Chapter 22
It stormed badly on Sunday night. Normally Lorenzo liked the rain, but tonight he was annoyed because he’d found a faerie circle that he’d been looking forward to taking Charlie to.
He would have been shocked, because Lorenzo always complained and dragged his feet when Charlie came up with an idea for one of his “educational” excursions.
He’d have been surprised and maybe even delighted by Lorenzo bringing an idea to him.
Lorenzo had been looking forward to that—discombobulating Charlie. Exciting him.
But the damn faerie circle got rained out, so they were stuck inside. It was early, before midnight, but Lorenzo already felt like crawling the walls.
They’d taken over the living room, thinking they were the only ones home, when Maggie came out of her room to get something from the kitchen.
Charlie roped her into sitting on the couch with them, and after a long meandering conversation, Charlie brought them around to talking about Rachel and Isolde. Lorenzo stiffened.
He didn’t know why Charlie’s curiosity about them bothered him, but it did. When Charlie got like this, he reminded Lorenzo of the man he’d met five years ago. Shallow. Judgmental. Manipulative.
Caring. Invested. Sensitive, his brain chirped back at him. And he knew that was true; he knew that Charlie cared about Rachel and Isolde. He knew he was only trying to help.
A touch on his knee startled him. Without interrupting the story he was telling Maggie, Charlie dragged Lorenzo’s bare feet into his lap and started giving him a foot rub.
He’d noticed Lorenzo’s discomfort and responded to it without being asked. And his thumbs felt amazing pressed firmly into Lorenzo’s soles. He melted into the couch a little, closed his eyes, and tried to let the conversation wash over him.
“Did you really vote for someone else, instead of Isolde?” Charlie was asking.
“Well, there was this supercool gremlin dude who built these elaborate sets for D shame and anger and a perverse, aching need for Charlie to keep talking.
“And yeah, at the time I was probably only thinking about Olivia, not about you,” Charlie said.
“And I told her not to be with someone if she wasn’t all in. But you deserved better than that too.”
Lorenzo shuddered. Charlie took a step toward him. “You deserve someone who wants you. All of you,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone . . . who can’t be dissuaded by some bullshit advice.”
Lorenzo husked out a laugh. Charlie took another step closer, cupping Lorenzo’s face in his palm. “You deserve . . .”
Lorenzo waited, hanging on every expression that flickered over Charlie’s face. He could swear his heart was pounding.
No, pounding was what human hearts did. His seemed to be trying to writhe and spasm and pour its way through his dead rib cage straight to Charlie.
Charlie still hadn’t said anything. He was just staring at Lorenzo’s lips, and Lorenzo wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to finish his sentence or kiss him.
“Done fighting?” Maggie asked in a meek voice, peeking from around the edge of the kitchen wall.
Charlie slumped into Lorenzo’s chest. “Done fighting,” he shouted back, his voice muffled. Lorenzo brought his arms up around Charlie and felt the tension drain out of him.
Maggie was clinking as she shuffled awkwardly back into the living room. “Well, while you guys were occupied,” she said obliquely, “I got all my hot sauces together.”
“Your hot sauces?” Charlie asked. His throat sounded thick.
“Oh yeah, I have almost everything from Hot Ones,” she said, laying them all out on the table. “And—” She was interrupted by a beep from the kitchen. “And I thought we could experiment,” she called back. “See which one tastes best.”
“You want to make wings?” Charlie asked, looking at one of the bottles.
“No,” Maggie said, coming back into the living room with an enormous bowl of popcorn. “We’ll try it on this.”
Charlie laughed, and Maggie’s smile lit up her weather-beaten face. Thank goodness for Maggie.
“It’ll be awesome,” she said. “Now, let’s start with this one.”