Page 86 of Halo

“Hey, I believe that term is offensive now.”

“Oh, but publicly treating me like Patient Zero isn’t?” We fall into giggles as he continues. “We were trying to figure out what to do for dinner tomorrow to make it still feel special, but Chelsea’s being a little ... nitpicky.”

“Julian …” I groan into a snicker.

He shrugs. “Hey, if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

The cashier scans my lone container of nutmeg, before I stash it in my purse. After taking my receipt, I step off to the side while Julian unloads his mountain of anti-lice supplies onto the conveyor belt. “Well, how about this: my family makes enough food to feed the Cowboys before kickoff. Let me bring y’all each a plate.”

“Leah … no. That’s really sweet, but I can’t let you do that.”

“Pssh, yes, you can.” I wave him off. “Seriously. I’ll bring y’all some leftovers … and they’ll be lice-free.”

He chuckles, scratching his jawline. “Ay, I don’t even know what to say.“ He reaches to hug me, but I pivot away, making us both burst into laughter. “Gracias, mija.”

“Of course.” I wave him away. “Now go de-louse your children.”

He salutes with a lice comb as I head out to the parking lot.

By the time I make it home, Angus has already demolished the plush turkey leg I bought him for Thanksgiving. The stuffing spills across the living room rug as he looks up at me, letting the mangled toy fall from his mouth. He flashes the widest grin, that large tongue lolling out.

“You couldn’t even wait until tomorrow, huh?”

Knowing him, the turkey leg deserved it.

Angus promptly trots over, pressing against my legs until I sink onto the floor beside him in our spot. We stay there for a few minutes, scratching ears and soaking up the cuddles he insists he’s been deprived of during my hour-long absence.

“Ready to help me make some pie?” I ask, rubbing his chest. “It’s pumpkin, your favorite.”

He dutifully follows me into the kitchen, jumping onto his chair to supervise my baking. After turning on a country radio station, I tie on an apron before dusting the counter with flour.

“Now, Angus, this is our little secret” I whisper as I pull out the premade pie dough from a box. “Grandma would not approve, so we are not going to say a word. Capiche?”

I gently roll out the dough, smoothing the creases from the packaging before transferring it into a pie dish.

It promptly tears in the middle.

“Okay, so this is also a secret”

He gives me a curious look, tilting his head.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” I tease. “You don’t even have opposable thumbs to do this.”

I finish crimping the edges and reach for the cinnamon when my phone buzzes against the counter. Before it finishes vibrating from the first message, it chirps again. Then again. Expecting another reminder from my mother about tomorrow, I wipe my hands on a dish towel and glance at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

LEAH

EMERGENCY

I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.

NEED HELP

PLEASE

I freeze as dread swells behind my ribs.