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“No power means no coffee,” I said, putting my head on the kitchen counter. “I hate this already.”
“Let’s get these boards off the windows,” Dad said, getting straight to work.
I sighed. “I’ll go wake Jeremiah.”
I took the stairs and climbed onto the bed, crawlin’ over to his body and kissing his shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I murmured. He mumbled and groaned. “My parents are here, and it’s after eight. Doreen’ll be wondering where you are.”
He shot up. “Eight o’clock?”
I laughed and got off the bed. “I’d offer to make you coffee, but I can’t.”
He scrambled out of bed. “Doreen’s going to kill me.” He stopped, confused. “Why is it so dark?” Then his shoulders sagged, as if he just remembered the whole cyclone thing like I had just a few minutes ago. “Oh.”
“Dad’s here to help me take the boards off.”
He pulled on some shorts. I loved that he hated underwear. “I wish I could help,” he said, plucking a T-shirt off a hanger and pulling it over his head. “Doreen’s going to be so mad.”
I laughed. “No she won’t.”
He dashed into the bathroom to scrub his face and brush his teeth. “Try not to drink the water,” I said. “We’ll need to boil it from now on.”
He paused with his toothbrush in his hand. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
It made me smile that he was so stinkin’ smart, so switched on about all the genius stuff, but sometimes the basic stuff was lost on him. It was cute. “I’ll see if I can find us something to eat,” I said, leaving him to it.
I went back downstairs to some sunlight coming through the back glass door. Dad and Ellis already had one board off the panel. Mum was in the kitchen with some Weet-Bix on the counter. “The milk in your fridge will still be good for now. You may as well use it.”
Jeremiah came down the stairs with his boots in his hand. “Morning,” he said. “I’m really sorry I can’t stay. Doreen’s going to murder me.”
“Call her Dori,” I said with a grin. “Just to see what she does.”
Jeremiah stared at me, aghast. “I’ll do no such thing. I like my teeth where they are.”
I snorted. “You talk like she’s gone Lord-of-the-Flies mode and will have your head on a pike at the gate to warn off those less worthy.” I turned to my mum. “Doreen is like seventy years old.”
He pulled on one boot and stared at me. “Seventy, yes. But she has a shaved head, rides a motorbike and wields a baseball bat, and wears vagina shirts.”
I laughed but he went a shade of horrified pale and could barely look at my mother. “I’m so sorry.”
Mum shrugged. “I like the sound of her.”
I made him some Weet-Bix and pushed the bowl toward him. “You have time to eat. I promise you, Doreen won’t be mad. After yesterday, you could do or say anything and she won’t care. She was in awe of you yesterday.”
He pouted a little, which was hella cute. But he shook off his embarrassment about the vagina comment, pulled on his other boot, and spotted the box on the floor. “Oh, have we checked on the bird this morning?”
He picked the box up and slid it onto the counter and folded back the lid. “Is it still alive?” I asked.
Jeremiah reached in and picked up a very alive, very alert bird. “He sure is.”
It squawked and opened its beak, and Jeremiah cradled it to his chest. “It’s okay, little one. Don’t be stressed.” Then he looked at me. “What do we do with it? Is there someone we can take it to?”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Maybe we should keep him for another day or two, just to be sure. I’ve got minced meat and stuff in the fridge that needs to be used.”
Jeremiah made an uncertain face. “Are you sure?”
The way he was cradlin’ it, being so damn cute. God, it gave me butterflies. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Mum was smiling fondly at me, and I knew what she saw. Me gettin’ all bent out of shape over him. I shrugged because there was no point in denying it. I pushed the plate again. “Jeremiah, please eat something,” I said.
