Page 7 of Three for a Girl

When the leg finally shattered, Chad backed off at the relief on Romeo’s face. He dropped the hammer to the floor and swept his hands through his hair, gasping at the roof. His relief quickly turned to anguish and he gripped the back of his neck, releasing a sound of frustration.

Chad backed out of the outhouse, knocked on the open door, and walked in again.

“Hey.”

Romeo stiffened, and dropped his arms by his sides. He turned to face Chad with a smile. His eyelid drooped a little on one side, a pink scar marred his cheek, but it was a warm smile that brightened his handsome face. The storm cloud dispersed, if only for a little while.

“You’re home.”

Chad gestured to himself. “Looks that way.”

“How you feeling?”

Worried, uneasy, helpless … there were a few emotions flying around in Chad’s head, but he didn’t say any of them. Romeo didn’t like mentioning his outbursts, and Chad played along.

Romeo frowned. “The session was okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Chad said. “I’m a little tired that’s all.”

“I’ve made roast chicken for dinner.”

Chad hummed. “I could smell it from the front door.”

“All the works. Roast potatoes, carrots, mash potato… Parsnips.”

Chad wrinkled his nose. “Parsnips.”

Romeo laughed. “I know, I know. You’ve got time for a shower first if you want.”

“I’m okay—

“I can smell you from here.”

Chad saw through the casual teasing, Romeo wanted him gone, and a sharp pain stabbed in his chest. He swallowed, pointing at the poorly concealed table.

“What happened there?”

“It didn’t fit together how it should’ve.”

“It was fine the other day.”

“There was a little wobble, it bothered me.”

“Looks like you’ve sorted it.”

Chad smiled, trying to make light of the situation, but it was as fake as Romeo’s strained laugh.

“Yeah, well. We’ve got more tables.” Romeo said as he gestured to the room.

He was right, there were plenty of tables. Coffee tables, dining tables, side tables. The outhouse was a forty meter by forty meter square. It had once echoed, been vast, but two months of Romeo’s new obsession, and it was nearly full.

Chad’s face dropped at Romeo’s bloody hands. He didn’t seem to notice the shards of wood sticking out of them, or the trails of red.

“Romeo. You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” He looked at the blood dripping from his fingers to his wrist. “So I am.”

Romeo picked out one of the splinters, another, and another. He didn’t flinch, he looked oddly detached, in a daze.

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