to make sure there’s no long-term effects,” he said. “And I’d love to be able to see if the stock I make tonight is different in any way. And….” He blew out a breath. “I’ve got nothing, except I feel like there’s a reason for me to be there, you know?”
Alex’s almost transparent eyebrows lifted elegantly. “Have you seen our front yard?” he said, gesturing to all of the weirdness encapsulated therein. “If you got a feeling you should do something, I say go for it! Do it! Wiggle your nose and light a candle, Barty—it’s all we got.”
Bartholomew wrinkled and unwrinkled his nose, and Alex hid a smile behind his hand.
Lachlan laughed out loud. “Now it just looks like you smelled something,” he said, then looked around nervously. “But maybe we should get our stuff and go inside. You can show me your etchings.”
Bartholomew’s eyes got big. “I need to check my stores!” he said, talking about the big shelves in the garage filled with baking supplies. “If any of these asshole animals got in my flour, I’m grabbing my Ren Faire sword and going medieval on them. Dammit!” He took the key from Alex’s outstretched hand and grabbed Lachlan, then headed for Dante and Cully’s house.
They avoided the paving stones across the lawn and around the tree and stuck to the concrete because there was less chance of snakes, and it was easier to step over the squirrels that way. As they did, both Bartholomew and Lachlan gave a shudder as a cold iron thread seemed to pluck at their vitals.
“Geez, Tolly, whatever you guys did, you need to apologize,” Lachlan said, and Bartholomew nodded.
“I really am sorry,” he said. “I—I should have had the courage to at least admit I wanted you.”
Almost in answer, the squirrels picked up pace and the cats began a merciless yowling.
“Jesus, Tolly, what did you say?”
“I was telling the truth!” Bartholomew burst out, hurrying toward Dante and Cully’s porch. “I’m sorry! I suck! Some of this is my fault!” And with that, he unlocked the door and fell over the threshold.
And immediately knew why Alex was so unnerved.
Dante! Come here and try this on! It’s gonna look fabulous!
Sure. Fine. But I’m telling you, I don’t have the boobs for this dress.
Oh ha-ha. You like it, right? It’ll look good, right?
Yeah, yeah. You’re super talented, you know it. See these? The gathering things? I’ve never seen them anywhere else.
Thanks, Dante. You’re going to come to this next one, right?
Have I missed an opening night? Ever?
No. Thanks. I need you there. You’re my good luck charm.
Yeah. That’s what I am. A good luck charm.
Bartholomew stood in their entryway and absorbed the conversation, not sure how he could hear it but knowing it had happened.
“Tolly?” Lachlan said behind him. “Are we going in?”
Bartholomew took a few more steps and closed the door behind Lachlan and then stood in the entryway again. “Stand here,” he said, too unnerved to worry about giving orders. “And close your eyes. Tell me what you hear.”
Dante!
Yeah, C—coming. Coming, baby. Don’t worry. I’m here.
Sorry, Dante. Another dream.
Yeah—that was a bad one. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.
Wandering. I was wandering in fog, and I couldn’t find you.
Right here, C. Don’t worry. Have I ever let anything happen to you?
No. Never.
I’ll be here as long as you need me. I promised.
Yeah. Thanks, Dante. Don’t… don’t go back yet, okay?
Yeah, C. I’m here.
Bartholomew’s eyes snapped open, and he grunted in a sort of pain.
“What?” Lachlan asked. “It… it sounded like a TV, like it was playing in the garage.”
“What show did you hear?” Bartholomew asked.
“A romance?” Lachlan shrugged. “I don’t know. It was like music and murmuring but no words. What did you hear?”
“A conversation between my friends,” Bartholomew said unhappily. “A private one.”
Lachlan leaned back. “Like, uh, private-private?” There was no mistaking his meaning, and Bartholomew, with his new knowledge, had to laugh and blush at the same time.
But he also had this new knowledge, and he could say with certainty that the things he’d heard, while everyday and not naked at all, had been almost more private than what he and Lachlan had spent their afternoon doing. “Not… they weren’t making love,” Bartholomew said, not returning his leer. “But they were… were falling in love, I think. That’s what it sounded like, anyway. It sounded like… like they’d been in love forever and had missed it somehow.”
And then, right in front of him, as though he’d walked out of a door