Page 57 of Yard Sale

Of course I wasn’t about to get started without them. I still burned water trying to make oatmeal on a good day. But I could do coffee. And toast. Maybe some eggs because I knew Tiago was going to need protein.

As I started the coffee going, I leaned against the sink and peered out the window. I had an unobstructed view of the ocean just beyond the pool, and there was nothing better than watching the sun rise over the low Atlantic waves.

The water was a deep navy—nearly black so early in the morning. There were low clouds, which promised rain, and I didn’t mind. It was my favorite kind of weather.

It was probably going to put a damper on Tiago’s family’s beach day, but I wasn’t sad about that. They deserved to sit in their fucking discomfort.

BZZT! BZZT!

I was just popping open my viloxazine bottle when my phone buzzed, and I snatched it up, glaring at the screen until I noticed it was my dad.

“It’s way too fucking early for this call,” I said as I swallowed down my pill with a handful of sink water. “Tell me it’s not an emergency.”

“I saw through the doorbell cam that you brought someone home. And it looked like Nadeau.”

Of fucking course he would have looked. I’d forgotten about that goddamn bit of security. “Quit spying on me, weirdo.”

“Why is Tiago Nadeau in our beach house?” he pressed.

I groaned into my hand, then walked over to snatch a mug from the cupboard. “His family has a place on the island. They also suck. Like…a lot. You would have punched someone in the face, Dad. I swear.”

“Beta…”

“I mean it. They were treating him like garbage. They’re making him share a room with his teenage nephew.”

He was quiet for a beat, and then he sighed. “Will he be there the entire time?”

“I mean…I can kick him out if you want.”

“No! Of course not. Not after everything he’s been through. But I thought you two didn’t like each other.”

“We’ve, ah—we’ve come to an understanding. And you don’t have to clutch any pearls, okay? I gave him my room, so neither of the aunties are displaced, and your room will be untouched.”

He groaned. “He can sleep in my bed, Aravind. The couch isn’t healthy for your back, and the last thing you need is to get sick.”

“I’m not going to get cholera and die from sleeping on the couch,” I started.

“It’s by the ocean. It’s damp.”

I was a thousand percent sure he was fucking with me at this point. “Anyway, he said he’s got an assistant or something who can find him a place to stay if you think it’ll be too crowded.”

“If you’re okay with having him there, I’m okay with it. But remember, you’re at the house to recover from everything.”

Everything. Shitty job, shitty breakup, the still-aching grief of losing Mom.

But Tiago wasn’t making it worse. No, it was quite the opposite.

I sipped on the hot, bitter coffee, then set it down and rummaged through the fridge for creamer. It was the grocery store-brand Italian sweet cream flavor, which was good enough.

“I miss you,” I told him after a long silence.

He sighed into the phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have a few meetings with Derek, and then I have to fly up to Montreal, but I’ll be there next weekend.”

Derek…it took me a moment to put a face to the name. He was the Glaciers’ GM, also recently hired on after the shitshow that was Noah’s tenure with the team.

I didn’t know him, but my dad didn’t hate him, so that was something.

“I’m going to go. I need coffee and food.”