“I’m not…” I stop myself, flushing slightly, and redouble my efforts to scoop the fertilizer with competence. “I don’t complain.”
“Mm-hm,” Levi hums with amusement. “You’re always this aggressive with manure, then?”
I pause, taking a deep breath that does not, unfortunately, calm my frustration. “Some of us had an exceptionally maddening morning.”
Levi watches me thoughtfully. “Ah, so thereisa reason behind your charmingly hostile mood.”
“I’m not hostile,” I argue, shoveling with unnecessary force.
“No, of course not,” he teases, smiling brightly. “You’re clearly filled with sunshine and warmth.”
“Levi,” I warn, though my annoyance is rapidly losing the fight against the corner of my mouth that twitches upward.
He leans against the wheelbarrow next to me, his expression suddenly softening with genuine curiosity. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “I just had a trying morning at city hall.”
Levi’s eyebrows lift. “You go there a lot, huh? Every time I blink, you’re either coming or going from that place. Is there some twink clerk I should be worried about?”
“Just handling a…legal issue.” My voice stays calm. Too calm, perhaps.
He hums thoughtfully. “Uh-huh. Sure,legal issue. Sounds hot.” He grins, kicking the cart’s wheel with the toe of his boot. “Someone suing you for funeral-related damages? Did you bury someone alive?”
I huff a laugh, rolling my shoulders. “No, just hammering out some details and hitting a roadblock, if you will.” Not a lie, technically. Not the whole of it, either.
I could tell him.
Ishouldtell him. I’ve been more open with Levi than I’ve been with anyone in centuries. He knows who I am. What I was. But he doesn’t know what I’ve been fighting for. Or why I’ve spent the last few decades chasing a loophole that refuses to exist.
And come to think of it, I’m still figuring out if I care anymore, so what’s the point?
But instead, I just shake my head and shovel another pile into a bag.
Levi elbows me softly. “Locked room again?”
I smirk, nudging him back. “Must’ve misplaced the key.”
He gasps dramatically, eyes wide. “My broody funeral director shrouded in mystery. Who would’ve guessed?”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Literally anyone who’s ever met me.”
That earns a laugh, rich and bright enough to cut through the morning’s frustrations. “Well, lucky me, then,” he says, shoving another bag of fertilizer onto the cart, the muscles in his arms shifting beneath his shirt. “I like solving mysteries.”
He turns to grab the next bag, and I let myself watch him. He’s infuriatingly beautiful. Even covered in manure.
For a moment, I’m not thinking about paperwork or mortality or loopholes. All I’m thinking about is the curve of Levi’s mouth, the sweat at his temples, and how badly I want to peel off every ridiculous layer of these coveralls and trace the freckles along the line of his spine.
I’m suddenly grateful for the simple repetitive task of filling bags. For the warmth of his laughter and the easy way he nudges me like we’ve been doing this forever. Breath evens. Shoulders unlock. As maddening as the Fates have been, here in the dirt, shoveling manure with Levi, their nonsense feels a world away.
I bend down to tighten the cord on one of the bags, more for something to do with my hands than out of necessity. “So,” I say, voice a little more formal than intended, “you mentioned your family visiting soon, right?”
“Tomorrow, actually,” he says, tugging off a glove. “They’re driving in with a cooler full of questionable leftovers and enough unsolicited input to power a small city. Should be a treat.”
“Should I be worried?” I ask, teasing because it’s easier.
“Only if you plan on discussing existential dread and the underworld over dinner.” He pauses. “Actually…no. That might help.”
I smirk. “Charming.”
