“Hell no, I don’t mind Mary making me, us, a homemade breakfast. I hope she makes enough for leftovers.”
I made scrambled eggs and sausage most mornings, but it wasn’t anything fancy. The breakfast spread Mary described the night before, while we finalized this morning’s logistics, had my mouth watering.
Shane unlocked my door and ushered me in.
“You cleaned my apartment?” I wasn’t a slob, but I’d left socks on the floor in the living room and there were dishes in my sink when I raced out after getting Jamie’s 9-1-1 text.
He chuckled. “It’s not like it was a mess, and I didn’t want you coming home to my dirty dishes.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. I changed your sheets and washed them. I’ll swap them out again today.”
“I’d say you didn’t need to do all that, but yeah, I would’ve done the same.” No dude wanted to sleep on another dude’s sweaty sheets.
“I cleared your gun; it’s in your safe.”
It took three and a half seconds to remember I’d asked John to take it at the scene. He must’ve given to Shane, who, as my beneficiary, had my safe’s key code.
“Thanks.”
“When will they get here?” Shane asked.
“John said he’d text when they leave Jamie’s. I expect Madi’ll want some time with her niece and nephew before coming over.”
Shane nodded, looking me up and down. “You think you can manage a shower?”
“If I do it before the morphine wears off.” I headed for the kitchen. “Feel like helping me wrap this bad boy?” The burn bandage on my arm was surrounded by a removable cast. The joys of having a broken bone under third-degree burns.
I reminded myself that while it sucked, I still had my arm and after a little physical therapy, I’d be good as new.
The tat on my forearm, however, would never be the same. It now had a big chunk of pale-as-fuck flesh cutting across the middle.
After my shower, I threw on jeans and a T-shirt.
Shane and I sat down at the kitchen table with coffee, Grannie’s blend, of course, and caught up on work. I had a tonof paperwork to file for SSI, including sending in a copy of my police statement. The PD was kind enough to send officers to the hospital to take it. Madi’s too.
I’d just closed my laptop when my phone buzzed.
John: We’re on our way. Mary wants me to ask if you need anything.
Like mother, like daughter.
We’re good, thanks.
“They’re on their way.”
“I’ll make another pot.” Shane typed for another minute before closing his laptop.
“Can you help me pull out the table, then I’ll set it.” My table would be a tight fit for five people, and I’d have to sit on a stool, but it’d work.
Like any other typical bachelor, I didn’t have fancy plates. Nor did I have enough for everyone to have a dinner plate, so I set a pair of smaller plates at my seat. I might not be the best prepared host, but I was a polite one.
“You have any serving platters?”
Shane laughed when I handed him a large wood cutting board. “I have this.”
“We’ll make it work.”
