AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dominic lifts one eyebrow. “Is this your typical sour blend?”
I laugh. “I added some honey to sweeten it up for you.”
An amused gleam dances in Dom’s eyes as he takes a sip. His smile widens. “You know just how I like it, Sugar.”
Even after all this time, the nickname—and the memory of how he coined it—brings a flush to my cheeks. I lean in to steal a quick kiss, tasting the mix of sweet and sour on his breath. “Finish up and then come down.”
I tramp back downstairs and emerge into the sunlit apartment just as Jacob strides in through the front door. A gritty smudge marks his jaw and his hair is rumpled, but a now-familiar eager energy glows in his face.
I set my hands on my hips. “Dealt out a little more justice today?”
He grins at me. “There was a maniac tearing around trying to outrace the cops. I blew out a couple of his tires. He didn’t get very far after that.”
Jacob’s main pastime these days is following broadcasts on the police scanner he picked up and intervening to ensure the worst of the crooks are caught. I guess it’s a good way for him to let out any pent-up tension that builds up inside him—and he’s developed a real taste for using his powers to stop villains of any kind.
I wave toward the bathroom. “We’ve got to leave to meet the jet in fifteen minutes. Go get yourself washed up, superhero.”
“Superheroes make excellent role models,” he retorts, but he heads over to take a shower anyway.
Andreas looks up from the desk near the broad windows on the other side of the room and shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s ever going to grow out of this vigilante stage.”
“It could be a lot worse,” I say wryly, and amble over to drape my arms across the back of his shoulders. “How’s the book coming along? You’re not having to leave it in the middle of a scene or anything?”
Drey stretches and reaches back to hug me to him, twisting his head at the same time to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Sometimes that’s the best spot. Makes it easier for me to get into the groove when I come back.”
Always the keeper of memories and histories, Andreas has started channeling his love of stories into a new outlet.So I don’t find myself boring you all telling the same tales over and over again, he said with a laugh when he told us.
Right now, he’s blending some of the favorite experiences he’s gleaned from other people’s minds into what he calls “a work of creative narrative nonfiction.” But he’s commented that someday he might try to turn our own history into a book—one he’d have to pretend is fictional, of course.
A faint clinking sound carries from the small room we’ve designated as Zian’s workshop. I peek inside to see him adjusting the connections on an electrical panel, his gaze so intent I’m not sure he’s realized I’m there until he speaks. “I’m almost done, Shrimp. I think by next week I’ll have this up and running.”
I duck inside just long enough to ruffle his hair and give him a peck on his temple. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Zee has let his curiosity about mechanics and electronics along with his X-ray vision take him into an education in electrical engineering. He goes to classes a few times a week and practices at home a lot of the rest of the time. He’s even started picking up jobs doing repairs on everything from toaster ovens to computer systems.
When I retreat from the workshop, Griffin is just slipping past the front door. I’d tease him about cutting it close, but I can’t bring myself to hassle him when I can see the air of serenity that’s come over his entire body.
I wouldn’t have expected it, but volunteering at the hospital gives him more peace than anguish. He goes through the wards as a volunteer, soothing the people who are anxious and offering whiffs of happiness to those who’ve become depressed.
It’s incredible, the mix of emotions that building holds,he told me once.There’s grief and heartbreak, sure, but there’s also so much joy when a procedure is successful or a patient starts to recover.
“Good day?” I ask.
“Always.” He gives me a quick but warm hug. Then his voice drops. “I saw Mekah. She seems to be doing okay, but the surgery isn’t until tomorrow.”
An anxious pang ripples through my chest. My smile tightening, I hold up my hand. “Fingers crossed.”
My gaze darts to the framed photo on our mantel—of me, the teachers, and our young charges at the early learning center where I’ve been volunteering most mornings when I’m in the city. Despite the sticky fingers and snotty noses, I love every moment I’ve gotten to spend guiding another generation of kids through a much better childhood than my guys and I got.
But my work comes with occasional heartbreak too. Mekah is only four, but just a week ago, she was diagnosed with a tumor. We’re all hoping the cancer hasn’t spread any farther and that the operation will leave her fully healthy again.
Dominic has caught the end of our conversation as he came down from the patio. He gives my arm a quick squeeze before going to put away his lemonade glass. “You don’t need crossed fingers. If the surgery isn’t enough, I’ll find a chance to heal her my way.”
“I don’t know how easy that’ll be,” I have to say.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out. No kid should die at four years old.” He glances over at Griffin. “I’m looking forward to when I can start joining you in volunteering. Maybe I can’t get away with working a bunch of miracles all at once, but I can give plenty of people a little nudge in the right direction.”
Griffin beams at him. “Then there’ll be even more happiness to go around.”
