Page 6 of Drift

Female, just a month or so old, but looking full at the belly as if ready to take a step into motherhood herself, the tiny green Aphid scurried over his thumb. She was one of the most common, green minute garden pests, one that multiplied at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Not today, Josephine.” Tucker let her crawl into some toilet paper, then made life easy for himself by cutting her suffering and sent her on her way down the toilet before slipping on his boxers and shorts. “Sorry, love.”

“Every Breath You Take” still played on his Echo Dot, and Tucker tossed the towel he’d used, satisfied that it landed in the basket, then he headed off through to the bathroom and asked Alexa to pack in playing it. The kitchen was his next stop, and he shivered a little as a draft from the open lounge window caught his shoulders.

“Alexa, play Tucker’s playlist.” He’d made it over to the sink.

“Here’s your playlist: Tucker’s playlist.”

Tucker almost, almost said thank you, always caught in his manners, and he shook it away as he grabbed the potatoes from the vegetable rack. “Mash, vegetables, and parsley, it is.” Then a little louder—“You need another tea, love?”

“Please,” a call came through. “Three sugars this time?”

“You need a sugar rush to get through all that?”

“All that? You’ve been up there an hour, Tuck. I’m nearly done.”

Tucker snorted, then looked at the time on the microwave. Fuck. He had.

After pulling out a saucepan for the spuds, he switched the kettle on and tugged two new mugs off the tea rack. A knife to peel with came next. After adding some sugar and teabags to the mugs, he stood at the sink and started on the spuds as “Every Breath You Take” drifted on in from the lounge.

It won a frown as a breeze from behind stirred his hair over his eyes, forcing him to wipe it away with a swipe of arm. That wasn’t on his playlist.

A light scurry of tiny legs ran across the back of his hand, and Tucker flinched, glancing down. “Huh?”

Josephine had a twin, it seemed, and the bug settled on the back of his hand, turning this way, that, as if in search of her not-so-long-lost friend.

A crawling feeling rushed his scalp, and another bug fell onto his hand. Another.

“Shit. Seriously?” He dropped the knife on the edge of the sink, and going wet dog with his hair, he shook his locks as he ran his hands through his air once… twice, three times… four.

“Honey. You okay?” A touch brushed his arm, and he jolted. Amanda offered him a smile, a flicker of concern as she wiped hair from his eyes. “You look a little startled, love. You seen a spider you need me to take care of?”

Yeah, the only gardener around who couldn’t stand spiders….

“No, I… I…” He looked down at his hand, but nothing ran over his skin. He snorted a smile, then ran a hand through his hair just to double-check again, but… “Yeah.” His hand came away clean. “I’m good.” He kissed at her cheek. “Just getting your tea.”

“Good choice of yours with the shorts and… skimpy.” A hold slipped around his waist, and Amanda came in close behind. “Almost… naked and adulterous.”

He smiled at her, it registering vaguely that he hadn’t chosen anything, but her hand traced his stomach, going lower… much lower, and she craned a look his way.

“So, you wanna skip dinner for a moment?” She waggled her brows.

From the delicate curve of it—a tiny green Aphid dropped onto her cheek and scurried around to her nostril, belly full of eggs.

“Huh.” He jolted—then hit it off her face to get it away from her.

“Ah.” Amanda took a step back, holding her nose. Shock played her eyes, hurt too, which was bloody stupid—he’d batted the bastard off, not meant to hurt her. “Why…?” she started to say, but—not why—where…. Where had the bastard gone?

He started looking around her feet, shifting her a little when he didn’t see it.

“Tuck, why…” She let out a soft sob. “Why would you do that?”

“Bug.” He looked at her. “An A—”

Right nostril this time.

Two of them.

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