“More!”
Evan stood, the laughter pealing out of him. “You need to eat dinner first, buddy.”
He tousled Shaun’s hair as he walked by and opened the fridge to begin the process of making supper.
Selena chuckled a few more times and then took her cup of tea to the sink. Her hip brushed his thigh as she walked by, and a ripple of pleasure rolled up from the point of contact. He cleared his throat and pulled the hamburger and cheese from within the fridge.
“Stay for dinner?” he asked, as she poured the tea out and set the cup down.
“You know, I better not. I heard there might be rain tonight, and I’ve been out on the lake in storms before. It’s not pleasant.”
He was about to say, You can stay here tonight, but cut it off with a self-conscious effort. His mind immediately pelted him with versions of how the night would go. How he would make up the couch for himself and give Selena his bed. How she would come to him in the night, silent and ethereal, covered with only a blanket, and ask him to join her.
He swallowed, realizing she’d said something he hadn’t caught.
“Sorry, what?”
She smiled a little. “I said, maybe tomorrow or the next day, though. I shouldn’t be busy.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll walk you out.”
Selena said goodbye to Shaun before they moved to the door, Evan maddeningly aware of how close her skin was to his. Should he try to kiss her? Would that be too forward? She’d already bridged that particular gap, so he didn’t think she would shrink away, but did he really want to? His emotions seemed caught on a bungee cord. One minute he would be tight, bound by thoughts of Elle in cords of guilt, and in another he would be free-falling, recalling the gentle breeze that had seemed to caress his face that day on the porch when he’d asked for a sign. Elle would want him to be happy; she’d even said so.
That was enough to kill the urge to try anything physical with Selena. Instead, he opened the door for her and waited as she stopped by his side.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.”
She leaned in, and for a second he readied himself either to commit toward her or to pull back. Caught in his indecision, he stayed still as she placed her lips on his cheek and kissed him lightly before stepping back.
“Get home safe,” he said, a huskiness in his voice.
She smiled over her shoulder and walked toward her beached canoe. Evan shut the door and touched the place where she’d kissed him. It burned a little, and he could still feel the softness of her lips there.
Moving back into the kitchen, he clapped his hands together, startling Shaun, who grinned at him.
“Let’s make some lascagna, Shauny!” he said, intentionally mispronouncing the word as his mother had done when he was a child.
Shaun laughed, and Evan began to cook.
~
He recited the last page of Goodnight Moon and glanced at Shaun, whose eyes were closed and mouth was open a crack. He breathed deep, in slow measures that never failed to make Evan feel at ease. Sleeping. He couldn’t get hurt while he was sleeping, couldn’t fall or tip from his chair, couldn’t choke on food.
Or hair.
Evan grimaced. “Night, honey, I love you.”
He kissed Shaun’s scar, feeling the puckered flesh there, soft but ridged where his head had been split open like an egg. He left the bedroom, not closing the door all the way, and walked to the kitchen, already knowing where he was headed.
The basement was cool, and for once Evan welcomed it. The air outside the house had taken on a thick and heavy feeling as a single thundercloud approached from the west. Maybe the rain would wash the air clean. Maybe it would wash away the blood outside. The thought slowed him as he was about to sit at the worktable. He could see the poor animal limping, its awkward movements disturbing and strange.
Something clicked in the silence of the basement, startling him. Evan turned toward the sound, toward the clock. He stepped forward and set his hand against the side of the closest encasement. Maybe the humidity in the air caused its joints to shift.
Maybe it knows you’re close.
He shivered and stepped back, focusing on the work he’d done the night before.
The schematics and diagrams had seemed impossibly complex, but the more he looked, the easier they were to read. After several hours of toiling the night before, he judged that the clock was almost completely back together.
Evan started working again. Untangling the weight cables had been the most challenging aspect of the repair so far. Someone had yanked and pulled on the cables until they’d become a snarled mess. The timing mechanism itself didn’t look damaged, but the one thing that stood out was an extra rocking switch mounted under the chime hammer. The switch wasn’t listed on any of the diagrams, and when he’d tried to flip it back and forth, it wouldn’t move a bit. All he could gather was that it would need to be flipped after the clock was fully reassembled and wound, which would be soon.
Wound.
The word made him freeze in place as he hung the last of the three brass weights on its cable. He would need to wind the clock, and for that he’d need— “A key,” he said.