That lion slept for two days hence and we should have robbed him blind. Instead we robbed him sighted and that's good enough for me.

You would have done it too, but for the payout. I know Lochlan is fond of stockpiling money, as he is technically retired but also not in the least and never stops hustling, and this is probably his most-least favourite side-income generator. 

I am a piece of meat dangled in front of a hungry lion. A means to an end. A thorn in each of their sides, cleaved in half in order to inflict as much damage as possible. A poultice, a panacea designed to cure quickly and without leaving scars, though at this point our delicate skin is thickened with them and the fire (and the brimstone too) no longer affect us in the same way it once did. There is no shock left. No surprise. No remorse. No promises and no vows to never do it again.

And there is magic, in such an easy event. An audience of one. A spectator who nods along as the rules are carefully relayed at the outset, agreeing to follow each and every single one, as the punishment is the end of the evening. One who holds out right until the bitter final moment, breaking every rule at once and by then we are too spent, too overstimulated and too gratified to level any sort of castigation for his efforts. Instead we take the money and run into the dark headlong and foolishly, where we finally stop just off the road and by the light of the moon and a single flame Lochlan checks me first, making sure I'm all there still, making sure I'm real, and then he counts the money, making sure it's all there, making sure it's real.

We have not, in all these years, learned the difference between the price of something and the cost of something. I fear we never will.

Wastrels, minstrels and the objects of their affection.

I am tired. Maybe here's part one?

***

God. My favourite thing in the world is when the Devil gets drunk and gets tender. It's better than Christmas and Burning Man and a good line of cocaine all rolled into one hot stumbling machine of a man and it's so rare these days. Not sure what to make of it. Especially on a rainy Monday evening in June. 

Lochlan and I are playing in the pool. The rain is pouring down on the roof. It's loud but we have music on and are swimming away from and then back toward each other. He takes me into his arms and treads water easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, weightless in the deep end.  I always end up clinging to him in the pool if he is there. The deep end is extra-deep, the bottom of the pool is dark blue and it feels bottomless and scary without him to hold on to. He uses one hand to tread and keeps one arm around me tightly and is moved to pull me in hard against him for a long chlorine-soaked kiss. 

One hand slides off the arm of the chaise nearest us. The Devil is paying attention, his eyes flashing caustics from the surface of the pool. He straightens up, puts his glass down on the table next to him and leans forward, elbows on knees, fist in palm. 

Do you both even realize how beautiful you are together? 

I nod and kiss the tip of Lochlan's nose. We are fire.

You are! Between the striking colouring and the tension, I can't even take..my eyes from you. 

So watch, then. Lochlan still hasn't looked at Caleb.

I'd like to, with your permission. 

There's the cost of admission-

Name a price and I'll cover it.

Can't buy this kind of love, Diabhal. Lochlan says with a laugh. Thought you learned that lesson.

I'm only asking for a night of..inclusion.

You can't afford it.

I can offer a generous sum. Don't be a fool, Locket.

Oh, I'm not. Maybe a joker but never a fool. Not anymore. He pulls me up, hands locked around my shoulders and drowns me in a kiss that sends us both under the surface. 

When we come back up for air, Caleb is gone but there's a post-it on his chair. Lochlan pushes me up the ladder and I grab our towels while he bends to get the post-it. He reads it and shakes his head to get the water out of his hair. It springs up into crazy long curls and his mouth curls up on one side. 

Well, at least he knows the value of a private show. He shows me the paper. 

My eyebrows go up. VIP. Lochlan nods without a word. We should probably go get ready.

I didn't know it woud all turn out this way and I wouldn't change it for the world.

I'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest
The trees keep the tempo and they sway in time
Quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus
If I were to pluck on your heartstrings would you strum on mine?

I've been longing for
Daisies to push through the floor
I've never really felt like this before
And I wish plant life would grow all around me
So I won't feel dead anymore

 

Sunday is Father's Day and Midsummer all in one and we are planning a beautiful acknowledgement of both for this coming weekend. I still am light on energy and short on sleep but we're just going to make a feast to eat by the bonfire on the beach on the longest day and I'm going to make everyone flower crowns. We will chase the night as far back as we can push it and relish the light until it's disappeared over the horizon.

We will celebrate all of them, some biological, all honorary. All pitching in, having gone above and far beyond what most friends would have and I remain forever blessed, touched and grateful. Henry is twenty years old in one month from now and he is the man he is because of them. Ruth is a beautiful woman at almost twenty-two, independent and raised with a fine balance of utter freedom and perfect safety. Again, because of them.

And they will renew their vows to each other, to the army and to me, once cutting palms and sealing their brotherhood in a field with a stolen, questionably-rusted blade, now doing it on the beach at high tide with a sharp, clean and new knife. They will solemnly remember the conviction, the passion that only teenagers can muster and they will remember why they're here. We will add a few more, as the eight has shifted and changed due to life, death and circumstance, we have grown and reevaluated on this night, for this purpose. The beginning of summer always heralded a reminder of why they stick together. Why they're here. Why they chose me and closed the circle and just worked doggedly to make it all perfect and yet it's so flawed it's amazing the sun even bothers to grace us anymore when the dark would do just fine.

I long for a day like this again.

I was having a grand time. Being absolutely miserable, as is my right on a day when it's dark and pouring rain. I learned the simple chords for A.A. Williams' Control a while back but I was working on timing. She's in my headphones just faintly while I sing out loud at the piano. I can't do the guitar part obviously. Will have to hire Pallbearer to do that for me or maybe ask Ben about it. I just pound the keys louder. 

Hear me out. (It's actually tattooed across the palm of my hand. It's faded because I wash so many dishes but it's there.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch so hard I choke on the words and it all grinds to a halt and it makes me vaguely disappointed because I think I finally had it. The fingers grip without squeezing and I take off the headphones to see who needs me, even though I know who it is by touch.

His green eyes are glassy and his face is almost as sad as my heart. 

Stop. Peanut, please. You're killing me here. 

Do you have any requests, then? 

Not today. He kisses the top of my head. Maybe just quiet. 

Sometimes he can't stand listening to me try to hear myself. I don't know what to do about it but everyone says if I subject myself heavily to things that scare me eventually I won't be afraid of them any more so it should probably work for Lochlan too.

(Maybe the electricity was always obvious.)

Walking through the garden centre, staring at the back of Lochlan's neck. He is golden-pink but only down to the neckline of his t-shirt, as he always has his hair tied back now. It's longer than ever and he doesn't plan to cut it, he says the curls are less aggressive the longer it gets from the weight of that length and he's not wrong but there isn't a person alive who has met Lochlan who isn't in love with his giant golden-red pop-can curls save for Lochlan himself. 

He bought me a small pot of roses for the kitchen and a big stone fountain bubbler for outside near the apple tree. He carried the fountain and I carried the flowers. Within hours the hummingbirds were bathing in the fountain and the roses were blooming on the kitchen counter.

Staring at the back of his neck makes me feel ten years old again, watching for him in the crowd, focusing on following him without getting distracted, making sure to stay close, his ever-present t-shirt and jeans a flag, his hair a beacon, his scowl a casual master. He turns and gives a half-smile in relief that I am keeping up. He loads our purchases into the back of the truck and ties everything safely down so it can't roll around or fall and off we go for the drive home. This was a whim but it also finishes the food garden corner of the back lawn and so it's worth it, even though it involved a very expensive very long outdoor extension cord to pull it off and we'll have to spend time burying that so it runs by magic instead of obvious electricity. 

Like us, he points out and the smile goes full.

Unusual Fridays but so very nice.

Long story short, I had a surprise early period and bled all over Daniel and Schuyler's beautiful sheets. They laughed and confirmed that they have a mattress protector, and not to worry, and besides, I am the queen of getting blood out of clothes, thanks to decades of fistfights and bloody noses amongst the boys (personally: Lochlan)(hockey-related: Everyone else AND Lochlan). They weren't worried one bit but judging by my tearful dismay and general miserableness, Daniel declared it to be a feel-better day and so they threw away the sheets (I will fetch them later, don't worry. They are far too expensive and nice to toss when as we said, I can get the blood out) and Schuyler went off to make a big breakfast while Daniel ran me an extra-large, extra-hot, extra-long bubble bath and poured me a glass of champagne. 

Afterwards he helped rinse my hair and then gave me a full blow-out with his big professional hair dryer, remarked at the ridiculously long bangs that catch in my eyelashes but said he wasn't touching them and neither should Loch, agreed I have a cute bob now and to keep it going, and then he did a face mask with me (aloe/olive oil or something, it smelled really good) and we whitened our teeth and then he said after breakfast we can pick out nail polish colours and then he dressed me in a clean pair of pajamas (a button up shirt and boxers because pants aren't going to fit) and back to bed with more champagne just in time for breakfast to be served on their huge wooden wedding tray. 

I am becoming a breakfast-in-bed whore, that's for sure. 

Then back to watching Juliet, Naked because we all read the book years ago and liked it and I didn't know there was a movie. Then snoozing. Then nail polish. Then lunch but probably not. Then maybe more champagne and a chocolate bar because besides the hot bath and self-care they assume that chocolate fixes everything right now.

They might not be wrong but I'm pretty sure it's just the attention making me feel better. They said to wait until Lochlan shows up. They're going to talk him into having the same routine because he needs a break and a treat. That a hot bath and some pampering are necessary, not luxuries. That we all need it sometimes when the day feels wrong.

Breaks and treats for everyone. I love my fairy boys so much.

Inmate number fucking one.

 Just found out Asher also has both his vaccinations, because he's a caregiver. 

Oh, was that a stint before you got here? I ask him in surprise. 

No, it's now. My official rol- He stops and looks guilty so briefly but I see it.

What? No, you're a PA. Or an EA. Whatever you like to go by-

I stop when I see him shoot a glance toward the table. 

Oh. Why didn't someone tell me? 

You wouldn't like it but you also won't have me do it and it's necessary. Lochlan always tells me straight even though he didn't exactly tell me this.

But is it? Things are going well-

For now. 

Right, and then-

Bridget. 

What? 

Just leave it, pretend it's the EA thing. 

Well, I CAN'T now. 

Sure you can. 

I should have figured it out last week when he insisted on driving-

Bridgie. 

Don't keep me in the dark. 

It's payback, because that's where you keep me, and you can't do that anymore. Lochlan's face is grim but his eyes are nothing but kind. He's trying so hard and I don't give him an inch.  

But what about when I send him to do something? Or take time off? 

He can only agree if you are in custody of one of us. 

Ah. Right. Wow. So ironclad. Such jail. Many bars.

Not at all. Just a bigger safety net for you. That's all. It's not a punishment. 

I didn't say it was. But call a spade a spade, Locket. 

That's what I tell you.

Feeling better. Might be the caffeine. Might be the Devil. Might even be the rain. No body yet either.

I have more energy this morning. Caleb did not let go, gaining custody of me late last evening when I fell asleep in the middle of listening to him list all the things he wants to do next week when the province announces a downgrade to epidemic (?) and things begin to slowly open back up. He is fully vaccinated now and does not seem to feel as if mere mortals can affect him, as he is anxious to fulfill all the adventures he's been promising me for the past two years while we've been locked down. 

Keep in mind I had my first shot nine days ago, am not having a good time with it and there's no hope of a second vaccine for me until at least mid-August. LOL *cries*

I think this is fine, being bound to the point with everyone home, frankly. And Caleb was on his best behaviour last night and today, not waking me until this morning, when he pulled me and the quilt up against him and crushed a kiss against my mouth even as he failed to ask if I even wanted him, probably knowing the answer (HA. Always) and then later when he let go he left me wrapped up tight in the sheets, pulling me up again to rest in his arms and he one-handed a big tray onto the bed which to my delight featured ristrettos, a bowl of banana chunks, one of grapes and two plates of toast with cheese. 

And then he walked me home, down the dim quiet hallways to my door, knocking softly, planting a kiss on my forehead before turning to head back to his wing for some reading.

Home for soulful (sorrowful) ghostie friends.

A beautiful, breezy day but I am not allowed to kayak or even walk on the beach today because yesterday at the park they found an empty kayak and the boys are concerned that I might find a body in my travels, which is a little too Stand By Me for them, I guess even though I think it would be exciting to solve a mystery and help provide closure to a family who is in distress. 

But when I point this out Lochlan says Absolutely not, Peanut. 

He agrees with the sentiment but not the person, and they instead are scouring the coast regularly because the current goes this way from the park and it's conceivable that someone who is no longer alive will show up for dinner, with the tides, though the ghosts that are already here will probably scare a new one off, demanding that the new ghost interloper find their own point to haunt, that this one is full up. I wanted to ask Jake if that were true, if that is something one does after, be territorial and selfish like that but Lochlan knows damn well if he lets me out of his sight I am headed straight to the beach to look for bones. That's what I said when he said no, as he can't keep me from my beach forever and it could be days, weeks or years before someone washes ashore and if it's just bones by then they might even be easier to find.

He nods and says by then it will be fine but until he decides exactly when is, they will be doing a sweep first. Gristly and then some but apparently not as bad as finding a saltwater-bloated corpse on a sunny spring day. 

Which is probably true but I think we should get it over with. It's HELPING. 

It's HAUNTING, they remind me. You will see it every time you close your eyes. 

I am ALREADY HAUNTED. What's one more, if Jake lets them stay?

My favorite things.

 Daniel and I have matching confetti glitter nails and a love for the Netflix show Sweet Tooth. We have a stash of sour patch candy (because duh, we love sugar anyway) and we've spent the last day and a half tucked away watching wholesome shows and napping in the rain. Now it's a sunny Monday and our plan is to continue because I still don't feel good from the stupid vaccine which I wanted very badly but I have a new set of rashes now (apparently it's called Covid Arm and I have to get my second vaccine in the opposite arm), still so tired I can hardly think, mildly feverish and a little bit sickish when my blood sugar drops too low so we raced through the chores we needed to do at our respective homes and then went back to bed. It's perfect. People come and go. We just stay on. He is keeping watch, I am the child with antlers.