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SEVEN

EASTON

“…and then Ozzie put me in the water on my face! It was so, like, bold. But I am a badass.”

My heart leaps in my chest, but I bite the inside of my cheek nearly hard enough to break the skin because I know that Ozzie would never hurt my kid. He was nearly in tears when I offered him my apology, almost willing to take the blame, even though I was the one being an epic asshole.

“He showed me how I could turn my body and use my head and neck muscles, so even if my arms are feeling weak, I can still get onto my back and float.”

I glance over at my mom, who’s a little too engrossed in her phone. I can’t tell if she thinks I’m pissed about this or if she’s being smug because she’s been saying this for years, and I was the one dragging my feet about putting him in the water.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Gross,” Elio says, wrinkling his nose. He picks up his burger and starts to shovel a massive bite between his teeth, so I clear my throat, and he stops. The last thing I need is a goddamn choking incident right after we cleared the infection out of his lungs. “What?”

“You know what.”

He groans and takes a smaller bite. “Why do you act like I’m about to kill myself with everything I do?”

“Because I’ve seen kids choke on bites smaller than the one you just took.”

“God, you are so dramatic. I’m going to eat in front of the TV.”

I open my mouth to stop him, but in all honesty, I need a moment. The last few weeks have been a lot, and I’m still dealing with the whirlwind of emotions I’ve been feeling from Easton.

I want to think it’s nothing. That the shower incident was a total fluke. Or that I misheard him.

He’s straight, and kindness is not flirting, and him mumbling a name with the same first letter and syllables as mine doesn’t mean anything. And neither does the way he was kind to me at the station and made me lunch. Or the way he kept sneaking in casual touches. Or the way he⁠—

“Your phone’s ringing!” Elio interrupts from the living room.

Fuck. It’s my work phone with the annoying, pitchy ring, and I nearly trip over my feet to get it from the curio table beside the front door.

“Yeah?” I try not to speak with a gasp.

“Rune. Am I interrupting dinner?” It’s Camilo, which is rarely a good sign.

“Just feeding the kid. Everything okay?”

“Not…exactly. Computer problem. Any chance you can come down and take a look?”

I close my eyes in a silent prayer. “Is this a problem problem or an Easton problem?”

His silence says everything.

“He was looking for a file and went on a YouTube video to find it, and now some very important parts of all our desktops are…well. Missing.”

At least it’s not hardware damage.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can be there in ten.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

I was. Once. Now I’m the IT guy who solves most issues by having people turn their computers on and off. This, however, seems like it might test my skills. I didn’t get much hands-on training in school. I did a fast-track degree in computer science so I could qualify, then six months as a trainee before I was hired on here.

Tech just seemed safer than going back to being in emergency services, and while I miss the job more than I can say sometimes, knowing I can come home to Elio at a relatively normal hour, all in one piece, without random bodily fluids all over me or secondary burns that got through my sleeves, is worth the exchange.

“I have to run into work,” I tell the quiet living room.