Page 2 of Coven of Corpses

“Don’t call me that.”

Grant ignored him, as usual. “Pass the mashed potatoes?”

“Oh, yeah.” Cody handed off the potatoes, piled high in a large silver mixing bowl because every other serving dish had been taken. Once it was out of his hands, he realized he hadn’t served himself. Dammit.

“This is all really great, honey,” his mother said, smiling from her place in the middle of the table. She looked at Demmy. “Thank you both for having our crazy group to your home on such short notice.”

“We’re glad to do it,” Demmy said, because he was the best husband in the entire world. If they weren’t sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room so Grant and MacKenzie could sleep in their bed—which, by the way, gross—Cody would definitely demonstrate his appreciation later.

Dinner was a blur of food he barely tasted and conversations he couldn’t keep track of. He tried to act engaged. Mostly though, he smiled and pretended to be following conversations. He caught a few looks from Demmy at the other end of the table and shared a quick smile, but he knew it didn’t reassure him. Sometimes knowing each other as well as they did could be a real pain the ass. He knew Demmy was worried about him. To be honest, he was worried about himself, too.

Memories of Felicia’s final days took up a lot of brain space. It affected his ability to focus on immediate tasks and making decisions, what he’d read some online shrink refer to as executive functioning. Even though Felicia had passed almost two weeks ago, it could have been the day before or the previous year. His emotions were all over the place. He knew it was grief. But knowing and being able to adjust for it were two different things.

In minutes, it seemed, his plate was clean, along with everyone else’s. Had he even tasted the food? Someone took away his plate and replaced it with a smaller one holding a wedge of pumpkin pie topped with the perfect amount of whipped cream. That had to have been Demmy’s doing. He looked down the table at Demmy. He looked tired, but good. His hair was buzzed short with a number two guide, steadily retreating across his scalp. Strong nose and rounded chin with that adorable dimple. Looking across the table at him felt like coming home. Cocking an eyebrow, Cody scooped some of the whipped cream with his fork and put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the burst of sweetness.

“Could you two not eye-fuck each other while we’re all trying to eat?” Roman grumbled.

“Roman Jovi Bower,” Cody’s mother snapped. “Language!”

Cody smirked as Roman’s cheeks burned, and his brother looked down at his own dessert.

“It’s all right, Mom,” Cody said, feeling a sizzle of sass work its way through him. “He’s just jealous because he and Madison don’t eye-fuck at the table anymore.”

“Gross,” Summer shouted from the kids’ table in the living room.

“What’s eye-fuck?” Brock croaked.

“Cody Duran Bower!” His mother’s eyes were wide. Just beyond her, his brother Dave beamed with pride.

Roman’s cold and beautiful wife, Madison, kept her eyes on her plate, studying her untouched dessert. Cody supposed empty calories were illegal or taxed heavily out in Utah.

Clean up took about three times longer than cooking and eating the meal. Cody parked himself in front of the sink and hand washed everything. He felt a little guilty leaving Demmy to talk with his family and handle breaking down and stowing the card tables. But he needed to find a spot to simply stand and do something brainless. When he finished washing and rinsing an item, he handed it off to Summer or her brother Brock. For his part, Brock was happily chatting along about the effects a big meal had on the human body. When Brock walked off with a handful of silverware, Summer leaned in close, shoulder against Cody’s side. He really did love his niece.

“Hey, kiddo.” He sounded tired and worn even to himself.

“Hey.” She put an arm around his waist and pressed the side of her head against his arm. “I miss Great-Grandma.”

A hot prick of tears made him blink rapidly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“I’m glad I got to talk with her a few years ago.” She dropped her arm and took the plate he passed to her. “You know, between all the werewolf bullshit.”

“Werewolf?” Brock stood a few feet back, looking at them with wide eyes.

“I’m talking about my comic books,” Summer said without missing a beat, “you twerpy little snoop.”

“Twerpy isn’t a word.” Brock twisted his lip up in perfect imitation of Roman. The sight triggered some flashbacks to a few particularly nasty arguments Cody had had with his older brother over the years, and he forced them back to the depths of his mental basement.

“You didn’t say anything about snoop, so I guess we all know what that means,” Summer snapped back.

Brock tossed the dishtowel at her face, but Summer was expecting it and grabbed it out of the air. He huffed and stomped out of the small kitchen.

“I see nothing has changed between you two,” Cody said as he rinsed a plate.

“I don’t see it changing anytime soon.” Summer dried it. “He’s been brain washed by my parents.”

“Maybe college will loosen him up.”

He and Summer exchanged a look, then both started laughing. It felt good for the moment it lasted, and Cody knew he needed to do it more often. Things just didn’t feel as funny to him right now.