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Trent gripped my shoulder. “This makes a lot of sense now, son. Thank you. I know you protected her then, too.”

“I did.”

With that bit of knowledge revealed, Sabrina hugged me.

Wow.

“You will always be welcome here. Both of you.” She straightened and headed toward the kitchen. “Now we should eat. You’re both skin and bones, and I need to feed you.”

Funny how that had multiple meanings. We needed emotional nourishment as desperately as we needed the food.

Sabrina stood, and I hugged her against my side. “Want some aspirin?”

“It’s probably a good idea.”

I kissed her temple. “I’ll take care of it.”

As we ate, I held her hand, and for the first time in my life, I almost felt normal. But hell, I preferred to be a little cuckoo.

Chapter 9 Katrina

Three days after the dinner with Trent and Sabrina, I stood inside my kitchen, washing dishes. I often skipped the dishwasher because using it for only one person seemed silly. I didn’t dirty a lot of pots and pans except on the weekends when I did meal prep. Eating out had gotten too pricey, and I preferred nutritious meals that were easy to pack up and bring to work. I only skipped bringing my lunch on Fridays.

Everyone needed a cheat day.

For me? It was usually fried chicken or pizza.

But since this was only Tuesday, I had a portion of homemade chicken noodle soup in the microwave heating up. It was hot as Satan’s ass crack outside, and I didn’t want anything heavy to eat.

I heard the ding on the microwave and finished up, drying my hands off as I left the dishes to dry on the rack. As I did so, I happened to glance out the window and noticed my neighbors staring at my front yard.

How odd.

Was the gas tech back to reread my meter?

I peeked out the front window and found the issue. Cuckoo stood outside, smoking a cigarette as he sat on his bike. Wearing dark sunglasses, his leather vest, and a costume, he was quite the sight.

His outfit of choice? A hodgepodge of outlandish pieces.

In bright white bold white letters on his black shirt was EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SNAKE. A big white arrow pointed down with a red snake curled inside it along with the words: Caution. He spits.

I rolled my eyes. He really did have a wicked sense of humor.

Instead of jeans, he wore snakeskin red leather pants. I didn’t know how he survived that material in this heat. But hey, at least he went with the same theme this time. Well, sort of.

On his head, he wore a black top hat with large peacock feathers poking the air in shades of turquoise, gold, and iridescent blue. The eyes seemed to watch over the whole neighborhood. It had to be intentional.

As I opened my front door and stepped out, I saw my neighbors straining to see what I’d do. Cuckoo tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped the cinders with his black shitkicker boots. Across the street, another neighbor walked out, watching us as he sipped from a mug.

Sigh.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, placing my hands on my hips. “You’re going to freak out the neighbors.”

He shrugged, not fazed by their curiosity. “So?”

“You can’t stake out my house like this.”

“I’m not staking out your house.”