“Wait, like…actually?”
I turn and grimace. “Yeah. Like actually shitting himself. And throwing up on me. I mean, it wasn’t his fault. He was freaked-out and super tachy. Lex gave him gas, and we managed to cut the slats and got him out, but it was nasty. And I think Easton might have been a little freaked-out.”
Rune tilts his head. “So that’s why he was acting worse than usual? Over some kid with his head stuck in the railings?”
I take a breath, then nod. “Yeah. He, uh…well. Anyway, it’s not my story to tell.” Easton might be privileged, but he does have his own trauma, and I’m not about to spill that to the one guy at the station who hates him. “He just has a hard time when kids are involved.”
The truth is, Easton’s very first call ever was a drowning. The people at the pool party panicked, and it went as badly as it could have gone. I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it.
But we all have those.
We hold scars just beneath our skin, shaped like the one person we should have been able to save and couldn’t. Sometimes it’s a call. Sometimes, well…it’s something else.
I force the thought out of my head. I don’t really want to think about my mom and sisters right now, so I turn back to check the pan, where the pancetta is sizzling, then lean over to salt the water. It’s not quite at a boil yet, but it won’t be long.
“Well,” Rune says, quieter than usual, “I should take off.”
“Alright. I won’t be here tomorrow, but I’ll put your food in the fridge. And if you want to head to the bar to play darts or…I don’t know, feed the ducks at the park or something, give me a call.”
He laughs as his eyes narrow on me. “You really want to feed ducks, don’t you?”
I shrug. “I like ducks.”
He laughs again and shakes his head. “Ducks sound good. I’ll talk to you later.”
Just like everyone else, he doesn’t promise he’ll hang out with me, and I’m pretty sure my next trip to the park will be like all my trips to the park: completely solo.
I used to be able to take my sisters, but even the youngest now is too cool to hang out with me. I’m just her weird older brother who likes to feed ducks and lie under the huge cement tortoises to look for four-leaf clovers.
All Meadow wants to do is be at the mall with her friends, making TikToks about whatever fuck-ass drink is trending at Dutch Bros.
And Starr and Westin outgrew me—both figuratively and also literally, since they’re in college and have better things to do than give a shit about their brother’s park trips.
I’m proud of them, but it’s lonely now.
And it’s starting to feel like the whole reason I abandoned myself as a person to take up this job was pointless. I know that’s not actually true, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel like I lost myself for something that was always going to be temporary.
“Food.”
I jump, realizing that my noodles have almost overboiled, and I glance over my shoulder at Lex, who’s strolling into the room.
“Sorry. I mean, please, North. Since you deprived us of pizza?—”
“You cannot call Blackbirds pizza. Who names a pizza shop Blackbirds! It’s cursed.”
Lex rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you literally Crow Daddy?”
I suck in a breath and pull a face. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
He leans against the counter and watches me begin to turn egg yolks, cheese, pasta water, and noodles into a delicious, delicious meal. “You’re the one who brings crows to work. And I’m not saying you’re wrong about the pizza. I’m saying that they give usfreepizza whenever we want, and it’s hard to turn down with our budget.”
“And I’m what? Chopped liver?”
He moves a little closer and sets a hand on my shoulder. I never did have a dad, but I used to fantasize about a guy a lot like Lex—just a little older—rolling up into my front yard with apologies on his lips and open arms for hugging when it felt like the world was too heavy.
Unfortunately, all I got was a stepdad straight out of a dark storybook, a villain who taught me how to hide a black eye and bruised ribs so the teachers didn’t call CPS.
“North,” Lex says, drawing me out of my head, “you know that I appreciate what you do around here, right?”
