Chapter Eleven
AUSTIN WAS a foster kid. He had a misspent enough youth. Hell, he still liked to go out and tie one on now and then; the only way to tolerate the club scene was with copious amounts of alcohol. The point was, Austin knew hangovers.
So it was really annoying to wake up after a night of only moderate drinking feeling like deep-fried ass.
“Kill me,” he said into the pillow, long before he had the courage to open his eyes.
Beside him, Joe said in the same tone, “Your dick is too pretty to die.”
Austin was wide-awake, the influx of adrenaline momentarily sidelining the sick throbbing in his head.
It didn’t last, though. Like, it was great that they weren’t going to have to pretend last night never happened, but that didn’t stop Austin from wanting to crawl into the bathtub and disintegrate. “I didn’t drink enough to deserve this,” he whined. “What the fuck.”
Joe grunted and shoved the covers down. Thank God; Austin was roasting to death. “Red wine,” he said.
“You knew this was going to happen and you still drank it?”
Joe slapped a hand over Austin’s mouth, which, fair. “Shhhhh.”
Austin would’ve licked it, but his mouth already felt drier than a geriatric nun in the Sahara. He rolled over instead and regretted it when his stomach stayed put. It took him a moment to recover without vomiting. “Do we have Advil?”
For a moment Joe lay there without speaking, and Austin was afraid the answer was no.
Then he said, “In my truck, I think.” Which—right. Austin had some in the trailer too.
That was a good start. Things were looking up. Then Austin’s hungover brain had a moment of divine inspiration. “How much do you think we have to pay your fruits to bring us McDonald’s breakfast and Gatorade?”
Joe made a garbled noise and started flailing for his phone. “Fuck, you’re a genius.”
They managed to get themselves dressed and into the kitchen just in time for the fruits’ arrival.
Gavin, because he was a chaotic neutral troll, laughed when he saw them slumped at the table.
“What did you do to yourselves?” Will asked.
“Red wine,” Joe grunted and made grabby hands at the food. “Let this be a lesson to you, children—never drink.”
Alex rolled their eyes. “You’re so old.”
Austin contemplated this accusation as he sipped his Gatorade. “Nah, I’ve never felt like this before. The lesson here, kids, is don’t drink red wine. When it comes to booze, be trashy, not classy.”
“Austin, don’t corrupt my children.”
Austin glanced at said children. “You’ve got to be almost done high school, right?”
Alex dimpled. “A couple more months.”
“Yeah. That barn door is open,” Austin said without pity and patted Joe’s head condescendingly.
“People who mock my children don’t get to use them as DoorDash or free labor.”
“Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face,” Will said.
“Nice.” Austin held out a tired hand to fist-bump. “Keep this up and you’ll be my favorite.” He winked and the kid went adorably pink.
Once Austin and Joe were approaching human, they put the kids to work walking Pepa, feeding the kittens, and handling the box of Christmas decorations they hadn’t gotten rid of. Then Joe said, “So, should we go get your bed?”
Austin wasn’t an expert on navigating potential repeat-night stands, but he was pretty sure the subtext here said that last night might have been good, but there wouldn’t be a repeat.
Thank God for Joe’s work truck. They loaded Austin’s bedroom furniture into the back and had just started to secure the mattress when Austin had a thought.
“Hey, Joe?”
Joe glanced his way and grunted. Austin was pretty sure Joe was looking at him, but it was hard to tell behind the sunglasses.
“How are we gonna get the mattress up the stairs?”
Joe looked at the mattress. He looked at Austin.
Wordlessly, they took the mattress out of the truck bed and put it back against the wall of Austin’s office.
“Plan B,” Austin said. “As in Bedroom Depot.”
They made it to the store just as it opened—noon on Sundays—and Austin dipped inside long enough to sit on three different foam mattresses that came in boxes. He picked the medium-soft one. He and Joe loaded it into the truck five minutes later.
“I should pay half of it,” Joe said once they’d gotten back on the road home. They were taking Walker Road, which was a big industrial and shopping street in the city and somehow transitioned to farmland and would deposit them more or less at their doorstep. It felt wrong.
So did Joe’s offer. “Hell no. That’s my mattress,” Austin said. “First brand-new one I’ve ever had. Merry Christmas to me. Besides, it was still on sale from Black Friday.” It might’ve been a stretch at any other time, but his credit card company gave him an extra month to pay at Christmas.
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t taken the bedroom on the main floor, you wouldn’t have had to buy one.”
Austin was too hungover for this. “Joe. You literally just saw my mattress. It basically had springs poking out of it. There’s a reason I didn’t mind sleeping in the trailer.”
Joe huffed. “Fine.”
Back at the farmhouse, Joe conned his male offspring into helping unload the truck while Alex strung lights on Joe’s Christmas tree.
“This doesn’t feel too gender essentialist?” Austin asked them as Joe and Gavin wheezed past with Austin’s dresser.
“I’m cool sitting out the hard labor,” Alex said seriously. “Besides. One time Gavin got bored putting up Joe’s tree and just left the lights all bundled up together in the middle.”
“Right, yeah. I think you’ve got the right job, then.”
They heated up leftovers for lunch, and soon they were crowded around the dining table. Joe looked so content to have his children at hand, though Austin did have to wonder….
“No Meg today?”
“She’s gearing up for a big competition,” Gavin said between bites.
Alex pulled a face. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Gavin stuck out his tongue.
“Children,” Joe said mildly, in the tone of a man who wasn’t about to be put off his leftover risotto.
Alex elbowed Gavin. “He’s talking to you.”
Gavin swayed under the touch. “Nah. I’m the favourite.”
Naturally, that started a heated debate, Alex loudly explaining why Gavin was wrong and Will backing them up with well-timed jabs.
Joe caught Austin’s gaze and rolled his eyes, so Austin took his cue from the experienced parent in the room and ignored the bickering in favor of his lunch.
Afterward, Joe abandoned them for paid work. “There’s lots of post-storm cleanup still to do,” he said with a shrug on his way out.
By this point, Alex and Will had caught sight of the boxes and boxes of seasonal décor and couldn’t be stopped.
They approached the boxes with the enthusiasm of children who had been denied the experience in the past. Part of Austin definitely got it.
The greater part thought it was probably best to stay out of the way.
Maybe they could convince Gavin to help too.
Austin set up his bedroom and was gathering the last of his stuff from the front hallway, where the boys had left it after they pulled it out of Joe’s truck, when Starling entered trailing her gear.
“No furry children today?” she asked with an arched eyebrow, noticing the empty space around him.
A fair question, considering Pepa and the kittens had taken to following him and Joe around the house. “They found better entertainment,” Austin explained as laughter rang out from the living room.
“Teenagers?”
“Teens with Christmas decorations.”
“Oh. Shiny, hangy things,” Starling said, nodding.
“And teens who think you’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen,” he agreed.
She followed him upstairs. “I think I’ll be able to finish things up today. Should be ready for inspection once I’m done.”
“No shit?”
She laughed.
“That was faster than I was expecting.”
“Well, call me crazy, but I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of my best friend living in a house with knob-and-tube.”
Austin pulled a face and once again pushed away the ominous thoughts about the outdated system and why it was retrofitted.
He left Starling to her work in the other bedrooms, finished unpacking in his own, and figured it was time for Pepa’s walk.
They’d slowly been increasing the distance they travelled each time, and Austin was so proud of how well she was adjusting.
The kittens were sleepily watching the children decorate—evidently they’d already tired themselves out chasing bits of garland—so Austin felt no guilt about leaving them behind and pulling Pepa out into the cold. Well, maybe he felt some guilt about that, but Pepa was happy for the fresh air.
She tugged him along, following her nose and inspecting grass and trees.
Before Austin knew it, she’d dragged him to the border of Linda’s property.
She sniffed aggressively at a tree near her driveway and then—as was her wont these days—peed on the tree without squatting.
Austin couldn’t fault her for using her disability to her advantage.
“Well, hello there.”
Austin and Pepa turned at the sound of Linda’s voice, though Pepa was the only one to wag her tail. She hopped over, lifting her head for pets and waggling her butt with delight.
“How are you doing?” Linda asked softly and stroked her ears. Pepa answered with happy woofs and snorts. “She looks good,” she added to Austin. “Healing up well?”
“Yeah,” he sighed with relief and pride. “She’s a trooper.”
“So I see,” Linda agreed, still paying Pepa her due attention.
Austin wasn’t quite sure how their small talk turned into an offer to join Linda inside, but a short time later found him in her kitchen, nursing a cup of hot coffee while Pepa lounged in front of her old wood-burning fireplace.
“You don’t mind if I cook while we talk?” Linda asked. She had something in the oven in a cast-iron pot, and she pulled it out and set it on the stove. “I have to get the potatoes in the pot or they’ll be rock-hard when it’s time to eat.”
One of these days Austin was going to have to learn to cook, he thought.
When he and Joe sold this place and went their separate ways, his usual SpaghettiOs were not going to cut it, and he didn’t have the budget for constant takeout.
“No, of course not.” He paused. “Um, do you need help? I don’t really cook, but I can chop things. ”
She shook her head, smiling. “No, I already did all the prep work. I just have to add the potatoes. They take forever in this old oven, though.” She removed the lid with an oven mitt, and the aroma of slow-cooked beef filled the kitchen.
Austin should not have any room in his stomach after breakfast and lunch, but his stomach suggested it could make room. “Oh—do you want me to take a look at it?”
Linda blinked at him. “You fix ovens?”
He smiled. “I fix just about anything.”
“Well, I didn’t invite you over for that, but I’d appreciate it. Maybe after dinner, though. Seems like a bad idea to do it while it’s hot. And you have to let me feed you.”
“Deal,” Austin said immediately.
Linda gave him a smug look; she’d obviously clocked him drooling. Oh well. “I won’t be taking you away from Joe?”
That was kind of a weird question, but—well, they did live together; it made sense she’d think they had meals together too. “No, he’s out working after the storm. Trees down everywhere, I guess.”
“I believe it,” she said. “You boys are finally all moved in, then?”
Austin brightened and reached out with his foot to rub Pepa’s belly.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s kind of wild. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself now that the majority of the work is done.
” He paused and thought about his bank balance.
“Okay, no, that’s a lie. I definitely have to do actual work that I get paid for. ”
“Renovations can be expensive.” She stirred the potatoes into the pot and returned it to the oven. Austin looked over her shoulder; he was pretty sure she needed to replace the seal. That shouldn’t take long.
“Renovations and dog surgery,” Austin agreed. Then he realized that made him sound like an asshole. “Not that—uh—I mean, it was worth it and everything! Just… you know. Unexpected.”
Pepa licked his sock as if in thanks.
“No, no, I get it,” she assured him as she resumed her seat opposite him. “Honestly. It’s one of the hardest things about being a vet, trying to balance the need to keep the lights on and pay everyone fairly and knowing that paying for veterinary care is a real hardship for people.”
Austin took her at her word. But that reminded him—“Actually, I wanted to ask, uh. You said dogs can do well on three legs, and I mean, she’s come a long way already. But they make canine prosthetics, right? Like… that’s a thing?”
She nodded, sipped her coffee, set it back on the table. “They do,” she agreed. “There’s a lot of custom fitting involved, which is why most people don’t do it. It gets expensive—in the thousands.”
Not surprising. “But it can be done,” he prompted.
“Well, sure. With the right—oh.” She smiled. “You’re going to build her one.”
Austin flushed. “Uh, I mean, only if I can get your professional advice on how to do things without hurting her. I don’t want to, like, make it too long and give her back problems or whatever.”
Linda tapped her fingers on the kitchen table for a moment and pursed her lips in thought. Then she looked down at Pepa, stretching out next to the fire. “You know, I think I have a sewing tape around here somewhere.”