“It’s his lizard,” Hunter says, looking increasingly tired. “Not a person. He’s not at school?”
“No, I took him home for the weekend.”
A lizard. He’s this worried over a reptile? “I’m sure the creature is fine.” They aren’t like dogs or cats, where they need constant attention. Are they?
“He needs feeding every day. And Sunday is his bath day. What if they hurt him? Or—or took him. Maybe they eat lizards!” The last sentence is said borderline hysterically.
“They weren’t there to eat your lizard, they were there to kill you,” Miles says abruptly. He’s staring at Matthew like he’s a new species he’s just discovered. It certainly feels that way. “A lizard assassination wouldn’t require that kind of firepower.”
I can’t believe he just said the words “lizard assassination.” How cute.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Matthew stalks towards the door. “I have to go get him.”
Hunter stops him with a hand on his stomach. “I don’t think so; you aren’t leaving this house until we can ensure your safety.”
A warmth curls in my stomach at the use of the word “we.” Including us in the statement means that he’s accepted we aren’t going anywhere.
“I can’t just leave him there. He’s relying on me. He won’t survive in a cage all by himself, and what if he’s scared all alone?”
“Do lizards feel fear?” Miles asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know! Maybe! I’m sure feeling a lot of it right now.”
Hunter sighs and rubs his forehead. “I’ll go and get it. Any particular instructions?”
“He’s in a bigger enclosure at home, but you can transfer him to the smaller one that I use when he’s at school. He doesn’t bite, don’t worry.”
Hunter narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t worried about that, but now I am. Do they bite?”
“I think they can. He doesn’t.”
“Anything else?”
“Make sure you get his water bowl and his food bowl. His fruits and vegetables are in the fridge, and so are the worms. He eats crickets, too, but he’s run out, and I was going to get some more tomorrow. Dead ones, not live ones. I can’t stomach feeding him live anything, but he has a vibrating bowl that mimics them moving, so that it entices him. Uh, oh, and blueberries.”
“Worms,” Hunter repeats. “And dead crickets.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Okay. Forget the fruits and vegetables, we have some here. I’ll see what I can do about the rest.”
An errand to rescue a lizard. Not how I saw the day going. “You aren’t going alone.” If he thinks I’m allowing him to leave this house unprotected, he has another thing coming. “Take Miles with you.”
“And leave you here with Matthew?”
“You were about to leave both Miles and me with him,” I point out. Halving the equation can’t make things worse, surely. “Don’t worry, I’ll give him back to you exactly the way he came.”
“Reassuring.”
“Uh…” Matthew looks between us, head turning to and fro. “I could come with—”
“No. If they come back, Miles and I will handle them more efficiently if we don’t have to worry about you as well.”
Matthew sits back down on his stool heavily. Something tells me he needs some more of his special coffee. “I don’t want to know what that means, do I?”
“It means—”
“It means we’ll handle them,” Hunter interrupts Miles, shooting him a warning look. “Stay here, we won’t be long.”
“Keep him safe,” I order Miles, who nods sharply. The request is unnecessary, but I’m a firm believer in never letting words go unsaid. Regret is a beast I know all too well, and I never make the same mistake twice. Not when the first cost me everything.
Matthew closes his eyes, hunching over the counter, mug back in his grip. It doesn’t look like he’s taken a single sip of the liquid.
