Chapter Five

Reid

Today had sucked at work. Usually I logged on, did my work, and closed up. Sure, there were emails to deal with, but they were always easy questions. Not today. No, today I got called into a Zoom I thought was about the upcoming quarterlies. Nope. I got on to watch in real time as they cut an entire department. Mine was safe, but having cameras on while they fired twenty-five people was a whole new level of bullshit. That was something HR should've done privately and, from the way at least three people completely broke down, they had not.

In hindsight, the writing had been on the wall. We'd been phasing out bits and pieces of their responsibilities and not replacing people who left. It still caught me off guard. I guess I'd assumed that they would absorb them all into other departments as responsibilities changed. I'd assumed wrong.

I knew going in that insurance was all about the profit. Heck, my job was to insure it. It still sucked.

The internet company wasn't coming to the house until next week, and that had forced me to stay at the hotel, even after I decided to stay at the house. My work needed more than a hotspot. I closed up my computer and stood up. Technically, I was still supposed to be on the clock for another hour, but screw that. I needed time to decompress.

The drive to the house was now basically muscle memory. I hadn't even realized I'd arrived until I pulled into the driveway. Talk about not being safe.

There was a cardboard box on the doorstep, and my heart pounded in my chest. What had Uncle Reid purchased and was never able to see? Was it something he always wanted? Something practical? Was it a gift?

I really hoped it was from a company and not a friend who hadn't heard he'd passed yet.

As I got closer, my stomach dropped. Across the cardboard, written in marker, was his name. This wasn't a delivery company with a late package. This was someone local, someone I was going to have to tell about his death. As if today hadn't already sucked.

I picked it up, shocked by how light it was, and brought it inside, setting it in front of the couch on the coffee table and staring at it. Whether or not I looked inside, they were going to need to know he was gone. I'd already had to tell a few people, but all of them were business related. The first time I had to do it was more weird than difficult. Saying my name followed by "is dead" was not on my bingo card.

"I've got this." I closed my eyes, counted to seventeen. Why seventeen? I wasn't even sure. When I was done, I tore it open and, to my surprise, it was my cap.

"How did you get here?" I hugged it close to me and then put it on my head.

Still sitting in the box was a folded piece of paper.

I found this at the club and tried to get them to send it back to you, but they said you were a visitor. I know how hard it is to lose things that are special to you, and this looks very special. If this is the wrong house, can you let me know so I can help it find the right owner?

~Kevin

I read the words again, traced them with my finger, then read them again. Whoever it was had gone so far out of their way to help me, a stranger. And the favor? It didn't have any strings attached. Sure, he left his number, but that was in case he misdelivered it, which in an odd way he had. This wasn't my house; it was my uncle's. But also, it was mine. How did my life get so complicated?

Kevin. It was such a common name. I worked with three of them in my department alone. But a common name doesn't make a common man. He'd been so thoughtful. He could easily have left the hat in lost and found. It was the first place I looked, or had the employee look, anyway. They said that it wasn't there, and I figured I lost it on the way out and it was long gone.

I was glad he didn't though. This was better. Being forced to go back to the club alone to retrieve it would've been rough on me. I still hadn't unpacked what caused my mini freak-out there. I wasn't ready to head back there on my own. Not yet.

Kevin needed a thank-you. Words didn't feel like enough, but I didn't have his address, just a phone number. I decided to color for him. Everyone loved a nice drawing, right?

Wrong. That was me projecting daddy vibes on him. He might be a pup or a dom or someone who was only there to drop off some liquor for the bar and was mega vanilla. I knew exactly one thing about him: He'd done a nice thing for me.

Fine, I knew two things—he also had nice handwriting.

"I'll figure something out." I pushed myself up to stand. "But first, food."

I went into the kitchen and took a really quick inventory of the fridge before heading to the grocery store, his note in my pocket. I'd figure out how to make it up to him when I got home.

Home. There was that word again. And the longer I stayed in town, the more embedded it became. This was my home, but could I keep it? I might have a shitty job, but it was also a good one. They would let me be remote for a while, but eventually they were going to want me back at the office on my assigned days.

And home was more than a building, no matter how comfy and warm that building was. I didn't have any friends here, my first time at the club was an utter failure, and as nice as the neighbors were, they were all at least twice my age. I was letting my sentimentality get in the way.

Probably.

Maybe.

I didn't even know.

Distraction by junk-food buying it was.

I walked the aisles, putting anything that caught my eye in the basket. There were cupcakes and fish crackers and candies featuring my favorite cartoon. I was halfway through the store and in the baby aisle before I realized what I was doing—I was stocking up on little food. It made sense. My day had been shit. But I needed some big food too and made a conscious decision to grab some as I went.

"Mine likes this one best." A woman's voice distracted me from my internal list making. She was pointing to a sippy cup with a rubber top that was really close to a bottle. "How old are yours?"

"What?" I turned to face her and saw two small children in her cart. "Oh sorry, about nine months." I wasn't sure why I picked that age out of all of them, but she assured me that the one she picked was what I needed, and I grabbed it from the hook. It was always a good day for a new bottle.

"Thanks. Do you know which of the melties is best?" I'd been curious about yogurt melts but had never been brave enough to grab them from the shelf. I was normally an internet-only little buyer for everything except crossover foods like gummies and mac and cheese in a box.

"It depends on the day. I vote get the assorted."

I thanked her and followed her advice. It wasn't until she asked me if maybe we should get the kids together for a playdate that I realized she was trying to make a friend.

"I'm dropping these off for someone. I don't have one of my own," I admitted, and she went on her way.

Peopling was confusing.

A half hour and a few hundred dollars later, I was back home and putting dinner on.

I thought back to the woman with the small children and how she talked to me and was brave enough to see if maybe we might be a friendship fit. Maybe that's what I needed to do with Kevin. What was the worst that could happen? I end up like here, finishing out my day, no worse for wear?

There was only one way to find out.