“Noah,” Cole sighs.
I reach across the table and gently steady Noah’s wrist.
“No more flooding,” I tell him. “Professional hot-chocolate stirrers keep the liquid inside the cup.”
Noah gives me a solemn nod and resumes stirring with exaggerated care.
Cole huffs a laugh. “How do you do that? I say the same thing and he acts like we’re brainstorming.”
“You’re his dad,” I point out, mopping up the spill. “Kids test the person they feel safest with . It’s a compliment, really.”
A softness flickers across Cole’s face before it dissolves into another yawn.
“You haven’t slept.”
“I’m fine,” he lies. “It’s not…” His voice trails off.
“Xaden?” I offer.
Cole flushes. “No. I mean, yes. But it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
He fidgets with his sleeves.
My urge to hunt Bailey down and shake answers out of him intensifies.
Then the bell jingles and Earl Davenport bursts inside. He’s the town baker, a guileless, timid man who often seeks my advice.
“Emergency!” he cries, waving a crumpled letter. “My heavens, the pressure!”
“What is it?” I ask, guiding him toward a spare chair before he vibrates out of his shoes.
“It’s my special friend Maija,” he gasps, collapsing into the seat. “She wantsto Zoom.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it?” Earl looks offended. “Do you know what Zoom does, Caspian? It. Zooms. In.” He clutches his chest. “Why the sudden need to access my face?”
“Maybe she wants to connect on a deeper level,” I suggest, squeezing Earl’s shoulder. That usually calms him down. “She likes you.”
“No one has ever liked me before,” Earl whispers.
He gasps. “She’ll see Bob!”
“Who’s Bob?” I ask.
“My pride and joy,” Earl replies, puffing out his chest. “If Maija’s letter isn’t a mating call, I don’t know what is.”
“What’s a mating call?” Noah asks.
“Biology,” Cole replies, ears turning bright pink.
Earl sinks into mournful silence.
“I’ll help you set it up,” I promise, leaning forward. “We can make a practice call with Cole before you call Maija.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” Cole says, his voice warm.
