Page 18 of Red Flag, Green Light

“What are you interested in, little goddess?” His fingers thread before his lips as he adjusts his position. “What can I do to make your wildest dreams come true?”

It is lunacy. It is truly, truly madness, but it is what comes out of my mouth, without logical reasoning or any real forethought. Because, dang it all, curiosity killed the Ceres. “Pick up my grocery orders for me for as long as I live in Bandera, so that after this year’s Flag Day passes, I will never have to leave my property again.”

With like lunacy and absence of thought, Mars says, “Done,”and the waiter returns to take our orders.

Chapter Five

Sharks are cool.

Mars

My first date with Ceres went swimmingly.

As swimmingly as a shark.

I’ve got her right where I want her, flipped upside down, in tonic immobility.

“Isn’t that right, Gingy?” I whisper to my darling little hamster, whom I rescued from a pet store shelf a few months ago. Someone popped her right in one of the display cages and abandoned her to exist among the cold plastic for who knows how long. She came home with me in my pocket that day, and hamsters became my favorite animal.

Second only to sharks.

I’ve told her before not to feel bad about being my second favorite as it is hard to beat an animal that does not require bones.

Thankfully, she does not appear put out as she nibbles at the butt of a store-bought carrot. Soon, my garden will be back in season, and I’ll start giving her the good green tops, but until then, we both must suffer.

Jove’s bedroom door opens and closes as I’m putting Gingerbread back in her shark-themed enclosure, so I turn. “Hey, babe. Carrot cake will be out soon and ready tonight.”

Does it matter that I made one yesterday, beforeThe Talk? No. Not one bit.

That carrot cake is gone now, so a new one must rise.

Even though I normally only make a carrot cake onceevery other day, I might be stress eating, just a bit, which results in stress baking. After talking to Ceres for the first time yesterday and being bold enough to invite her to dinner, it’s to be expected. Dealing with one’s crush takes a lot of stamina.

In response to news of fresh carrot cake coming soon, my dear sweet Jovey hums…distractedly.

So my eyes narrow, and I abandon Gingerbread’s large glass vivarium in our living room.

Maybe it was harsh of me to spring a meeting on him yesterday, a Friday, when meeting day isalwaysTuesday and he has clearly been avoiding them for good reason.

Ormaybethe letter he got from Lyra before our talk yesterday did not contain news of her perfect joy. Whenever anything bad happens to Lyra, Jovey gets in amood. The poor love-sick sap—who is completely oblivious to the fact he is in love—struggles to regulate his emotions in many cases, but primarily in the cases concerning hisLy-Ly.

It’s too soon to beat a dead horse by bringing up yesterday’s topics again. He needs to process our conversation, learn necromancy, and resurrect the horse before I can do anything more. That said, my beloved big bro is wandering toward the front door. “Where ya headed?” I ask.

“Hardware store. For an ax. The head came off my last one.” He pauses feet from the exit to our humble home, which is humble on account of Jove being quite allergic to money. The poor guy started hyperventilating when I suggested getting a Mazda Miata sports car. Even though it’s not even that expensive, it just sounds too “rich.” And you know what costs roughly the same but does not sound rich? A Honda Civic.

The things I do for my dear brother.

Pulling his fingers through the bleached white strands of his hair, Jovey looks at me. “Need anything?”

From the hardware store? My turn to hum. “No. I’m heading to the grocery store after I get the cake cooling, though. Do you need anything from there?”

He shakes his head.

Low maintenance, us.

Sighing, I smile. “Have a safe trip, and don’t get caught.”

He nods, and that’s that. The door closes behind him, and I’m left to let my smile slip steadily off. I wish there was something I could do to fix Jove’s rotten sense of self-worth, something I could say that gets through to him and helps him understand that we’re like carrot cake and milk. One without the other doesn’t work, and if I’m the carrot cake and he’s the milk, I can’t justbecomehim. His job with Rouge is no more or less important than mine, but it would be extremely painful for me if we switched.

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