“What if you want to get laid, smartass?”
“Then I’ll hire a babysitter and go out.”
Well… duh. It made sense he’d have to go elsewhere since Theo would be here and that would not be conducive to a casual adult good time. “Good point.”
“So is there anything else? You have a rule about which side of the driveway you want me to park on or which days we can drink orange juice out of the carton?”
“You can park in the garage. There’ll be so much room once I move all Dad’s precious babies into the yard.” If he had to live here, at least he’d have the pleasure of watching the luxury car collection slowly rust. He was going to put his father’s favorite antique under the mulberry tree to get crapped on for eternity. “And everyone knows that’s allowed any day the carton is almost empty as long as you finish it off.”
Ollie laughed. “I think I can agree to those terms.”
“Okay, then.” Ty stuck out his hand. “You got yourself a roommate.”
Ollie shook. He was a good three inches shorter than Ty, but his hands were just as big. “You got two.”
OLLIE HADthe impression Ty would’ve been fine with them moving in that night, but he didn’t have the energy after stuffing himself with delicious baked pasta, even if Theo fell asleep at the kitchen table during dessert. Ollie bundled his kid into the car and took him back to the motel. Then he had a two-minute shower and collapsed into bed.
After the day he’d had, he expected to wake up sweating from a nightmare of being shelled in a Humvee. Instead he dreamed about driving the armored truck through the halls of Ty’s mansion, Theo in the passenger seat next to him as they called out Ty’s name. Ollie didn’t put a lot of stock in dreams—he knew they were really the brain’s way of organizing information. This one wasn’t so hard to interpret—their new home was going to be an amazing setting for hide-and-seek. Also maybe Ollie should make a map.
He dropped Theo off at school with his lunch of leftovers, courtesy of Ty, and then delivered himself to work for day two of training.
He changed into his uniform, signed out his weapon from the armory, and met up with his partner, Lucy, in the vehicle bay.
“Morning, Ollie. You’re looking chipper.”
“Solved my housing crisis.” For the first time in a while, he felt like he had a handle on his life. Theo was healthy and back in school. Ollie had a job, and they had a nice place to live. And apparently he hadn’t totally forgotten how to make friends. “It’s better than therapy.”
Lucy laughed. “Oh, he’s got jokes this morning. Okay. I’m glad you’re in a good mood, because you have a very important job today.”
Ollie raised his eyebrows.
Lucy said, “You’re going first in Fuck, Marry, Kill.”
“Oh God, I wish I’d had more time to prepare,” Ollie deadpanned. They didn’t listen to music in the truck because it could distract them from being aware of their surroundings, but not talking at all would lead to daydreaming, which wasn’t any better. “Where’s my clipboard? I need to start making notes.”
“Hilarious.” She followed him into the kitchen while he put away his lunch, and whistled when she saw the packed container. “Damn. You manage that in a motel kitchen?”
Ollie closed the door. “Nope. The new place came with a personal chef.”
As they went over the list of the day’s pickups and deliveries, he told Lucy about his moving plans. “Theo’s really excited. There’s a whole room of games. We had to drag him out of there last night so he’d eat dinner.”
“Sounds like you got lucky.” Lucy smiled at him. They’d been friends in high school, as much as new-kid Ollie had managed to have friends. “You deserve it, though. I still can’t believe you have a kid.”
“Lots of people our age have kids.” Granted, not usually an eight-year-old and not usually one they’d had out of wedlock with a friend almost a decade older than them.
“Lots of people our age still live in their parents’ basements,” she countered as she stacked the paperwork for the day and passed it over to him. Ollie looked through it to make sure it was all in order, switched the second and third sets, and handed it back. “Meanwhile you landed a sweet gig as a companion animal.”
Ollie wasn’t sure if that was more of an insult to him or Ty. “Hey.”
“Relax, G-man. It’s just sour grapes.” She tossed him the keys. “Come on, our chariot awaits.”
Lucy had stuck a cotton-candy-scented air freshener to the dashboard in the truck, which might have bothered Ollie except that he could still smell the coppery weirdness of money under that, and it always smelled like blood. The air freshener at least gave him flashbacks to high school instead; it smelled like one of the body sprays that had been popular with teenage girls back then—bright and pink and sugary.
Ollie slid behind the wheel and turned the ignition. “Okay, first set. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Paul at the diner on Main, Tanya at the front desk, or your grandmother.”
Lucy let out a scandalized gasp. “Ollie Kent! You twisted motherfucker.” She paused for dramatic effect and then asked, “Maternal or paternal?”
“Your choice.”
