Page 60 of Puck Daddies
“You’ve got twelve feet on either side. No gaps, no wobble.”
By ten, vendors roll up canopies. The candle table goes on the north end. Honey vendors take the sunny side. The shelter sets a table by the ramp with a jar and a list of needs. I tape aRaise the HiveQR near the front and test it.
Tom runs volunteers like a foreman. Anthony hangs the block party banner straight. Bex checks the pastry display twice andshakes out her hands like a boxer. Meg unlocks the door at eleven, and the line appears. She moves like water behind the bar, sleeves pushed up, hair clipped back, honey lattes landing in a steady rhythm. She keeps her smile even when her shoulders are tight.
I see it from the stage and I see it on the ground. She makes the room feel safe on a day she doesn’t feel safe. That’s what she does, just like Aunt Bea did.
Aqua warms up with banter and a clean run through her set list. Kids dance in front of the stage. The tile wall inside draws a steady stream. I fix a squeak on the ramp hinge and replace one stripped screw because I can’t stop fixing things when I see them.
Habitat staff run the raffle. I take the mic once to thank the neighbors and point to the donation stations. The numbers on the whiteboard climb in dry-erase strokes—tiles, drinks, candles, Habitat pledges. It’s good for business. It’s good for the street.
It still isn’t freedom from court dates and a clock, though.
I catch Meg between rushes. I pass her a water bottle. “Drink.”
She drinks, nods, and passes it back. “Thank you.”
“You okay?”
She glances at the line. “I’m working. I’m scared. Both can be true.”
“We’ve got you.”
“I know.” The next order is called, and she’s gone again.
Aqua’s set lands hard. She does ten minutes of patter, a big musical number with splits and twirls around a post in the shop, followed by a quiet closer. People throw bills in the jar and buy another round. The shelter fills a second box with donated blankets. TheBaltimore Dailyphotographer gets the shot of the stage, the crowd, and the honey wall.
By dusk, we break down. Volunteers stack chairs and coil cable. I load the stage rails in the truck and log every piece back into the kit. Meg is still at the counter. She hands the bar to Bex and steps outside to breathe. Her face says the numbers are good, and the fear is still there.
We can’t fundraise our way out of a bad decision from a judge. But we can try. We can also carry her when the trying gets heavy.
Back at the apartment, after showers and quiet, Hudson sets a bowl of cut fruit and a pitcher of water on the coffee table and looks at me. Rocco looks at Meg. I wait, because it needs to be her choice to step toward us.
She sits on the edge of the couch, takes a breath. “I miss you. I miss all of you. Facing the world without you sucks. I know I said no touching until things stabilize, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to choose you when things get hard.”
My throat goes dry. I’m not sure what that means at the moment. “We’ll follow your lead.”
Hudson’s voice is low. “No pressure.”
Rocco adds, “No alcohol. Clearheaded.”
Meg smiles, small and sure. “Follow me.”
She leads the way to her bedroom, and my heart won’t slow down. Her voice is low, seductive. “Come here.”
Couldn’t stop myself if I tried. I kiss her first, and her lips taste like honey and mint. When she moans softly into my mouth, I swear it takes me somewhere else.
Hudson kisses the line below her ear, his hand steadily moving up her body until he cups her breast over her shirt. Those moans of hers go deeper.
Rocco laces their fingers. “We missed you, amor.”
He’s right, but that’s not all. We missedus. The four of us like this. I haven’t checked in with them, but I know it. I feel it. We work best as a unit, on or off the ice.
Shirts first. She peels mine off and laughs when I forget the hem catches. I help with her buttons, one by one, checking her face with every button like I did the first night. She’s so beautiful that it makes my breath stick in my chest.
It’s not fair in the best way possible.
Hudson kneels to take off her shoes and set them aside. Rocco pulls the blanket down and smooths the sheet. No one talks. No one jokes. This is different than how things got started.
