Page 28 of When Sky Breaks
“Oh, yeah?” I help myself to a plate of food, my mouth watering.
“Appears I’m not as adept in guessing everyone’s favorite food as I thought. Except for yours.”
Wrong.
But as Trek pointed out, I don’t have the heart to tell him that steamed broccoli ranks way behind this mac ’n’ cheese I’ve loaded on my plate.
Trek meets my gaze over the table, but I just glare at him until he rolls his eyes and focuses back on his food.
“It was a nice thought, young man, but before I go through chemo and the mere mention of food makes me queasy, I’m going to eat more than…sushi. No offense.”
Johnny laughs and waves a chopstick at Foster. “None taken, sir. Must be losing my touch.”
After dinner and a brief goodbye to Johnny where I let him kiss me for longer than two seconds, I plop down on the couch next to Foster and sigh.
“Your boyfriend seems nice. A little too old for my taste, but nice enough.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I grumble, picking at the stray string on the seam of the couch cushion and petting Shadow next to me. He lifts his sleepy cat head while I scratch under his chin. He’s getting old, his whiskers tinged with gray.
Foster raises a brow. “Does he know that?”
“It hasn’t come up, officially.”
“Well, a man like that probably isn’t playing games, so be sure to communicate, all right?”
I swallow and dip my chin. I can’t be stringing Johnny along if I’m not going to take it seriously.
Trek stands from the recliner and stretches. “After that riveting dinner, I’m wiped out. Going to bed.”
“Hold up,” Foster says, pointing back to the chair.
Trek sighs and plops down.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you two about this and just been preoccupied. But I need your help with something.”
“Anything,” I say, and Trek nods his assent.
“I need volunteers for the haunted house construction. I added you two to the list.”
“They’re still doing it this year?” I shift and grab a pillow to hug.
Foster crosses his feet at his ankles. “Yeah. Blake took over the planning, and he’s wanting to go all out. Dubbed it The Villain’s Playground.”
Every year, Maizeville hosts a fall festival—Festival of the Falling Leaves—and residents take over the town square with booths to sell their items and crafts. Food trucks make the town smell like fried Oreos and tacos for days after. The firehouse erects a haunted house in the field behind the building, and, with the help of volunteers for construction and materials, it’s usually the biggest attraction.
“What? Volunteer?” Trek raises his wide eyes to me.
“Don’t look at me! Look at him.” I point to Foster, who chuckles lightly.
“Dad, I work. It’s the end of the company’s fiscal year. I’ll be swamped.”
“And? I can’t exactly do all this on my own because of obvious reasons.”
I don’t really have any excuses for why I can’t volunteer. I got approved yesterday for a leave of absence using FMLA with the hospital. I’m still getting a percentage of my paycheck, plus what I had saved to cover my expenses. Other than what I’m going to do with the fact my ex-boyfriend is in town along with my current, uh, man friend, I’m free to help.
“It won’t be an issue. Trek and I got you covered.” I ignore Trek’s annoyed glare at the side of my face and busy myself with mental notes of what we need to do first. Anything to lighten Foster’s load while he goes through chemo. Besides, Trek still owes me. This can be part of his forgiveness plan.
“I knew I could count on you guys. I’ll text you Blake’s number. He’ll probably want to give you the information about what needs to be done and when.”