Page 40 of Cold Comeback
I paused, dish towel in hand. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're not performing. You're not trying to be what you think people want you to be." She gestured toward the living room, where raucous laughter suggested the movie selection process was going as well as expected. "You're just... here. Present. Like you actually belong here."
I shifted my weight. "I'm trying."
"No, you're not trying. You're being. There's a difference."
She watched me for a moment longer, then pulled me into her don't-argue hug. "I like seeing you like this. Happy. Settled."
"It's still early."
"Maybe. But you look and act like yourself again for the first time in years."
Before I could ask her to explain more, Pluto's voice carried from the living room: "Drake! We need your vote! Linc wants to watch some artsy horror thing, and Bricks is lobbying for something with subtitles!"
"Subtitles?" I called back. "What is this, a film festival?"
"Foreign films have better cinematography!" Bricks protested.
"They also have fewer explosions!" Knox countered.
Gina laughed. "Go referee. I should head back to my hotel anyway."
"You could stay—"
"Nah. This is your space. Your people." She kissed my cheek. "But Thatch? Call me more often. Not just when things go to shit. Call me when you score a goal, or when Pluto says something so dumb you can't stop laughing. Call me when things are good."
"Everything okay?" Gideon appeared beside me.
"Yeah. She just... she said I looked like myself again."
"And that's bad?"
"No, it's..." I searched for the right words. "I guess I didn't realize I'd stopped being myself until I started being myself again."
"Makes sense."
"Does it?"
"Yeah. Sometimes you have to lose something to understand what it was worth."
The weight of his words settled between us, and I wondered whether we were still talking about my sister's visit or something else entirely.
"Drake!" Knox bellowed from the living room. "Stop making googly eyes and help us settle this cinematic crisis!"
"Googly eyes?" I headed back into the circus.
The debate started immediately—Kubrick versus "something where people actually die."
Gideon tipped his chin toward the stairs. "Two minutes—show me the radiator before we start."
The heating situation in my room was worse than I'd expected. The radiator wheezed and rattled but produced nothing resembling actual heat. The room was like a walk-in freezer, and my breath came out in small puffs as I showed Gideon the problem.
"It's been getting progressively worse." I crouched next to the ancient radiator. "Last night I could see my breath. Tonight, I'm pretty sure I will wake up with icicles in my hair."
"When's the last time anyone looked at this thing?" Gideon knelt beside me.
"Judging by the dust buildup? The Carter administration."
