Page 26 of The House on Haven Way

I want him to say something.

But... I also don’t. Because what we have is odd, but nice. He cooks for me after PT, too. We sit side by side on the couch and watch the laptop when dinner is done, and my arm brushes his, and his thigh touches mine.

Those inches of skin buzz with pleasure, and it’s like a high mixed with the simplest, easiest comfort.

I’m taking advantage of Johnny Miller, and I know it. I can leave whenever I want, and he can’t. He’s going to get dependent on me for my friendship.

I’m going to get addicted to him for his pain relief.

“You have any onion?”

“What?” Johnny startles me.

“Onion. Tomorrow afternoon, you have PT. I’ll make us a meatloaf. My mother’s recipe.” He kisses his fingertips. “The best in Brooklyn. How about it?”

“I’d love it. Uh. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to find many leads, Johnny. I know you said not to call your nephews, and I haven’t, but I’ve looked for people who might have been around when Harry and Nancy were in town. I got referred to a place called Hilltop Home, a senior living place, but I haven’t heard back from the director.”

Johnny looks at me. “To be honest... I haven’t been as worried about that as I once was. You’re good company, sweetheart.”

I usually hate pet names like that, but when he says it?

Damn butterflies in my belly.

“Uh. I better get gas in my car before PT. I have onions on the counter next to the potatoes. And the grocery store is out that way. Thanks to my personal masseur, I’m able to walk longer. I can go pick up anything else you need for dinner. Which, by the way, I feel guilty that you’re cooking food you’re not eating.”

“Yeah, but then you eat the leftovers for lunch. It’s good. It’s all good.”

He beams at me.

I smile back. My hand does something stupid and reaches for his, and we both moan when our palms connect.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, eyes closed, body instantly warm in that wet, low, tingly way.

“You know, you should leave the laptop here. Put it on some massage videos on that website. The one with videos where you can learn stuff? Maybe I could help you feel even better,” he hints.

At least, I think it’s a hint. “Great idea.”

So, before I leave to get gas, I send him to check the kitchen and see if there’s something else he needs at the store, and I type “sensual full-body massage” into the search bar— and find myself looking at R-rated clips of oiled-up men massaging women in barely-there bikinis.

And I’m very okay with Johnny watching it, too. If it gives him ideas—I’ll be sharing them.

“I think you could use more milk,” he calls out.

“Good! The video is up. I’m gonna go get gas and head to PT,” I call, and blow him a kiss—for no reason other than it’s a reflex.

A reflex I’ve never shared or had before.

Johnny winks, catches it, and pats his cheek. “Good aim, kid.”

Oooh. So many butterflies.

I almost have a car accident at the gas station. A single car, operator-error kind of accident.

There are two men at Manny’s Automotive, a combo used-car lot, car rental spot, car repair shop, and three-pump gas station (two gas, one diesel). Yes, Pine Ridge is small.

And weird. Which is why I almost run into the green pickup truck that’s fueling at the pump in front of mine. I’m staring at the two men. The two men, who both look like Frankenstein’s monster. One is green and stitched up. One is gray and stitched up.

“You okay, miss?” The greenish one asks, rushing to my car as I stomp on the brakes so hard that I smoke my tires.