffy chin. The lines around his eyes seem deeper than usual and he just looks tired. Run down. “My company is taking it pretty seriously seein’ as a couple people came down with the virus. They shut down work for an entire weekend and had a crew come in and do a detailed cleaning. We all wear coveralls over our clothes and have these face-shield type things. Which are a damn nuisance. Smelling your own breath all day. Breathing hot air.” He scowls.
“Dad, those are in place to protect you.”
“I know, and I’m doing my part, wearing ’em going in and coming out. We leave them in a heap by the exit on our way out and they do something to hose them down each night. We’re lucky. Fellas in the break room are talking about some companies where they’re just laying people off and not doing Sam hell to protect any of them.”
Jesus. This thing is getting so much worse. I press a thumb and forefinger to my temples trying to ward off a tension headache. “Maybe this is a sign you’re supposed to take early retirement? I’ll make sure your account has plenty of money and you can spend your time golfing, playing cards, and hanging out with Curt at the bar. Hell, I’ll buy the bar for you guys! You can run it together. After this pandemic situation gets better.”
