“We have dip,” Grady says, kissing the corner of my mouth. “It’s on the bottom shelf of the fridge, with the carrots.”
“Why are they fraternising with the carrots?”
“I think Felix was hoping it would encourage people to have some with their dip. A healthy alternative.”
I snicker. “So passive-aggressive. Should I cut up some carrots?”
“If you want.”
He helps by peeling the carrots so I can cut them into long strips. “Hmm.” I consider the tray, tilting my head while I think. “I should write words.” I carefully arrange them into the words “Eat me.” Not easy given the medium, but I manage it, artfully placing all the pieces. There’s one left over, so I munch on it. Grady holds out an opened dip, and I turn the carrot bit around to scoop up some with the not-bitten end. I’m not a neanderthal; I’m not going to double-dip.
When I’ve swallowed, he pulls me to him, kissing me softly, sharing the taste of the French onion. “Tastes good,” he murmurs.
“You taste good.” He always does, like he’s my own personal drug. I close my eyes and lean into him, burying my head against his warm chest. He wraps me up, hugging me tight.
“You’re my favourite person, GradyDonehue,” I murmur. In the whole world.
He kisses the top of my head, breathing me in. “I’d never do this with anyone but you, Lake Donehue.”
Damn, that sounds nice. “Not with Sebastian?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows. “After that dance at the wedding…”
“The one you both bullied me into?”
“Yeah, that one. It was hot.”
“I think I just threw up in my mouth.”
I laugh, and he captures it, sliding his tongue against mine, effectively shutting me up. It’s his favourite tactic. Mine too.
“I should have known you were in here making out like horny teenagers instead of getting us dip,” Felix says, shaking his head like we’ve disappointed his entire lineage. He stops at my carrot display. “Cute. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”
I tap my temple. “All right here in my noggin’.”
“God help us all.” He slides the tray off the bench. “I’ll make sure they’re eaten.”
I have no doubt he will. He’s persuasive if staring until someone does what they’re told is considered persuasive. It’s a form of persuasion.
Riley slinks into the room with a large empty red bowl that was a leftover from Christmas. It’s great for holding a large snack, like an entire family-packet of Cheetos. Mmm, Cheetos.
He was out during the start of the party, talking to everyone and slowly coming out of his shell, but eventually retreated to his bedroom to play Nintendo. I’m pretty sure that Will, Zach, and Lucas are in there playing Mario Kart with him. Better them than me; I’ve discovered that Riley is an absolute shark at Mario Kart. He uses paths that I didn’t even know existed and is lethal with that Blue Turtle. I need to start playing in secret to get my skills up.
“What are you after, kid?”
“How ’bout a beer?”
Grady snorts. “Nice try. There’s a sectioned snack plate over there if you want to take that and run. I recommend keeping Will away from the cheese, or you won’t get any.”
“Should I get him his own plate?”
I put my arm around his shoulders and squeeze. I just bet he’s gonna be taller than me when he stops growing. “That is a great idea, especially if you also want snacks. Will loves snacks.”
Riley nods seriously. “I get it. I love snacks too.”
“There’s a Fanta in the fridge,” Grady grunts. “Just take the whole thing and some of the Grinch cups from the pantry.”
“Cool.” He pauses at the doorway of the kitchen, precariously balancing everything, and looks back at us. “I like living here.”
“We like having you,” I reply, smiling wide. I’ve never regretted opening our home to him, and he’s brightened our lives just as much as we have his. He’s switched schools to onecloser, has made new—noncriminal—friends, started playing soccer, and is thriving. He’s volunteering at a nearby animal shelter and has even picked up some part-time work after school. A completely different kid than the one that Grady met almost a year ago now.
