Julian
~Present~
Hey, Julian. It’s Curtis. You aroundtonight?
The text alert flashed on my phone while I was sitting in Goode’s Diner, watching my brother Constantine inhale an entire platter of scrambled eggs and insert himself into conversations at all the tables around us, as was the O’Leary way. I dismissed the notification immediately and set the phone face-down on the table before Con could see it and give meshit.
Curtis, I thought to myself, staring at the wall beyond Con’s head.Who the hell was Curtis?There wasn’t a soul in O’Leary with thatname.
He could have been the blond from Albany who’d been in town for a wedding last winter. Or he might have been the sweet, younger guy I’d slept with a couple of times last April, when I’d been lonely enough to ignore the fact that I was being blown by a guy who couldn’t legally buy me a drink. There were a couple before that, too—not a lot, by any stretch, and none at all in months—but enough that I couldn’t say for sure who the hell Curtis was,sadly.
Sadder still, I didn’t care. There had been only one guy occupying all my brain cells for months and months, and Daniel Michaelson wasn’t a guy who’d ever send me a hookuptext.
Sorry,Curtis.
“Earth to Jules! You gonna eat that bacon?” Con leaned across the table and waved his hand in front of my face like he was four, not twenty-four.
I snapped out of my cross-eyed daze and slapped his hand away. “Hey! Don’t be rude,Constantine!”
“Rude? You’re the one ignoring my pitiful requests for sustenance.” He looked down at his own empty breakfast plate and then at the pancakes I’d barely touched. “And you’re ignoring our friend Jamie, who walked all the way out from the kitchen to chat. What would momsay?”
“Oh, don’t bring me into it. I’m just enjoying my coffee before I get back to work.” Jamie looked at Con’s pouting face and laughed. “If you want more bacon, I can go grab you some in the back, youknow.”
“Nah. Bacon stolen from someone else’s plate tastes better. Provenfact.”
“I’d like to know the science behind that proven fact.” I shoved my plate toward him. “Sorry, I’m not great company,” I told Jamie. “I’m half asleep still.” I sipped at my coffee. “Latenight.”
“It’s fine,” Jamie said easily. “You’rerestfulcompany, and sometimes that’sbetter.”
“He means you’re boring, bro.” Con drowned the poor, innocent pancakes in syrup. “Anyway, I thought you said you didn’t have any animals staying at the clinic, Doctor Ross. Did you get an emergency vet call?” He paused, distracted by his own thought, while the syrup continued to pour from the jug. “Hey, why are there no dogambulances?”
“Because they’d be expensive, and people don’t always put their money toward the important things. Con, you’re making maplesoup.”
“I know. I like it this way. What were you up late for, then?” he asked. “Let me guess.Reading?”
“That’s the detective work that makes you such an invaluable member of the police force,” I said, deadpan. “What gave it away? The blearyeyes?”
He nodded. “And the messed up ‘do, like you went to bed with your hair wet. And the way you’re wearing a sweater that’s three sizes too big for you. Makes you look like a midget, and it’s made of more holes thanyarn.”
“It is not!” I looked down at the heavy, gray, cable-knit. “I love this sweater. I wear it all the time when it’s chilly. It wasdad’s!”
“Julian, he died ten yearsago.”
“I’m aware of that. And yet this sweater’s still perfectly comfortable.” I pulled the sleeves of it more firmly around me. “Besides, the gray makes my eyes looknice.”
“Who told youthat?” Con demanded, smirking. “Whoever it was, I hope you put outafter.”
Jamie grimaced. “Dude.Seriously?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Ignore him,” I said. “Poor Constantine was born without a filter. He does the best hecan.”
“What? Just sayin’!” Con shoved more pancakes into his already full mouth and motioned toward his own eyes—Ross blue, like mine—with his syrupy fork. “I’ve got the same eyes Jules has, and nobody I hooked up with ever said that to me, girlorguy.”
“Maybe that says more about the people you hook up with,” Jamiesuggested.
I rolled my eyes. “Or that the back hallway at The Hive needs betterlighting.”
“Hey!” Con’s eyes widened and he choked slightly. He pointed the fork at me accusingly. “Unkind.”
