My voice didn’t carry. I guessed it was lucky the house wasn’t burning down or something. But it was only a couple of minutes before Mason appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in his scrubs. His hair was pulled into his usual bun, and he had fresh Band-Aids on yesterday’s goose-related injuries.
“Mason?”
He heard me this time.
“What’s up?” he asked as he headed down the stairs.
“Dog’s limping,” I said.
Mason held out his arms when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and I hefted Dog over to him. Mason scooted him into the treatment room, flicking on the lights.
“There we go,” he said, reaching for a pair of tweezers while he cradled Dog in the crook of his arm. “Someone got a burr between his hairy hobbit toes.”
Dog didn’t even flinch when Mason pulled the burr out. I wasn’t sure he even noticed.
“Grab that iodine spray and give his toes a blast,” Mason said, nodding at the bottle on the counter. “Yep, that’s the one.” He bundled Dog back to me when I was done. “Now don’t let him down for a couple minutes, or he’ll leave sticky yellow footprints all over the place.”
“And I’ll have to mop them,” I said.
Mason laughed.
We had our pastries while I held Dog like a baby and tried to make sure the pastry went into my mouth and not his.
“You know you don’t have to bring me breakfast every day,” Mason said. “Though I do appreciate it.”
I shrugged, heat rising in my face. “I like to.”
I wasn’t sure those scant words told the whole story. It was rare for me to feel comfortable anywhere outside of home orSunny Fields. Hell, even Sunny Fields could sometimes be a mixed bag because not all the staff and residents were patient with the janitor who struggled to get his words out. But between Grandma Jane and Mr. Conrad, things were pretty good there. But here was different. Here, I didn’t have anyone already on my side and looking out for me like Grandma Jane had when she’d gotten me the job at Sunny Fields. Here I wasn’t anyone’s unofficial grandson and whoever messed with me would have to deal with Jane in Angry Grandma mode. Which I hadn’t seen often, but it sure was a sight to behold when it happened.
Here, it was just me—not Jane’s unofficial grandson, and not half of the package deal of Chase and Cash—and it turned out that just me was enough. That was new. And new usually meant scary, which it still was, a little bit, but it wasn’tjustscary. I was proud of who I was here, and I liked that.
I liked having breakfast with Mason and Dog, and I liked that I felt at home here. And I liked that it felt like I was making Mason’s day better too.
I wasn’t sure yet if I liked this weird new sensation that felt like attraction to Mason, but maybe I’d know the answer to that when I understood it some more. And I figured Mr. Conrad, who knew more about my past than anyone except Chase, would be a good place to start.
My shifttechnically ended at four, but a half hour after that I walked past Mr. Conrad’s door for the fifth time, unable to bring myself either to knock or to run away. It was like I was attached to his doorknob by a piece of elastic, and as soon as I got too far away, it retracted and brought me twanging right back.
I walked to the end of the corridor, thought hard about leaving, and then turned around and walked back.
This time Mr. Conrad’s door was open, and he was leaning there, eyes crinkled with a smile. “Something bothering you, son?”
I shook my head.
“Your sneakers squeak on the linoleum,” he said. “You sound like a doggy chew toy.” He stepped back from the open door. “Come on in.”
I followed him inside.
Mr. Conrad sat down at his table, and I took the seat opposite him and automatically reached for the closest tub of Lego blocks. I didn’t bother to look at the instructions yet. I just liked the feel of the blocks, clicking them together and then pulling them apart.
“I might be gay,” I said at last.
Mr. Conrad took a sip from his mug of coffee. “You don’t sound sure about that.”
I nodded, studying a block like it might have all the answers printed on it somewhere. “I didn’t think I was anything before now.”
“That’s a thing too,” Mr. Conrad said. “There’s a word for everything these days. You listen to half the folk in here and they’ll go on for hours about how they’re tired of woke nonsense.” He shrugged. “They’re fools. Having more words to describe ourselves, to understand ourselves, is an incredible gift. It makes us think, and that’s no bad thing. More people oughta do it.”
I turned his words over in my head for a while. Turned the blocks over in my hand. “Chase is gay. When I was a kid, I thought I probably was too, since we’re like, the same. But when he started messing around with guys, I didn’t want to do that. Not with anyone.”
