Gretchen opened her mouth, but Vin got there first with an answer. “I fell down and hurt myself.”
“That why you gots the sling, too?”
“Yeah.”
“You don't look so hot.”
“I don't feel so hot.”
There was a long pause. And then Robbie took a step forward. “Can I look at your Band-Aid?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Though it clearly cost him a lot of agony, Vin moved the strap of the sling off his shoulder and slowly unbuttoned his borrowed shirt. Peeling the cloth back, he exposed the padding and gauze and tape.
“Wooooooooow,” Robbie said, walking all the way over and reaching out.
“Don't touch him, please,” Gretchen said quickly. “He's hurting.”
Robbie retracted his hand. “I'm sorry. You know…my mom's good at healing my cuts.”
“Yeah?” Vin said roughly.
“Uh-huh.” Robbie glanced over his shoulder. “See? She already gots the ginger ale.” Dropping his voice down to a whisper, he added, “She always gives me ginger ale and saltines. I don't really like 'em all that much, but I usually feel better after I eat 'em.”
Gretchen went over to the couch and put the crackers on the table next to Vin. “Here. This'll steady your stomach.”
Vin took the glass and looked at Robbie. “You okay with me hanging on your couch for a little while? Truth is, I'm really tired and I need a place to rest.”
“Yeah. You can stay here till you're all better.” Her son put his hand out and introduced himself. “I'm Robbie.”
Vin extended his good arm. “Nice to meet you, my man.”
After they shook, Robbie smiled. “I have an idea, too.”
As he headed out of the room, she said, “You want to get changed out of your pj's, please?”
“Yes, Mom.”
It took every ounce of control for Gretchen not to do the whole snatch and hug thing as he passed by—but he was behaving as the man of the house, and seven-year-olds deserved to have their pride. “You think that went okay?” Vin asked softly.
“I really do.” She blinked fast and sat down next to him. “And please drink some of that.”
Vin clasped her hand in a fast squeeze and then took a sip. “I don't think I'm up for the saltines.”
“We can wait on those.”
“Thank you…for letting me meet him.”
“Thank you for being so good with him.”
“I'll stay on the couch, okay?”
“Yup and we can do our lessons in the kitchen. I home-school him, and today's Monday.”
“I love you,” Vin said, turning his head to face her. “I love you so goddamn much it hurts.”
She smiled and leaned in, kissing him. “That might just be your shoulder talking.”
“No, it's closer to the center of my chest. I think…it's called the heart? Not sure, as I haven't had one before.”
“I believe that would be the heart, yes.”
There was a pause. “You still going to move into my farmhouse?”
“If it's still okay with you, yes.”
“You mind having someone else in one of the guest rooms while you're there? You know, a fellow tenant? It's a big place, and there's this maid's room over the kitchen that he could use while you and Robbie have the whole run of the second floor. And I can vouch for the guy. He's neat and clean, quiet, respectful. Known him a long time. He's trying to get his life back together and is going to need a place to stay.”
She stroked his face, and thought they hadn't known each other for all that long if you counted the hours…but considering what they'd been through, it was as if everything needed to be measured in something like dog years. Or more.
“I think that would be great.”
They kissed again quickly and he said, “If it doesn't work, I'll leave right away.”
“Somehow I think it's going to be fine.”
Vin smiled and sipped a little more. “I haven't had ginger ale in years.”
“How's your stomach—”
Robbie came back down, still in his pj's. “Here, this'll help!”
As he held out his favorite Spider-Man comic book, Gretchen took the soda so that Vin could accept the gift.
“This looks really cool,” Vin murmured as he put the comic on his lap and opened the first page.
“It'll take your mind off things.” Robbie nodded as if speaking from decades of experience. “Sometimes when you hurt, you need distraction.”
“I gotta go get ready for school. You stay here. Drink that. Mom and I will check on you.” Robbie marched out of the room like he'd arranged everything. And just like that, Vin was in like Flynn.
Chapter 43
Again with the fresh grass.
Although at least this time, Jim knew where the fuck he was.
As he opened his eyes and got a whole lot of bright green and fluffy, he turned his face to the side and took a clear, deep breath. His whole body hurt, not just where he'd taken the bullet, and he waited for things to quiet down a little before he attempted any flashy moves like…oh, lifting his head or some shit.
Guess this facedown business meant he was really dead—
A pair of perfectly polished white bucks overtook his visual field, and above the natty shoes, a set of linen slacks pressed with a knife edge hung with the perfect break at the ankles.
The bottom cuffs were jacked up sharply, and then Nigel knelt on his haunches. “How lovely to see you again. And no, you'll be going back down again. You have more missions ahead of you.”
Jim groaned. “Am I going to have to die first before I come here every time? Because no offense, but for fuck's sake, I can just give you a cell phone to call.”
“You did very well,” Nigel said. The man…angel…whatever…extended his hand. “Very well indeed.”
Jim gave the springy ground a shove and turned himself over. As he shook what was offered, the sky was so bright he blinked fast and let go quickly so he could rub his eyes.
Man…what a trip it all had been. But at least those two people were okay.
“You left out one crucial piece of information,” he said to the angel. “The crossroads was mine, wasn't it. When that bullet went flying, the key choice in all this was mine, not Vin's.”
“Yes, it was. When you chose to save her over yourself, that was the critical turning point.”
Jim let his arms flop down at his sides. “It was a test.”
“You passed, incidentally.”
“Go, me.”
Colin and the other two dandies came over, and all three of them were dressed as Nigel was, in pressed white slacks with cashmere sweaters that were peach and yellow and sky blue, respectively. Nigel's top half was done in coral.
“You guys ever wear camo?” Jim grunted as he propped himself up on his palms. “Or does that offend your sensibilities.”
Colin knelt down and actually put his knees right on the grass—which suggested Heaven had Clorox bleach in its laundry room. “I'm rather proud of you, mate.”
“As are we.” Bertie stroked his wolfhound's head. “You succeeded marvelously.”
“Marvelously indeed.” As Byron nodded, his rose-colored glasses winked in the diffused light. “But then I
