Page 66 of Force At Third

“I can’t turn it off until it’s dealt with.”

“Just need four hours,” he insists, and I hear him coming this way.

I sneak up a few more stairs and stop when I hear her ask, “Wait—who’s Fred?”

“Gonna have to ask Lara.” He chuckles.

She calls to him, “Are they actual people I need to concern myself with, or are you that sleep-deprived?”

“Goodnight, York.”

* * *

Unable to even pretend I’m going to sleep, I wait until the boys are tucked in before I get up and tiptoe down the stairs.

When I walk into the living room, Gwendolyn’s face is buried in a pillow, shoulders shaking, and she has no idea that I’m in the room as she kicks her little socked feet on the cushions. I take full advantage of that and head to the other end of the sectional, gently sit down, raise my feet up on the chaise, scoot back, lean into the couch, and link my fingers behind my back.

“I can’t send it now,” she whispers while laughing. “It might interrupt the system, but yep, Mystery Inc.”

She sits back, lifting her face from the pillow, wiping tears away, and then she sees me.

“Mind handing me the remote?” I ask.

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“Mom? Is that you?” I joke, and she snarls. “Oh, right, no one’s here for you to ask to tell me to fuck off.”

“Go to bed.” She glares.

I shake my head. “I lay up there any longer, smelling you all over the place, I may fuck a hole in your mattress. Now, what kind of guest would that make me?”

She turns her head and hisses, “No, it’s not funny. He’s an asshole.”

I sit up, lean toward the imaginary friend she’s talking to, and extend my hand. “Name’s Leland Locke. Don’t listen to her; I’m a great guy.” I pretend to shake hands with the figment of Gwendolyn York’s imagination. “Nice firm grip. You have a name?”

“Stop laughing. He’s not even a little funny.”

I extend both hands and pretend to lift Gwendolyn’s new friend up. “She doesn’t mean it, little buddy. She’s got a lot going on.” I scoot back and lean into the couch, placing it on my lap. “Just sit here with me. We’ll watch some more highlights and check out how the Oriels are doing. We play them after we sweep the Brewers.” I lean in and pretend to listen and chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but yeah, we may just get a ring this season.”

“I’m not telling him shit,” she snaps, again looking at absolutely nothing.

“Oh shit, you left a man behind. We can’t do that, little buddy.” I extend my hand out in the direction she’s glaring. “Come on over. There’s room on this end.”

She throws something in my direction, and I duck. It just misses the side of my head.

“Fuck, you both good?”

“I’m not talking to myself!” she whispers, still managing to make it sound like she’s yelling at me. “AirPods, you asshole.”

I fight back a laugh and decide to just go with it.

“Well then,” I huff. “Who the hell are these two on my lap?”

She pops up off the couch, drops a tablet, and stomps but silently in front of me. Then she bends down to grab an AirPod and shoves it in her ear while walking into the kitchen.

“Sugar bear, you wanna grab me a beer while you’re in there?”

“Fuck you,” she growls.

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