call you if I think of anything,” he said. “I’ll email the landlord and let him know you’re staying here to keep the place for me.”
Josh looked at his son uncertainly. “Tucker… I know you didn’t ask anything, but you know, we could pay a little toward—”
“No,” Tucker said, holding his hand up to forestall any argument. “The rent is paid from my parents’ trust. I’ve hardly touched it, really. Mostly it just sits there and accrues interest, and I use that to pay bills.” He smiled briefly, hoping the expression reassured Andy. “It’ll be worth it to me to know I’ll still have a place in the city in case Daisy Place gets swallowed by a hole in the earth, right?”
Andy shuddered. “You say that like it’s not a very real possibility. Now let’s go eat. Dad, you promised you’d treat.”
JOSH TOOK them to Cheesecake Factory and treated them both. Tucker ordered a hamburger and a slice of chocolate-swirl cheesecake and listened to Josh and Andy tease him about his metabolism.
He didn’t have the heart to tell them that it was part and parcel of the whole psychic gig—and that it probably meant his lifespan would be cut a little short because of it. His superhigh metabolism was just more proof that nothing came without a price.
HE’D RECOVERED some of his equanimity by the time they got back to Daisy Place. Andy stayed in the city, much as his mom had predicted. Josh was keeping the truck for the day so he could haul Andy’s stuff into the city in the morning, provided he spent the night okay.
Tucker hoped with all his heart that most of the sadness would disappear with Tucker and his measly possessions. He wouldn’t wish his problems on anybody, much less Andover Greenaway.
About halfway up the hill, Tucker dozed off, arms folded, head resting against the window. Josh pulled up the driveway and ordered him into the house.
“In bed, Tucker—there’s nothing here that will need two people. You look like one of the ghosts that’s supposed to live here.”
Tucker barely remembered to step aside as the grand tide of ghosts ebbed and surged, but after the churning movement in the psychic sphere had eased, they made it inside. He even managed to turn on the lights, both inside and outside, so Josh could come in through the kitchen. Angel was waiting for him at the table, Squishbeans lying in the middle of a place mat in front of him, asleep on her back, paws outstretched to the world.
“Oh, Tucker!” Angel said happily. “You’re home! I’ve made the most excellent—never mind. You’re exhausted. My discovery can wait. Let’s get you to bed.”
Tucker was too tired to even scowl. “Angel, look at you, all human and everything. I like it.”
Angel’s face fell, his excitement fading away. “Oh, Tucker. I hope you’re not counting on me to be human. I am doing my best, but I’m not sure—”
“Don’t sweat it,” Tucker mumbled, stumbling to his room. He didn’t even need to turn the light on. He found the bed on instinct and kicked off his shoes. Then he fell face-first onto the pillow, too weak to be embarrassed that it was barely eight o’clock at night.
“I just don’t want you to rely on me for something I can’t—”
“I said don’t worry,” Tucker told him, meaning it. “You’re a better human being than I ever was, even if you were never human.”
And that’s the last thing he remembered saying for a while.
He believed that with all his soul. It’s what allowed him to feel safe while Angel was watching him sleep.
HE WOKE up sometime in the night to take off his clothes and use the bathroom. Angel’s voice from the bed didn’t startle him at all.
“Tucker, you’re not sleeping well.”
“Just uncomfortable,” he mumbled. The mattress hadn’t gotten any better since that first night, it was true, but there were so many other things to worry about now.
“You’re crying.”
Wonderful. “If you’re going to be a man, you need to not mention the crying,” he replied, voice clogged. “It’s not polite.”
“So can I mention the crying now?”
Tucker half laughed—in the light from the bathroom, he could see that Angel was now a slim brunet with long straight hair, dusky skin, and smoky green eyes.
“Very sexy,” he muttered. “But you don’t have to change for me.”
“But can I talk about the crying now?” she demanded plaintively.
“No,” he said. He turned out the light and crawled back into bed. It was probably his