“Thanks.” I tapped the End button, turned off the phone screen, and shut my eyes. I welcomed either breathing out of both nostrils or sweet death.
Whichever came first.
I’d probably taken a bit too much cough syrup prior to Max’s cross-examination phone call, because when I woke to the sound of my front door opening, I immediately chalked it up to Neil coming home from work. And then the facts, delayed though they were, fanned themselves out for my feverish brain to take in.
I had ended things with Neil. It’d been messy, and he’d moved out just before the holidays. Then, in an attempt to warm Calvin up to the idea of dating—something he had pushed back on during the Nevermore case—I’d given him keys to my place. But he’d not used them once.
“Kiddo?”
That’s when the quiet shuffle of steps in the front room finally made sense. It wasn’t Neil, who had a quick, almost agitated pace, like he was late and stuck walking behind tourists in Times Square. It wasn’t Calvin either, who was heavier on his feet, slow and methodical, but always sure in his destination.
“In here,” I called around the marbles in my throat. “But put on a hazmat suit.”
Pop opened my bedroom door. “Max called me,” he stated.
“That traitor,” I mumbled, unmoving.
“He said you were simmering in your own juices.”
“I’m a little underdone. Another hour, tops.” I pulled the comforter over my head.
Pop sighed, and then the blankets were yanked from the foot of the bed and I was exposed like a newborn baby.
“Dad,” I whined, adding a few syllables that didn’t otherwise exist in polite society.
Pop finished tugging the tucked-in blankets free and dropped the bedding into a pile on the floor. “You smell, Sebastian.”
“I definitely do.”
“Go take a shower and I’ll make your bed.”
I sat up, grabbed my glasses, and put them on. “I’m a grown man.”
“You’re more stubborn than a mule, is what you are.” Pop moved to stand in front of me as I planted my feet on the hardwood floor.
“It’s a man-cold. I’m being properly dramatic about it.”
“Sebastian Andrew Snow.”
I winced. “Christ, Dad. Leave Andrew out of this.”
Pop pressed his hand to my forehead and frowned. “It’s not a man-cold.”
“You can diagnose with just the hand-to-forehead maneuver, huh?”
“Sure,” Pop answered, a smile reluctantly tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a skill upgrade that comes with being a parent. Now, get in the shower. The hot water will help.”
“Fine.” I slowly got to my feet, collected clean pajamas from the dresser, and padded into the bathroom. I stripped and stood under scalding-hot water until my toes and asscheeks burned, but with the trade-off being I could breathe, if only momentarily, through both nostrils. After soaping and rinsing, I quickly toweled off as the cold, wintry bite in the air worked its way through the steam and heat of the bathroom. I dressed, but before I stepped out, I caught my reflection in the mirror and grimaced. I looked pale, almost waxy, despite the shower. And I had some serious whisker growth beyond my normal scruff. This was somewhere on the scale between lumberjack and homeless, and no points for guessing which end of the gauge I was flirting with. I started cleaning up with my electric razor, then said fuck it, because who was I looking to impress on New Year’s Eve when I was sick and home alone and my not-boyfriend had been radio silent for days?
I walked out of the bathroom and glanced through the open door to our—mybedroom.
I wondered how long it’d be before my brain stopped slipping up. Four years was a long time to spend with someone. A lot of memories—good and bad. A lot of experiences—good and bad. A lot of… good and bad, I supposed. Even if I’d fallen out of love with Neil and had only realized it by the time Calvin Winter had been thrust into my shop and my life, seeing my apartment asmineand notourswas going to take a bit of adjusting to.
Pop had opened the window a few inches, letting brisk air into the room. The cardinals that nested in the tree outside were singing. The bed had been made.
I turned as my dad came out of the kitchen.
He put a teapot and bowl on the table, then sat down. “Come get something to eat, kiddo.”
