All the Rules of Heaven (All That Heaven Will Allow #1) - Amy Lane Page 0,15

in the remaining butter.

“It’s just that we don’t know what will happen if you start replacing objects and taking down walls.” Angel wrung his hands—actually wrung his hands—like an aggrieved ’50s movie heroine.

“What will happen?” Tucker rolled his eyes. “What will happen is that I’ll be less inclined to hang myself from the ceiling fan and create a new cursed object!”

“You’d do that?” Angel asked. And now that the echoes of their bickering had died down, Tucker heard shock and concern.

He sighed and threw the roast beef on the bread and then added the onions he’d browned earlier. Unbidden, he remembered those days after Damien… after the funeral. He’d crawled into bed for days, barely surfacing to go to the bathroom. The only thing that had pulled him out of bed was the same thing that always pulled him—the painful punch to the gut that said it was time to go change somebody’s life. He’d managed a shower, and clean clothes that had hung on him like rags, and he’d even made it into the restaurant. He had no clear memory of the young man or the sex in a cheap hotel that had followed. What he did remember was the guy on the phone the next morning, whispering to his best friend, “Lor, you’ve got to come and get me. I think I slept with a homeless man last night. You’re right. I’ll go to rehab. This is it—I’ve totally hit rock bottom, and I need to change my life.”

Tucker had feigned sleep and waited until the guy left, and then he’d cried. He’d wept for hours, until the maid had kicked him out and he’d dragged his sorry ass home.

He’d spent the rest of the day cleaning and vacuuming—and shaving—and when he’d gone to bed that night, he’d made a resolution.

This was a calling, and it had been since that first blowjob in McDonald’s. His job was to help people through the most painful decisions of their lives. And whether he liked it or not, his natural sex positivity and pansexuality was the catalyst. So it was like the priesthood, except sort of the opposite. He could either drink and mope his way through it, or he could enjoy the things he had.

“Once,” he said now in response to Angel’s question. “Once it was that bad. As to whether or not it gets that bad again, I’ll leave that to you to sort out.”

Angel was quiet for a while, and Tucker sort of forgot he was there. He sat down with his sandwich and a glass of milk, grateful for the coolness of the milk and the way the grilled onions burst butter on his tongue. He was savoring another bite of his sandwich when Angel spoke, startling him.

“Will you miss your home?”

“That depends,” Tucker said after he swallowed.

“On what?”

“If I’m allowed to make this freakshow into a new one.”

“Your aunt didn’t want anything changed,” Angel said humbly.

Tucker sighed. “She was probably like me,” he said after chewing for a moment.

“How?”

“This thing you want me to do—give up the things I want to channel ghosts or help people make epiphanies or, hell, generally transition whether it’s in life or death—this thing is not easy. Or fun. In fact, it’s sort of ruined my life. So when I sit down to eat, I want my goddamned sandwich just the way I want it. ’Cause it’s the thing that gets me through the day.”

“She wanted the house the way she remembered because it comforted her.” Angel’s voice was full of dawning realization, and Tucker couldn’t blame him for his obtuseness if he was willing to consider someone else’s thoughts.

“Yup.”

“You want to change it because you want something that’s yours.” And now Angel’s voice was full of understanding—another epiphany—and Tucker’s resentment faded a little.

“Bingo!”

Angel gazed off past Tucker’s left ear, and for a moment, the shape of the person Tucker had seen all day faded a little, like a picture in the sun. It returned, and Angel’s hair was darker, his face a little longer. Not a dead ringer for Damien now, but more like his older brother.

Tucker blinked at him, and he blinked back, apparently not even registering that he’d changed.

“Who in the fuck are you?” Tucker asked, his voice surprisingly level.

“I’m Angel.” He offered a complacent smile, and Tucker rolled his eyes. That was probably all the answer he’d get for now.

He took a breath and finished his sandwich.

AFTERWARD HE washed up and stepped out onto the porch, looking