“What are you doing?” I reach for the remote, and she pulls it out of the way. “You can’t pause a movie when they are fighting for the egg,” she laughs and dances out of my reach.
“I’m putting the dishes away; they are in the way,” she says, tucking the remote in her pajama pants, and gathers the dirty dishes.
“I can’t believe you did that. The barracks would have your hide if you ever did that on base.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not on base.”
“You sly little snot,” I tease, and she sashays her way into the kitchen.
“That’s not fair,” I call out, putting the TV trays away.
“Yes, it is,” she says, coming back in and cuddling up next to me. “I can’t concentrate with those there.” She leans her head against my shoulder, Rowdy lying at our feet.
"Which one are we on again?" I ask.
"Four. The tournament one." She yawns. "The no-nose man comes in at the end."
"Does he die?"
"Watch and find out."
"Falon."
"Bo," she sasses back.
I settle in.
Somewhere around the part when Harry and the crazy eye guy are talking, her breathing evens out, and her hand resting on my arm goes still. I look down. She's asleep, her hair fanned across my shoulder, mouth slightly open, completely unbothered by whatever's happening on screen.
Rowdy lifts his head, checks her, checks me, and puts his head back down.
I watched the rest of the movie.
The no-nose man does not die. I have thoughts about this.
But Falon is warm against my shoulder, and Rowdy is a solid weight across my feet, and the farmhouse is quiet around us. It’s late, and I don’t want to move.
I reach up and turn off the lamp.
Outside, Frank is mercifully silent.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don't want to be anywhere else in the world.
Chapter 18
Ending Kevin For Real
Falon
The morning starts a little bumpy. First, there is a bug in my boot.
It isn’t a spider. I need to clarify, because a spider would require burning the boot. This is just a Montana beetle. A fat, lost bug.
I retrieve my boot from where I'd thrown it after finding the bug inside, then shake the beetle out onto the porch.Noted.
After that, I turn to the usual Montana routine. I start splitting some wood to start stocking up for winter.
That’s when the ax handle comes off on the second swing, clean off. I pulled the ax back, felt the handle come loose, and saw the head drop into the dirt at my heels. The handle stayed in my hands. I stare down at the useless stick, then at the ax head in the dirt, and think,okay. So this is how the day’s going to roll. Alright. I can roll with this. Just have to make a few minor adjustments for the day, that’s all.
