Page 66 of Show Me

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Emily asks for the third time.

“I’m okay.” It’s not a lie. Not the whole truth either.

Grace gurgles from the carrier on the floor, tiny fists waving like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra. Emily glances down and smiles, the tension easing from her shoulders for half a second.

Emily glances around the room. “I hate leaving you.”

“I know. But people need you.”

“And you don’t?”

I offer a small smile. “I have backup.”

As if on cue, Xavier steps through the back door, carrying a toolbox and a length of something metal that looks far more serious than my current door lock deserves.

Emily exhales. “Good.”

Xavier nods once. “I’ll take it from here.”

She studies him, not as a friend, not as Bella’s brother’s best friend, but as a man she’s trusting with one of her own.

“Call me if anything feels off.”

“I will.”

She squeezes my shoulder, gentle and brief, nothing like Greg’s grip, then gathers Grace and heads for the door. When it closes behind her, the house feels quieter.

Xavier sets the metal bar against the wall and scans the kitchen, eyes catching every detail: the box on the counter, the loosened weather stripping, the notes spread where Jake left them as he went over everything again.

“You eat?”

I blink. “What?”

“Food.” Xavier crosses his arms over his chest. “Necessary for survival. Did you eat anything?”

“I had a granola bar.”

“That was this morning.”

I open my mouth. Close it.

“Give me a second, and I’ll get you something.” He heads to the refrigerator and snatches the ingredients for a sandwich.

“You’re making me something to eat?”

“Yes.” One corner of his mouth arches upward. It’s not quite a smile, but it makes my heart skip a beat anyway. “But only because you forgot to eat.”

After making quick work of the bread, lunchmeat, and condiments, Xavier places the sandwiches on a plate. He sets them down with a small flourish. “Here you go. A gourmet meal at your service.”

Squirt trots into the kitchen, snout twitching, and makes a beeline for his boots. He looks down. “Hey.”

He flops against his foot like he’s claiming territory.

“You’ve been promoted,” I say. “He doesn’t do that for everyone.”

Xavier crouches, scratching behind Squirt’s ears with surprising gentleness. “He’s heavy.”

“He’s big-boned.”