Page 48 of No Place Like Home

What happened next, I blamed my sleep-deprived brain.

Some guys peeked in high school and college, while others were like fine wine and got better with age. That was the case with Prescott Dunnett.

Don’t look below the waist. Do not look below the waist.

Simba growled, and I looked.

He was wearing black joggers, for fuck’s sake. With white running shoes and a black Henley. He wasn’t as big and broad as Quincy, but his masculinity affected you in other ways.

“You okay there, kid?” he said, trying not to laugh.

“I’m not a kid,” I repeated for what like seemed the fiftieth time.

Prescott took a step forward, and Simba stood in front of me growling.

“Dude, chill,” I told the dog, and he did. Then I cut Prescott with a glare.

“You’re my little sister's child. Therefore, to me, you are a kid.”

“I’m only like ten years younger than you, grandpa.”

He chuckled.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned him.

“This is why you’re my favorite out of all my nieces and nephews.” Prescott kept walking, and I walked along with him.

“It’s because I can shut the fuck up and not be annoying.”

His laugh was answer enough.

“And did you forget I lived over there?” He pointed to his house next to Quincy.

Right.

“Are you all right?” he said after a minute.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

I could feel his eyes boring into my face.

“You hate dogs, and you’re walking one. You are having an actual conversation without having it cut short and running off, which means you’re rattled, because your defenses aren’t even up.”

He was right, but like hell if I’d admit that to him.

“I must have missed the part where you got a degree in psych.”

Prescott snorted. Out of everyone, he was the easiest to talk to. Everyone else wanted to fix you or help you, and Prescott understood that some things just changed you, and there was no going back.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s trying to drown in alcohol.”

“The hardest thing to do is keep living when a vital part of you is dead. How do you come back from something like that?”

I regretted meeting his eyes because he raised a knowing brow at me.

“Come on, Simba. Time to go back.”

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