I nod.
Mabel opens the door.
Heath and Lavender are on the front porch.
Heath’s sporting a massive bruise on his right eye and carrying the cat.
Lavender’s carrying the fishing pole.
They both look at my shirt.
I cross my arms over the dick as best I can.
“Thanks for sharing your space,” Mabel says to Heath.
“It won’t be for long,” I say. “I won’t—I won’t be here long.”
He looks at Lavender, then back at me, eyes flat. “All set then?”
“I—yes. I packed in the dark. At home. And I need to order some new clothes.”
“We have a storeroom downstairs with simple clothes and other personal items,” Mabel tells me.
“She’s seen worse,” Ginny murmurs.
Where I expect Heath to grimace or his eyes and mouth to tighten or him to sigh, he merely looks at me again. “You need a minute, or you want to come now?”
I need forty-three years to get over every bit of the past week, today included. “Now’s great. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Not my house,” he says. “Just where I live. We all take care of each other.”
He’s not thrilled with this arrangement. I can feel it.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
“I’m sorry about your eye,” I tell him.
One large shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Understandable reaction.”
“Can we play the game with the dragon stabbing you again? And cover you in blood?” Lavender asks me.
She’s my favorite part of today.
All wild imagination and complete acceptance of how we met with no obvious lingering trauma from the experience.
“I don’t really like showering right now, so only if it’s imaginary blood,” I reply.
Her eyes light up. “I don’t like showers either!”
I hold out a hand for a high five, remember the rhinestone dick on my shirt, and then also rethink high-fiving over not showering.
“There’s a high probability you’ll love them within the next ten years,” Mabel tells her.
Lavender meows.
Mabel meows back.
Lavender sticks her tongue out.
