Page 88 of Halo

I snort. “You’re a doctor.”

“Of anesthesia,” he adds, already grimacing. “Not … whatever kind of doctor specializes in tiny bloodsucking parasites.”

“Lice aren’t vampires.”

They might as well be.”

Grady giggles around his juice box.

“See?” I whisper. “Look at that: you’ve already cured one patient.”

Nick shoots me a look before dragging the comb through another section of blond hair, audibly gagging when he catches his first louse.

“Oh, look at that juicy one,” I tease.

Nick shivers, quickly wiping his comb across the collection cup.

Leaving Nick in charge of the little patient, with his permission and direction, I strip beds, gather blankets, and start back-to-back loads of laundry with Grady’s clothes and stuffed animals. By the time the washer finishes filling, I’m tossing stuffed animals into a garbage bag and turning up the water heater.

Every few minutes, another dramatic gag echoes down the hallway. I stop to lean against the wall, quietly laughing at the sound. “You’re doing great!” I call out.

“Who are you talking to? Grady, me, or the lice?”

Grady has to catch his breath from laughing so hard, making me smile to myself before heading back to the laundry room.

By the time I return with fresh towels, the panic that greeted me at the front door has been eradicated—well, for the most part. Grady has been showered with medicated shampoo and now stands in his bathroom sink in a matching top and bottom set of pajamas with orange, blue, and green dinosaurs.

He stares at his reflection, a scowl on his face. “I don’t like my hair.”

Nick rests a hand on his shoulder. “I know, partner, but it will grow back. Now, let’s brush those teeth.”

Grady’s lower lip wobbles. “But it looks funny.”

“It’ll be okay,” Nick insists. “We’ll go to a barber who can—uh … hopefully, fix it.”

“When?”

Nick sighs. “This weekend. Now brush your teeth.”

“But that will take forever,” Grady whines.

Nick squats down. “Listen, Grady, there’s nothing we can do about it right now, okay? I can let you wear one of my hats tomorrow.”

“I don’t want your hat!” Grady shouts, tears spilling over as he pulls at butchered hair. “I want my hair back!”

“Now, Grady …” Nick raises his voice.

Grady throws himself onto the bathroom floor, crying and kicking. His tiny fists pound the tile as he rolls back and forth.

Nick lets out a heavy exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing back at me in the doorway. “I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?” he says softly.

I shake my head. “Do you happen to have some clippers? Like the electric kind with the different attachments?”

He scrunches up his face. “Maybe? I can look. Why?”

“When Matt played football in high school, the linemen had a tradition of keeping their hair pretty short during the season. Some even buzzed it all off completely. I got pretty decent at cleaning up fades.” I glance at Grady’s reflection. “I can’t promise perfection, but maybe we can give it a little help.”

Nick’s shoulders sag with relief. “I’ll be right back.”