Page 64 of The Fallen
He went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He couldn’t remember ever being so hungry, and he rummaged through the cupboards for something to fix for them.
“How are you going to take care of it?” Bryn rested a hand on the gingham tablecloth.
Gil turned to face him, happy—and maybe a little disappointed—to find him wearing jeans and a burnt orange, long-sleeve T-shirt. “I don’t know.”
“I could help,” Bryn offered, smiling and flashing his sharp canines. “As long as we do it before midnight.”
Gil shook his head. “I don’t want to be hasty. I need to think this through. Do it right.”
He went to a small glass case on the wall between the kitchen and the front room. It held some certificates, a black-and-white picture of Aunt Kate and Uncle Doddie on their wedding day, and a little brass plaque that read “George MacNeil – ‘Doddie.’”Gil open the clasp and took out a small, striped ribbon as Bryn came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Gil’s waist.
“Uncle Doddie was awarded this. It’s a sharpshooter ribbon from the Coast Guard. And this one is a sea service ribbon.” Gil pointed to other ribbons and medals. “Distinguished marksman, expert rifleman. And this is a Gold Lifesaving Medal.”
Bryn took the sharpshooter ribbon and turned Gil to face him. “He’s proud of you.”
“Why?” Gil’s voice was barely a whisper; it hurt getting that one word out. But what he had to say next was going to hurt a lot more.
“Bryn… I don’t know how this is going to go with Grady. I could end up dead or back in jail. I’m sure Uncle Doddie would take care of you… you know. But it’s probably better if you go.”
Bryn took a few steps back. “Go?”
“You… you were… you are… everything to me.” Gil cursed his clumsy tongue and slow, stupid brain. This was important, but he couldn’t find the right words to make Bryn understand. There was a reason he preferred to stay quiet. “You’re this incredible magical being. You shouldn’t be stuck here with me. Even if I come through this, I…. There are hundreds of losers like me insmall towns up and down the coast. If that’s what you really want, you won’t have trouble finding someone just as good or better.”
Gil sort of hoped Bryn might argue, but he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. “Yeah, and I’m stuck as a cat six days a week. Hardly the ideal relationship situation for you.”
“Yeah.” Gil took Bryn’s hand and smoothed his thumb over the back. He looked into his luminous green eyes, trying to burn them into his memory. “You’re the best friend I ever had. I….”
A big rock shattered the bay window and showered Gil and Bryn in glass.
“MacNeil!” Grady yelled from outside.
By the time Gil turned for the door, Bryn was Mr. Brimstone again, following on his heels. Gil picked up the shotgun that rested in the corner and stepped out onto the porch as the cat darted past Grady and toward his expensive truck. At least he’d learned to steer clear of Grady’s cruel streak.
Gil gestured toward the broken window. “What the fuck?”
“Our associates said you never showed up with the product,” Grady spat. “Where is it?”
“The bottom of the ocean,” Gil said. “I got caught in that freak storm last night. The boat went down.”
“That’s gonna be a problem.” Grady shook his head. “That product was expected in Toronto by some very powerful people, Gil. And shit rolls downhill. Those powerful people don’t get their shit, they start leaning on my associates, and my associates start leaning on me. But it’s not my fault, is it?”
“It’s not mine! I can’t control the weather.”
Grady took a step forward and only stopped when Gil raised the shotgun to his shoulder. “Here’s the deal, Gil. Our friends are on their way here, and they expect their product or the million dollars it’s worth. I am not taking the blame for this. Now, youtell them it’s all on you and plead your case—maybe they let you work it off—or I tell them about this house and your uncle.”
“Not if I don’t let you leave,” Gil said.
“Please.” Grady stretched his arms out to his sides. “We both know you’re a big, fat pussy. I could piss in your face and you’d say ‘please, sir, can I have another.’”
He was right. Gil couldn’t shoot Grady, not even to save himself. He lowered the gun.
“That’s what I thought. If you can get your hands on any of your uncle’s money, I suggest you do it. If you get enough, you might get to keep all your fingers and both eyes. And don’t think about trying to leave, or I’ll burn this place to the ground with the old man inside.”
After spitting on the ground, Grady climbed back into his truck. “What the—” He found Mr. Brimstone in the cab and tossed him roughly to the ground. The cat yowled and ran up the porch steps to hide behind Gil’s legs.
As soon as the truck disappeared down the road, Bryn stood and faced Gil, his expression enough to freeze Gil’s blood.
“Stay here, Gil.”
