Page 40 of Prayers for the Prickly

I chased him a few steps, until some of the somberness bled from his face and he looked more like my brother again.

“It was easy to smile at August,” I told him as we resumed regular walking speed again. “My soul and my wolverine knew he was mine before the rest of me smartened up and took notice.”

“When you talk about him, you look as happy as I used to feel,” Olly said wistfully.

“That should tell you something right there,” I replied. “Take the spare key and take the day off. You know where the spare bedroom is. I’ll text August and let him know you’ll be staying there for the foreseeable future. Don’t feel like you have to rush to find a place. Take your time to find the right one, or better still, take the time to work things out with your mate so that when you do move out it will be to move in with him.”

His shoulders straightened and he cast a look over his shoulder and smiled a real Olly smile at me.

“Thanks, bro,” he replied. “Have I told you that you are the best big brother of the batch?”

“Have I reminded you lately just how much I hate it when you call me bro?” I asked in response, acknowledging the sentiment he’d intended without us having to make a big deal of it.

He giggled and I chased him a little more just to make my point, then checked my phone, because I hadn’t received so much as a text from August regarding the incident and he hadn’t spoken to me about it through our new mental link, though it had been dimmer in the morning after we’d established it, when there was no longer so much adrenaline coursing through us after my accident.

“Hey, Olly, when did all of this happen, with the threat and the chocolate and all of that?” I asked, a bit curious about why August wouldn’t have mentioned it to me.

Now that I thought about it, he hadn’t really been talkative last night, either. He’d said goodnight, and warned me not to forget to be careful, but that had been the extent of the conversation. I’d chalked it up to the strain of trying to maintain a conversation over such a long distance when we were so new to communicating that way, and hadn’t bothered trying my cell phone, since there had only been sporadic bars where we were.

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yup.”

“Morning? Afternoon?” I asked, fishing for specifics.

“Hmm, umm, Margo came in right after we opened, so it must have happened right before that, the Danish was still warm and gooey.”

“We will come back to how you get all the treats when I’m the one in the back risking digits doing all the carving,” I reminded him.

Of course, he just scoffed and waved a hand at me. “I already told you. Besides, the ladies at the bakery love you. I bet you could get whatever treat you wanted if you just knocked on the back door and grinned at one of them.”

“Did you not just point out how awkward any attempt at a smile looks when I try it?” I reminded him.

“No, I said that the first time you tried it with August it was awkward,” he said. “None of your smiles are awkward now. They’re all just genuine and you know, happy. You don’t go around snarling at everyone all the time the way you used to. It’s actually fun coming to work with you.”

Now that gave me a moment’s pause and I caught up to him and turned him so he was facing me again. “You mean it wasn’t before? I thought you enjoyed working there. Olly, if it’s not your thing…”

“Let me stop you right there,” he said as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue streaked with wispy white clouds that lazily drifted along warm air currents. No sign of the storms that had battered our coast remained in the sky this morning. As fate would have it, we’d also come in ahead of the rest of the fleet, which had allowed us to be the first to offload. We’d showered as we’d steamed in to port, having come in three-quarters of a day early, with a full hold and a great payout for every hand onboard.

My share was going to go toward expanding the showroom at the shop. Along with the ideas for figurine and centerpiece collections, my mind had been filled with ideas for chessboards and uniquely themed pieces over the last two days of the trip.

And yes, there was going to be a seagull versus a sandwich board, specifically designed as a wedding gift for my new client’s soon-to-be son-in-law, who was as avid of a chess player as my client. He’d been so enthusiastic in his design ideas for the board that he’d gotten me excited and together, we’d dove into researching types of sandwiches and designing which chess pieces they’d represent.

I’d gotten a good chunk of the sketches started on that one and couldn’t wait to dive back in when I got back home. My morning drawing sessions were much like the time I spent on the beach. Peaceful and easy. I was a mellow wolverine when people left me alone to pursue my silences and passions in peace. August got that, which made him the perfect mate for me. I saw it every time I sat in the corner of his kitchen sketching. That was rapidly becoming my second favorite place to draw.

Thinking about him left me a bit worried about why he hadn’t reached out about what had happened yesterday. Was it because he hadn’t wanted me to get pissed off when I was too far away to do anything about it? I’d have been fuming, too, and pacing the deck, and fussing about the boat not going fast enough, which just would have irritated everyone and pissed my uncle off.

Yeah, now that I thought about it, maybe it was better that August hadn’t said anything. I could see him waiting to tell me when we were face to face, or better still, when he was on my lap with my nose pressed to his neck, where I could listen and breathe in his scent, so I didn’t fly into a frenzy. If that proved to be why he hadn’t said anything then I was going to have to figure out a very special way of thanking my little hedgehog for looking out for me.

“Hey, Gregor!”

“Hmmm?”

“You haven’t heard anything I’ve said for the last two minutes, have you?” Olly asked.

My brow furrowed as I filtered through the sounds in my head. Gulls, waves, the echo of August’s giggles, the sound his heels made, thumping against the mattress when I tickled him. His soft sighs when he was just on the cusp of sleep were the greatest, though.

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