straight.”
He watched the items ring up, and total. “It better be damn good chicken,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.
Four
SHE’D BEEN RIGHT ABOUT THE CHICKEN; HE’D never had better. And he thought she’d been right to decree no discussion of her experience, or any demon-related topic during the group meal.
It was fascinating how much other the six of them had to talk about, even though they’d been in one another’s pockets for months. Wedding plans, new business plans, books, movies, celebrity scandals, and small-town gossip bounced around the table like tennis balls. At any other time, in any other place, the gathering would have been exactly as it appeared—a group of friends and lovers enjoying each other and a perfectly prepared meal.
And how did he fit into the mix? His relationship with Cal and Fox had changed and evolved over the years as they’d gone from boys to men, certainly when he’d yanked out his roots in the Hollow to move on. But at its base it was what it had always been—the friendship of a lifetime. They simply were.
He liked the women they’d chosen, for their own sakes, and for the way they’d meshed with his friends into couples. It took unique women to face what they were all facing and stick it out. It told him that if any of them survived, the four of them would buck the odds and make the strange entity of marriage work.
In fact, he believed they’d thrive.
And if they survived, he’d move on again. He was the one who left—and who came back. That’s how he made his life work, in any case. There was always the next game, and another chance to play. That’s where he fit in, he supposed. The wild card that turned up after the cut and shuffle.
That left Cybil, with her encyclopedic brain, her genius in the kitchen, and her nerves of steel. Only once since they’d come together had he seen her break down. Twisse had triggered the deepest personal fear in all of them, Gage remembered, and for Cybil that was blindness. She’d wept in his arms when that was over. But she hadn’t run.
No, she hadn’t run. She’d stick it out, all of them would. Then if they lived through it, she’d move on. There wasn’t a single cell of small-town girl in that interesting body of hers. Adaptable she was, he thought. She’d settled smoothly enough into the Hollow, the little house, but it was . . . like Frannie Hawkins’s holding vase, he realized. This was just a temporary stop before she moved on to something more suited to her style.
But where, and to what would she move? He wondered that, wondered about her more than was wise.
She caught his glance, arched a brow. “Looking for a refund?”
“No.”
“Well then. I’m going for a walk.”
“Oh, but, Cyb—” Quinn began.
“Gage can come with me, while the four of you deal with the dishes.”
“How come he gets out of kitchen duty?” Fox wanted to know.
“He shopped, he paid. I want a little air before we bring the Big Evil Bastard to the table. How about it, big guy? Be my escort?”
“Take your phone.” Quinn caught Cybil’s hand. “Just in case.”
“I’ll take my phone, and I’ll put on a jacket. And I won’t take candy from strangers. Relax, Mommy.”
When she breezed out, Quinn turned to Gage. “Just don’t go far, okay? Keep her close.”
“This is Hawkins Hollow, everything in it’s close.”
She put on a light sweater and slipped black skids onto feet that were so often bare. The minute she stepped outside, she breathed deep. “I like spring nights. Summer’s even better. I like the heat, but under the circumstances, I’m hoarding spring.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Main Street, of course. Where else? I like knowing my ground,” she continued as they walked. “So I walk around town, drive around the area.”
“And could probably draw a detailed map of both by now.”
“Not only could, have. I do have an eye for detail.” She took another breath, this one loaded
He watched the items ring up, and total. “It better be damn good chicken,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.
Four
SHE’D BEEN RIGHT ABOUT THE CHICKEN; HE’D never had better. And he thought she’d been right to decree no discussion of her experience, or any demon-related topic during the group meal.
It was fascinating how much other the six of them had to talk about, even though they’d been in one another’s pockets for months. Wedding plans, new business plans, books, movies, celebrity scandals, and small-town gossip bounced around the table like tennis balls. At any other time, in any other place, the gathering would have been exactly as it appeared—a group of friends and lovers enjoying each other and a perfectly prepared meal.
And how did he fit into the mix? His relationship with Cal and Fox had changed and evolved over the years as they’d gone from boys to men, certainly when he’d yanked out his roots in the Hollow to move on. But at its base it was what it had always been—the friendship of a lifetime. They simply were.
He liked the women they’d chosen, for their own sakes, and for the way they’d meshed with his friends into couples. It took unique women to face what they were all facing and stick it out. It told him that if any of them survived, the four of them would buck the odds and make the strange entity of marriage work.
In fact, he believed they’d thrive.
And if they survived, he’d move on again. He was the one who left—and who came back. That’s how he made his life work, in any case. There was always the next game, and another chance to play. That’s where he fit in, he supposed. The wild card that turned up after the cut and shuffle.
That left Cybil, with her encyclopedic brain, her genius in the kitchen, and her nerves of steel. Only once since they’d come together had he seen her break down. Twisse had triggered the deepest personal fear in all of them, Gage remembered, and for Cybil that was blindness. She’d wept in his arms when that was over. But she hadn’t run.
No, she hadn’t run. She’d stick it out, all of them would. Then if they lived through it, she’d move on. There wasn’t a single cell of small-town girl in that interesting body of hers. Adaptable she was, he thought. She’d settled smoothly enough into the Hollow, the little house, but it was . . . like Frannie Hawkins’s holding vase, he realized. This was just a temporary stop before she moved on to something more suited to her style.
But where, and to what would she move? He wondered that, wondered about her more than was wise.
She caught his glance, arched a brow. “Looking for a refund?”
“No.”
“Well then. I’m going for a walk.”
“Oh, but, Cyb—” Quinn began.
“Gage can come with me, while the four of you deal with the dishes.”
“How come he gets out of kitchen duty?” Fox wanted to know.
“He shopped, he paid. I want a little air before we bring the Big Evil Bastard to the table. How about it, big guy? Be my escort?”
“Take your phone.” Quinn caught Cybil’s hand. “Just in case.”
“I’ll take my phone, and I’ll put on a jacket. And I won’t take candy from strangers. Relax, Mommy.”
When she breezed out, Quinn turned to Gage. “Just don’t go far, okay? Keep her close.”
“This is Hawkins Hollow, everything in it’s close.”
She put on a light sweater and slipped black skids onto feet that were so often bare. The minute she stepped outside, she breathed deep. “I like spring nights. Summer’s even better. I like the heat, but under the circumstances, I’m hoarding spring.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Main Street, of course. Where else? I like knowing my ground,” she continued as they walked. “So I walk around town, drive around the area.”
“And could probably draw a detailed map of both by now.”
“Not only could, have. I do have an eye for detail.” She took another breath, this one loaded
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