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I keyed the mic to Champ and Riggs. “All clear.”
Riggs sniffed loudly. “Jeremy, obviously. Jeremy Octavian Kirby-Edgewater! And I will remove every nail and cinder block from the Parson School for Wayward Boys with my own manicured hands until he is found!”
The principal cleared his throat. “Sir. This is the JollyBrook School. The Parson School is over in Kirkland.”
There was a single beat of utter silence before Riggs spoke again. “Oh. And that’s, uh… not affiliated with your school, I take it?”
“No, sir.”
“You don’t, say, share a dungeon?”
“A dungeon? Good God, no.”
Champ sighed heavily. “Jesus Christ, Benedict. How could you get the name of our son’s school wrong?”
Riggs sobbed. “Oh, it’s all my fault, then? How typical of you. Just like the incident with the housekeeper was my fault—”
“You told her you’d seen the ghost of your murdered grandmother in our bathroom! Of course the poor woman quit on the spot! And your grandmother wasn’t murdered.”
“Well, that ghost was someone’s grandmother! If you ever bothered to watch Ghost Hunters with me, you’d understand that those of us who are deeply empathic—”
“We apologize for the disruption, Principal Halloran,” Champ interrupted loudly. “You’ve, ah… you’ve got a fine operation here. Excellent facilities. I don’t suppose you have any openings for a sophomore with a talent for dramatics… No? Well.” He sighed again. “Come on, Benedict. We’re going home. Now.”
“But what about Jeremy?” Riggs cried, his voice sounding further away. “What about the dungeon! Because I would never forgive myself if…”
The crowd in the hallway began to murmur and giggle until the principal shushed them all and herded everyone back into their classrooms. Kev and I grinned at each other in the tiny closet.
My comms clicked on, and Champ’s voice spoke in my ear. “We’re out. Give it seven minutes for things to settle down and the next class to begin, then meet us out on the road. I’ll try to keep Benedict from any further hysterics in the meantime.”
Riggs’s chuckle echoed through Champ’s mic.
Once the comms clicked off, I set a silent alarm on my watch.
“Seven minutes… however should we pass the time?” I whispered.
After a single beat, Kev and I launched ourselves at each other and made out like high schoolers in a closet.
Seven minutes in heaven, indeed.
Having Kev on the team seemed like a better idea every day.
But when we returned home to Licking Thicket, I realized immediately that my temporary reprieve wasn’t going to last as long as I’d hoped, because my SmittyKitty Horn was already blinking with a message.
HogDocKev: I miss playing with you. If there’s something I did to cause you to pull away, please let me know. And I’m sorry.
I blew out a breath and curled a fist over the center of my chest to press against the tightness there.
It was time to do some damage control.
15
KEV
When we got back to the house after the op in Missouri, Champ and Riggs relaxed around the kitchen table with Elvo, Yolanda, Carter, and Quinn, talking in low voices and filling everyone in, while Hux excused himself to go check on Rodrigo. Carter called out from his spot under Riggs’s arm for me to join them, and Quinn waved me over eagerly, but I shook my head with a smile and slipped out onto the back porch instead.
The mission hadn’t been particularly difficult or dangerous, and my part had been especially easy, but there was a kind of contact adrenaline high that came from being part of a winning team. I felt wired.
The night air was bracing, and a full moon dappled the trees silver. I took a deep breath of cold air and held it. From behind me came loud peals of laughter, and through the large kitchen window, I watched Carter bury his face in Riggs’s shoulder while Champ acted out some part of today’s adventure that involved a lot of hand-waving—the Benedict part, no doubt. Riggs made a rude gesture over Champ’s head that set Quinn and Yolanda off again, laughing until they were leaning against one another to hold themselves upright.
This was my family now. These folks, along with Elvo and Jordan and Sasha, even Yolanda’s wife, Katie, and the ancient guy with the kilts and the military jackets who acted as Champion Security’s receptionist, were my people, and I loved every single one of them. After years and years of not feeling like I fit anywhere, I was living the dream, and I was freaking ecstatic.
But.
Somewhere in that house, Jasper Huxley was tending to his rabbit. Probably feeding Rodrigo the organic strawberries I’d asked Mrs. Carmody to buy and telling him his own version of today’s story in his soft bunny-talk voice. And I was realizing—as in, an oh-shit-the-earth-has-stopped-turning kind of realization—that as great as it was to have people, what I really wanted most was one specific person.
