“Jari said he liked this kind of cake,” I answered around the cherry.
“Right.” That was all he said. I swallowed. “Jari. The new tenant in the pool house. Nice guy?”
Kirby and I had no secrets. Well, mostly none.
“Very nice. Plays hockey for the Railers.” I focused on de-stemming cherries as it seemed to be the only thing I could do with any amount of talent. A long, long, long moment crawled by as the gas range warmed with a soft poof. I chanced a glance at my best friend. He met my look with one I knew all too well. “Don’t,” I warned with a shake of a cherry at him.
“Cam, why is that guy living in your pool house?”
God damn it. I told him don’t. “Because he’s new in town and was staying in a hotel with stiff towels. My towels are soft.”
“Seriously?” He didnotlook convinced. I wouldn’t have been either if the shoe were on the other foot. But not one to admit my reasoning for doing something was lame, I pushed onward.
“Yeah. They suck. They’re not soft. You know how much I hate stiff towels. So, when he said he was still looking for a place in town but lacked time, I—being a kind and compassionate human being with a house the size of Edinburgh Castle—offered him the use of my pool house. Simple explanation, so you can wipe that look off your face.”
“Cam…”
“Don’t. This is not that.” Gah, that lie tasted bitter. I ate another cherry. It helped, but just for a moment. “He’s a nice guy. Quiet, reserved, new to the city. We’re friends. Can’t I be compassionate without getting that bogey-eyed look from you and Yanni?”
“Yanni knows this guy is living with you?” He seemed hurt.
I put the jar of cherries down. “First off, he is not living with me; he’s crashing in my pool house. Big distinction. Second, Yanni doesn’t know about it because it’s just a temporary thing until Jari can get settled in a new place, so there was no need to tellanyone, but he gives me looks just like you do. The only reason you know is that your wife immediately jumped to some sordid conclusions about me, him, and my benevolent nature.”
He lowered his mug to the counter between us. “I’m not jumping. Honestly, I am not doing that at all.” I cocked a brow as I ate another cherry. “Hand to God I’m not?—”
“You risk being smote. Maybe you can use that to kill off some poor hapless human in your book. Dude gets ahead of himself and—CRACK—a bolt out of the blue strikes him down.”
“Your sarcasm is showing,” he said, and I shrugged. “Okay, I’m handling this badly. You’d think a man who works withwords would be better with them when dealing with real people. Fictional ones are generally much easier to get to see your point.”
“Really?”
“No, my characters give me the middle finger then lob Molotov cocktails at my outline all the time.”
“So made-up people get the better of you.”
“Yeah, usually. Anyway, my point was that I’m not going about this subject properly. I know that you’re a good, loving, and sweet man who wants to help everyone, all the time, anywhere on the planet.”
I rolled my eyes as I ate yet another cherry. This cake was going nowhere fast and would be short of the required number of cherries to plop into the pineapple holes.
“Anywhere on the planet is a stretch,” I huffed while chewing the final cherry I would steal from the jar.
“Really? Didn’t you fly to Ireland to help a sheep farmer four years ago?”
“He was in a tight spot. About to lose his farm and his herding dogs, so I invested in his farm and, if I may point out, I have made lots of money off that investment as well as getting a lovely handmade woolen sweater from his wife every Christmas since. Also, I got to drink Guinness as it should be drunk—in a pub in Dublin—and got to kiss the Blarney Stone. I’d call that a wise, philanthropic trip.”
He exhaled so loudly I feared he would pass out, tumble from the stool, and crack his red head open on the imported tile floor.
“Okay, fine, I can see that this is a tender spot with you today.” He placed his forearms on the counter. I began tossing butter sticks into a pan to make a glaze. This seemed easy. I could do this. Jari would be so surprised when he got back from his road trip later today. He’d smile, which he didn’t do nearly as often as he should because he was a glorious sight when he—“Cam, I just need you to realize that you’re displaying some behavior that might be worrisome. And hey, buddy, I know all about worrisome behaviors.”
My gaze instantly darted to his forearms, where the white scars of his days in the darkness were visible. He used to hide them, but not anymore. He said they were battle scars. Damn right they were. He was a fucking warrior.
“I’m sorry if I sound short. I know you’re coming from a place of love,” I said softly. “It’s just really frustrating at times to not be able to do one thing from the goodness of your heart without someone judging you about it.”
“Cam, I amnotjudging. We don’t do that, remember?” I nodded. “I’m just pointing out that you seem to be close to stepping into a situation where your benevolent nature might bow down to the need that you have to help everyone out of any tiny scrape they find themselves in. I know you mean well, I do, hey, I know you better than anyone. Your heart is as big as HP&L Field, and you love to help people. That is one of the most incredible things about you. I know. I had your help for years. It was the only thing that pulled me through my depression.”
“No, that was you fighting back to get better. That was you. All I did was stand beside you and hold your hand.”
“No, you did way more than that, but it’s…” He ran a hand through his mop of cinnamon hair. “What I’m trying to say so badly is to just be aware that you might be entering a relationship with this Jari guy… don’t pull that face.” I wiped the sour look from my mug with a buttery hand. “Funny. Look, just be mindful. That’s all I’m saying.”
