Sam’s mouth set in a determined line, and he gave a firm nod. “Well, I’m your friend, and I’ll always be nice to you.” He looked back once in the direction of the house. “I have to go get my homework done or Jerry will come looking for me. We’re having pizza for dinner later, so I’ll bring some for you. What’s your favorite kind?”
I couldn’t guess the last time I’d had pizza, but the memories of nights hanging out with friends at Tony’s Pizza were still so fresh in my mind that I could almost taste the basil. Even though we were old enough to be considered adults, they’d give us crayons to color in the paper placemats, giggling like we didn’t have a care in the world. “Sausage and onion,” I said without hesitation.
Sam pulled a face that told me exactly what he thought of my choice, but he logged it in his brain anyway. “Gross, but I’ll see what I can do.” He hurried out. “See ya later, August.”
“See ya…” I called after him, throat tight until my voice was barely more than a whisper.
I managed to eat one sandwich before my stomach started to reject the thought of food. I did drink the water, though, and then refilled the bottle at the hose and drank that too. It took everything I had to clean myself up. The pain last night had been sharp, crisp and cutting, but it had morphed into a constant deep throb now, pulsing in time with my heart. The water was bracing, but I withstood it long enough to hose myself down. The water ran dark red, and I didn’t stop until it was clear. Instead of using the towel to dry myself, I rolled it up and used it under my ass to soak up any more blood that would gush out. Then I carefully dressed myself in Jerry’s clothes, practically swimming in the hoodie Sam had brought me.
I tried to convince myself that I felt better, even as the pain clawed at my insides, relentless. This was all normal after giving birth. All I needed was a little more sleep. I pulled the hood up and over my eyes, then slumped back into my corner, falling into a fever dream where I could hear Mia crying but couldn’t find her. And I swore I could smell pizza…
7
Lazlo
Thefarmhousewasgorgeous,bathed in warm evening light. Two stories, a real family home, the property large and green and everything I would’ve imagined—if I’d let myself get past the fact that I was here. Gods, what was I doing? My stomach was writhing with nerves, my palms slippery with sweat on my steering wheel, which I was still gripping white-knuckled even though the car was off. I was beyond nervous. Was this a date? It felt like a date. But maybe Jerry had just been grateful that I was coming to check on the baby. That seemed more likely.
I yoyoed back and forth, debating on what this whole thing meant. He’d invited me to dinner—sort of. Maybe I’d invited myself? Fuck.
Prying my fingers off the steering wheel, I forced myself to get out of the car. Date or not, I’d still promised to check on Ladybug.
The front door opened before I even got up the porch steps. Jerry’s smile was even more gorgeous than I’d remembered,now wide without all the stress of this morning weighing him down. His sharp jawline was softened by a couple days’ worth of whiskers, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with humor. “Hey, I was wondering when you were going to come inside.” His deep voice held a teasing lilt, and I felt a blush creep up my neck onto my cheeks.
I groaned, wincing. “You were watching?”
He nibbled on his lower lip, looking oddly shy as he stepped back to usher me inside, his hand brushing over my lower back as I stepped past him. “Just hoping you didn’t turn around and leave before I had a chance to woo you with food.”
Woo? So, it was a date—probably. “Consider me wooed,” I said, cheeks burning hotter. I tried to hold eye contact, but his gaze was too intense, and I quickly turned away to take off my shoes, lining them up on the rack beside the door.
Before I could take my coat off, his hands were there, peeling it back for me so he could hang it on a hook. “I hope you don’t mind takeout. It’s been a busy day.”
“I don’t mind at all. It smells delicious.” The house was filled with a rich scent of tomato, basil, and melted cheese, unmistakably pizza.
I looked around at the parts of the house I could see from here. The furniture had obviously been chosen for comfort over style, with deep cushions and throw blankets that beckoned with the promise of naps. The hardwood floors were scuffed and darkly stained from generations of family living, layered over with thick area rugs, all in mismatched colors.
Jerry led me toward the kitchen, and I lingered over all the pictures of kids lining the wall. “Your family?” I asked.
He turned back to see what I was looking at, and his smile turned fond. “Yes, those are all the foster kids who have stayed here through the years. They still send me updates from time to time.” He stepped through an open doorway, and I followed, thearoma of food growing stronger. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Coffee if you have it?” I asked, relaxing into the warmth of the home, with its lived-in comfort at every turn.
He turned, smirking, and held up his own mug. “I’m on my third cup. I worked late at the bar last night—where I work security—before the baby turned up here this morning.” He reached up into the cupboard and pulled down a second mug and filled it from the coffee pot on the counter. “Long day for you too?”
I blew out a breath, cheeks puffing out. “You have no idea. I had a burst pipe in the kitchen and ended up without water, so I decided to spend the night in a hotel. Except around 3am, another guest went into emergency labor, and I stepped in to help them deliver.”
Jerry was watching me with something that looked like awe. “You haven’t slept yet? Now I feel bad for making you come check on Ladybug.”
“You didn’t make me. I offered, and I promise I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t want to be here.” We shared a long look, the tension in the room building, like static against my skin. He finally broke it by reaching out with the mug, and our fingers brushed as I took it from him, sending an electric current straight up to my shoulder. The mug was warm, but I shivered regardless.
He cleared his throat but didn’t look away. “Milk or sugar?”
“Black is fine.” As a medical student, I’d gotten used to drinking the swill they served at the hospital, often in too much of a rush to bother dressing it up. This dark roast was luxury in comparison to that tar.
Jerry gestured toward the counter where a line of pizza boxes was set up, and my eyes went straight to where his colorful tattoos disappeared under the sleeve of his t-shirt, flexing withthe movement. Would it be rude if I asked to lick them? “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a selection. I’ve got a veggie, since I didn’t know if you liked meat?” He raised a brow in question.
“I do eat meat, but veggie is good too.”
He nodded, as if making a mental note of my preferences. “Then we have a meat lovers, in case youlovedmeat.” Jerry’s grin was just a little lewd and a whole lot suggestive.
