Favor by Kiki Clark

Author:Kiki Clark [Clark, Kiki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

9

Declan knocked on his parents’ front door but didn’t bother waiting before pushing it open and stepping inside. He called a hello as he toed off his boots, jumping when his dad suddenly spoke right behind him.

“Hey, son.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, putting a hand over his racing heart.

“No, just your father.” It was the same lame joke his dad had been saying since Declan was a kid, but Declan couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered saying it a few weeks ago when he’d accidentally startled one of his foster kids. Well, he hadn’t called himself the boy’s father, but it had been a Dad Joke, nonetheless, and made the scared kid crack a smile for the first time all day.

“Let me go get cleaned up before I hug you,” he said, gesturing at himself and lifting the small duffel in his other hand. “I came right from a jobsite.”

“No worries. Your mom is getting things set up on the back deck for dinner, and I’m going to fire up the grill. Who knows how many more nice days we’ll have.” His dad nodded emphatically, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was nearly as tall as Declan and just as broad in the shoulders, though his midsection had gotten pretty soft over the years, thanks to Declan’s mom’s cooking. Especially after his dad retired a couple of years ago.

He was wearing a University of Michigan sweatshirt that had stains on it, so Declan knew he must have been working on a project that weekend. Declan made a mental note to check and see if his dad needed help. His old man never liked to admit it, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be and could often use an extra pair of hands.

Declan slipped into the guest bathroom between the living room and his mom’s home office and stripped off his grungy clothes. There wasn’t a shower in there, but he’d shower when he got home. He washed his hands and halfway up his arms, before scrubbing at his face and neck and running wet fingers through his hair. Once he felt less like he’d stain the furniture if he sat on anything, he pulled on the clothes he’d brought with him and grabbed his phone out of his discarded pants’ pocket.

There was a text from Jeremy waiting for him from ten minutes before.

He stood there in his parents’ bathroom for way longer than he probably should have, just staring at the notification, tapping the screen every once in a while to light it up when it started to dim. He thought he’d given up hope on hearing from Jeremy, but the nervous clenching of his stomach and dampness on his palms pointed to him being a liar.

Finally, he called himself seven kinds of idiot and swiped to open the text.

Jeremy: Hey, Declan. Do you think you could come by sometime this week? I think the sink in my bathroom is leaking.

Disappointment was a bitter pill to swallow all over again, but he was getting used to the taste after the last two weeks.

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