Page 22 of Under Water

I do my best not to grimace at his nut-scented treat, and I shove it into my back pocket. “You’re a good guy, rook. See you at work?”

He nods, then stops. “Actually, I’m taking a couple days off. I’m helping a friend move into town. But after that?”

“You know I’ll be there,” I tell him. Because I will. Because that is my life. Work, kid, parents…and the occasional dinner with a friend that ends in my kid being carted to the ER in an ambulance.

And with that, and a hefty dose of pining for a guy I can’t have, I want to fling myself straight into the sun.

FIVE

EASTON

Lifting my sandwich toward my mouth, I inhale and prepare to take a bite when it’s suddenly slapped out of my hand with a sharp “Yah!”

That’s never happened to me before, so I have no idea how the fuck to respond. It takes me a full ten seconds to turn my head and see Ozzie standing over me, breath heaving in his chest.

“Bro. What the fuck?”

Ozzie’s eyes are wide, and he points past me at the two ducks that have been hanging out in the yard with their brand-new babies. I blink. I still don’t get it.

“You can’t feed ducks bread! It’ll kill them!”

Pushing to my feet, I hold both my hands up in surrender. “It won’t kill them, but I also know you’re not supposed to feed ducks bread. That’s why I’ve been feeding them birdseed.” I point down to my feet, where I have a massive bag of wild duck food that I got from the feed store. “You just yeeted my lunch.”

Ozzie’s entire face blooms red. It’s a strange look on him. He’s young, and he looks it sometimes, but he also has a sharp-cut jaw and a dark five-o’clock shadow that is becoming less like a shadow and more like a perfectly trimmed hedge.

When he’s not looking surprised, sheepish, or confused, he actually has a decent resting murder face.

We just rarely get to see it around here.

“I’m so fucking sorry. Oh my god, I—” He starts turning purple.

“Oz. Breathe, buddy.”

He takes in a breath so hysterical and so deep, it wheezes going in and out.

“Okay, bud. Slower than that. Unless you want me to fetch the gas.”

“I know that’s illegal,” he mutters as he cups both hands around his mouth and nose and takes a few breaths. “I’m so fucking sorry. I ruined your sandwich.”

The ducks are staring at it like it’s poison, so at least I don’t need to call the wildlife sanctuary and find out what to do if a duck eats a mountain of salami and banana peppers.

But damn it, that was my spicy Italian. The one that North had made from fresh cuts and homemade bread. The one I had been saving. And preparing to savor.

“You can have mine,” Ozzie says quickly.

I sling my arm around his neck and yank him close. “I’m not taking food out of the baby’s mouth.”

“Fuck off. I am twenty-four!”

“Twenty-four, fetus, same-same,” I tell him, giving him a tiny shake. “Seriously, it’s fine. North probably left a grip of supplies in the fridge. I’ll make a new sandwich, no ducks were harmed, and we will both be fed.”

He bows his head. “I don’t mean to do that kind of stuff, you know?”

“Save ducks?”

He manages something like a smile as he steps out of my grasp. “Overreact. I think I’m pretty good about handling it on the job, but when I was young, everyone called me Chicken Little.”

“Oh, bud…”