Relief washed over Angelo. The farm seemed to have a revolving population of stray goats, and he wasn’t sure he fancied eating any of them. “What did you use instead?”
“Harry’s bottomless veg box and a tiny bit of mutton to keep Joe happy.”
Angelo laughed. The regular food battles between health-conscious Harry and carb-addict Joe was a constant source of amusement on the farm. “It’ll keep Dylan pretty happy too. He loves a ruby.”
“Good man.”
Jevon went back to his pot, and Angelo kept him company while learning how to make a vat of rice and peas. When the food was ready for whenever the troops came home, they decamped to the living room to shoot the shit.
“Rhys is so different with you around,” Angelo remarked while Jevon built a fire.
“You think?” Jevon glanced over his shoulder. “The last few months have been so crazy, it’s hard to tell what’s real sometimes.”
“He loves you.”
“I know. I’m a lucky man.”
Angelo knew what lucky felt like every time he woke up to find Dylan beside him, and Jevon’s easy affection when he spoke about Rhys was as warming as the flames licking the crackling logs. “When do you go back to your job overseas? I know you’ve already told me, but I forget stuff.”
“I’m flying out the day after Boxing Day. I’d stay longer, but it doesn’t really work like that.”
Angelo searched the Jevon section of his brain.Refugees, children, clowns.“When do you think Rhys will be able to join you?”
“Not for a while. Even without his ankle injury holding him up, the paperwork takes months.”
“I can see Rhys working in a refugee camp. He’s way nicer than he thinks he is.”
“Who’s nice?” Joe ambled through the door and flopped heavily on the couch. “If you’re talking about George, don’t be fooled. He’s a crafty old git.”
“I was talking about Rhys.”
Joe nodded slowly and scrubbed a hand down a face weary enough to make Angelo feel guilty for his afternoon in bed. “Fair point. He’s as sweet as Harry beneath all the growling and sarcasm.”
“Like you?” Jevon flicked a pinecone from the kindling pile in Joe’s general direction.
Joe caught the cone with a shrug. “If you say so.”
Jevon said nothing at all. Just stoked the fire high enough to cast an orange glow about the room and retreated to the other end of the couch while Joe slumped lower, his dark hair falling into his face.
Angelo nudged him before he fell asleep. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. Is there anything you need doing for Christmas Day? Harry said you’ve got eighteen coming for dinner.”
Joe opened his eyes with a groan. “Fuck. I forgot to pick up the turkey.”
“Get it tomorrow, man,” Jevon said. “You’ve done enough today.”
Angelo hummed his agreement. “I’ll fetch it and anything else you need from town. Write a list.”
“You can’t read my tiny handwriting, remember? It gives you migraines.”
“Get Harry to write it then.”
Joe grumbled something unintelligible and closed his eyes again. Angelo let him be, and when he wound up stretched out with his head on Angelo’s thigh, chucked a blanket over him.
“I like that,” Jevon remarked softly.
“What?”
“How good you all are to each other. I thought it was a sex club thing with you and Rhys, but you’re all like it.”
