Page 31 of Roommates' Alpha

“I hope so,” I replied with a smile. “He deserves it.”

Crow nodded. “He does.”

The lights dimmed and an emcee took the stage. “Gooooood evening everyone! How y’all doing?”

A cheer rose from the audience.

“Good to hear,” he laughed. “Well, I hope you’re ready to laugh. We’ve got a great line-up of some of Valle Granja’s best comedians tonight, including a newcomer to the Giggle Bin, Xavier Reynolds.”

A roar from the crowd.

The emcee’s laughter deepened. “Well it’s clear who you’re all here to see, so I won’t keep you any longer. Xavier is on a bit later but for now… Give it up for tonight’s opener, Joey Higgs. Joey is a senior at Mountain View High School and has already been accepted at Valle Granja University, where he’ll study theater. Come on up Joey!”

Polite applause from the crowd as a slender teen took the stage, pretended to trip, and went right into his skit—which was pretty good, considering his age.

I wanted this: sitting around a table with my men, supporting another of us.

Too bad I was probably the only one who felt like that.

Chapter 9

~February~

“There you are,” I said as I spied my slow cooker. I pulled it down and reorganized the shelf to fill in the gap. Then, small appliance in hand, I made my way upstairs to the kitchen.

The house was quiet—the ticking of a clock in the living room the loudest noise.

I’d always taken Tuesdays and Wednesdays off—so that my assistant manager would have the weekend off. Sometimes I’d wondered why I kept it up. Most people in my position would have taken the better days. But—as I wiped the lid and crock of the slow cooker with a damp towel to remove any dust—now I was happy for it.

We might not be able to eat as a group on Wednesdays, but I could make sure the men in my life had a warm home-cooked meal.

Soups and stews were tasty, fed a crowd, and kept warm easily. Xavier would be able to get some before leaving for his shows, and the rest would be able to eat whenever they wanted.

It was perfect, and let me feel like I was contributing to the group meals.

I set up the slow cooker, then pulled my phone from my pocket. I synced it to a speaker on the counter and started a playlist. Then I rummaged through the pots and pans, looking for the one I wanted to sear the meat in.

My plan was to get the meat going, then I’d chop the vegetables so that they’d be ready to go in once it was time.

“Ah-ha!” I said as I pulled out the iron skillet. Then I jumped at a cough behind me.

I turned, and the plan went out the window. Terry stood there, fluffy bathrobe over his pajamas and looking absolutely miserable.

“You,” I ordered. “Couch.”

He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then nodded and shuffled off into the living room.

I blew out a breath, grabbed a mug, filled it with water, and put it in the microwave. Then I grabbed my beef from the fridge, shoved it into the freezer, and pulled out some frozen chicken.

Was it ideal? No. Would chicken soup be the better option for Terry? Absolutely.

The microwave dinged, and I dropped in a bag of lemon ginger tea to start steeping. Then I dumped the frozen chicken into the slow cooker, added spices and water, and turned it on to high.

At least chicken cooked from frozen ok. Not as good as thawed, but desperate times and all that.

Dinner started, I grabbed the mug, discarded the tea bag, and carried the tea to where Terry was sprawled on the couch.

“Here,” I said softly, handing him the mug as he sat up.