Page 32 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

T revor hurls his latest bowling ball down the lane with all of his strength, but he’s already throwing up his hands in defeat long before it hits the halfway mark?—and promptly derails into the gutter. “That’s it. I’m finished. Ruined. Kyle, you’ll have to take my place.”

Chester fights back a grin, patting Trevor’s arm. “There, there. I’m sure you’re just having a bad night.”

“A bad night?” Trevor sputters. “We’ve been having a bad month, man! The entire team! The entire alley!”

“A month, huh?” Chester repeats, smirking at Obie. “That’s about as long as we’ve been dating, right? I think your perpetual singleness might’ve been holding the alley together.”

“Oh, so you’re the cause of our bowling woes?” Sasha asks, wrapping both of her arms around one of Chester’s. “Well, we’ll just have to steal you away from Obie, then. Get our good luck back. Do you prefer gents or ladies, generally speaking? Because there are a variety of other options to??—?? ”

Abruptly, Obie grabs Chester’s arm, pulling him out of Sasha’s grip. “Hands off the merchandise, Sasha. He’s mine.”

Chester determinedly ignores the swoopy sensation in his belly at Obie calling him “mine.” “But it’s for the good of the team, baby,” he needles, raising his eyebrows innocently. “If we have to break up to get the alley’s winning streak back, then I think that’s only fair.”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening,” Obie says, pulling Chester tighter against his side?—so tight, in fact, that it’s almost uncomfortable. “You’re stuck with me, puppy. Redwater Bowl will just have to suffer the consequences.”

His shoulders are noticeably tenser than usual. As Sasha jogs towards the approach for her frame, Chester pushes into their telepathic link with a frown. Is this bothering you?

For a long moment, Obie is quiet.

Chester pokes the connection again. Hello? Earth to Nostringvadha?

Obie’s eyes flash towards him. His voice in Chester’s head sounds irritated.

Well, I was trying to say “no,” but apparently, that was a lie.

So I guess this conversation is bothering me a little.

I know it’s a joke, but?—but how would we even deal with a fake breakup? I’d have to make you invisible again.

By the end, his voice has shifted from annoyed to frustrated. A little bit of the levity in Chester’s chest fades away, replaced by a now-familiar ache.

Right. Obie is just being practical, as usual. Chester really has to stop expecting?—stop hoping for?—anything else. “Don’t worry,” he says, patting Obie’s cheek in a way that he hopes is both comforting and patronizing. “You’re not getting out of this relationship that easily.”

Obie’s lips twitch as Sasha drags her feet back towards them, morose. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, strolling over to the ball return and picking up his next bowling ball .

Chester shifts to one side to get a better view, trying to watch how Obie does it. Bowling looks simple enough?—just use the ball to knock down the pins?—but the team has bemoaned oil patterns and sticky approaches and swollen fingers enough that Chester knows it’s more complicated than it appears.

Plus, judging by the fact that Obie only manages to knock over one sad pin in the course of two throws, Chester figures it has to be at least a little more difficult than it seems.

Trevor groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Oh, man, this is rough. Where’s Maggie to save us when we need her?”

Sasha checks her cell phone, frowning. “She texted the group chat earlier to say that she’ll be working late, but she hasn’t reached out since then. I guess we’ll just be bereft of our second-favorite demon tonight.”

Obie grins. “Oh? And who’s your first -favorite demon?”

Chester jumps in before Sasha can respond. “Cassius Chin. Have you seen the biceps on him? Wowza.”

Obie looks scandalized. Sasha and Trevor cackle in unison, sounding for all the world like they’re both the evil twin of their siblinghood. “Nice one, Kyle,” Trevor says, giving him a high five.

“You’re going to be the death of me, puppy,” Obie complains, but he’s clearly stifling a smile. “And I’m totally telling Cass you said that.”

“Go for it. I’m sure JJ will agree with me.”

“Aw, it’s so nice that you’ve met Obie’s other friends,” Sasha says, giving Obie a pointed look. “His other friends who he never brings here to meet us.”

“I’ve tried, okay?” Obie argues. “I’ve been trying for years. I’ve gotten them into the alley once or twice, but they refuse to show up on league nights. Maggie is the only one I’ve ever convinced.”

“And, of course, we have our man Kyle,” Trevor says, clapping Chester’s shoulder. “Just you wait. We’ll have you conned onto our team in no time.”

Chester rolls his eyes. “Yeah, not likely. I’ve never even picked up a bowling ball.”

All three bowlers turn to stare at him, aghast.

“What?” Chester says defensively. “I was?—I was homeschooled. Bowling was never part of the curriculum.”

“Okay, no,” Sasha says, grabbing his arm to drag him towards the approach despite his protests. “You’re bowling. You’re a bowler now. Congratulations! We’re all losing tonight, anyway, so it won’t matter if you’re awful.”

Chester snorts. “Gee, thanks.”

Grandly, Trevor passes a bowling ball to Chester. “So you put three fingers in these three holes,” he explains seriously, demonstrating the simple task like it’s advanced astrophysics. “The same greasy fingers you use to eat George’s mozzarella sticks and curly fries.”

“And the same fingers you lick after eating said mozzarella sticks and curly fries,” Sasha adds.

“I’m shocked that Redwater Bowl hasn’t been taken out by a plague yet,” Chester says.

Trevor scoffs. “Biology doesn’t exist here,” he says, and he points towards the ten pins at the end of the lane. “Now, I want you to step forward, swing your arm, and release the ball once it’s close to the floor, okay? Easy-peasy.”

“Just make sure you follow through,” Sasha says.

“And make sure you aim.”

“And also make sure??—?”

“I don’t know, guys,” Chester interrupts, hefting the bowling ball in his hands. It’s honestly heavier than he expected, especially since Obie deactivated his Sanctum enchantments for the night. “This sounds complicated. Can we put up gutter rails or something? ”

Sasha turns to Obie, appalled. “All right. I’m done here. He’s your problem now.”

Rolling his eyes, Obie steps forward. “Just give it a shot, puppy,” he says, nodding down the lane. “See how you do. No need to be perfect?—hell, no need to even be halfway decent.”

The words make a strange thread of anticipation shiver through Chester. Sure, he’s noticed over the past few weeks that Obie’s team in particular seems to care more about having fun than achieving technical perfection, but??—

But Chester has never really learned a skill for fun before. He’s always had to be as perfect as possible in the Sanctum, always had to triple-check everything, always had to make sure he never let his guard down??—

The idea of having a place where failing is not only allowed, but almost encouraged, feels weirdly affirming. “Okay,” he says eventually, giving Obie a small smile. Taking a deep breath, he steps forward, squints towards the pins, throws the ball as hard as he can??—

It only gets halfway down the lane before rolling into the gutter. Sasha and Trevor both cheer. “Baby’s first gutter ball!” Sasha says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. “I’m so proud.”

“Perfect miss, my dude,” Trevor says emphatically, and he peers towards the Nack Bar like a dog that’s just spotted a squirrel. “In fact, I think we should celebrate. Who wants food?”

“Is that even a question?” Obie asks, digging a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket. Trevor looks like he’s about to protest, but at Obie’s raised eyebrows, he eventually takes the money.

Chester fights back a grin. Watching Obie unapologetically take care of his friends?—and his tenants, and the whole bowling alley?—is honestly kind of adorable .

“I’ll come with you,” Sasha volunteers. “To carry the drinks. Kyle, take our turns for us, would you?”

“I?—?” Chester gapes after them as they stride away without a backwards glance. “Okay! Sure! I’ll just lose the entire game for you!”

They don’t pay him the slightest bit of attention. Sighing, Chester turns back to Obie. “Should we wait for them?”

Obie scrutinizes the twins’ retreating backs before shaking his head. “No, let’s keep going,” he says, picking up another ball for Chester. “Here. This time, I want you to concentrate on following through?—don’t just let go of the ball and immediately drop your form.”

The words spark a memory from a few weeks ago. “Like with archery?”

“Exactly.” Obie nods at the lane. “Try it out.”

“If you insist.” Chester narrows his eyes at the pins, takes a step forward, lets the ball fall from his fingers??—

This time, he manages to knock down two pins. He fist-pumps, unreasonably pleased with himself. “Hell yeah!”

Obie grins back. It’s a type of smile that Chester doesn’t think he’s seen before, something torn between amused and fond, and for a split second, Chester forgets that Obie is a demon god who’s only teaching him how to bowl because they’re pretending to date.

Instead, it’s like they’re just having fun together.

“Better,” Obie says, grabbing another ball. “Now, I want you to focus on keeping your hips square with the lane?—don’t let your body twist so much.”

Chester squints back at him as the pinsetter resets the pins. “Keep my hips square? What does that even mean?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Without warning, Obie is standing close in front of Chester, his hands settling on either side of Chester’s waist. Chester almost jumps at the sudden contact.

“For the past two turns, you moved your body like this as you threw the ball,” he says, pressing his thumbs into Chester’s hips to guide them the slightest bit sideways.

“Instead, I want you to focus on keeping your body straight, like…” He tightens his fingers on Chester’s waist, tugging him around to face forward again. “Like this.”

Chester’s heart is hammering against his ribcage. Obie obviously isn’t trying to be flirty, but somehow, there’s something about the demonstration that feels far too intimate for public.

Far too intimate for Chester to be sharing with the man he’s spellbound to.

And, Chester realizes with a jolt, this might just be the first time Obie has really touched him without an audience watching.

Sure, Obie will put a hand on Chester’s shoulder to communicate telepathically, and there was that one memorable lap-sitting incident in the Courtyard, but besides that??—

Besides that, Obie has never settled his hands on Chester’s waist and leaned in close before. Chester is distressed to realize that he kind of likes it. “All right,” he says hoarsely, wincing at how breathless his voice sounds. “I’ll, um, give it a shot.”

Obie’s expression shifts. Abruptly, he snatches his hands away, leaving Chester’s skin cold where Obie’s palms were warm against it. “Yeah, try it out,” he says gruffly, stepping away. “See if it helps.”

Taking a deep breath, Chester focuses his gaze down the lane. Ten pins, one ball. Hips square, follow through. He can do this. He can do this.

And, even if he can’t, the team will cheer him on anyway. Obie won’t be upset. None of them will care that he’s bringing their average down. That, more than anything else, is what lets Chester’s shoulders relax as he strides forward, lets the ball slide off his fingers, concentrates on his form??—

The ball whizzes down the center of the lane, slams into the pins, and knocks all ten of them down. Delighted, Chester thrusts his fists in the air. “Home run!”

Obie buries his face in his hands. “Strike, puppy. It’s called a ‘strike.’”

“Field goal!” Chester insists, disproportionately elated at the tiny win. “Slam dunk! Knockout! Grand slam!”

“All right, now you’re just embarrassing us,” Obie says, and unexpectedly, he pulls Chester into a hug.

Chester’s brain short-circuits. Obie’s arms are firm around Chester’s torso and his hands are steady where they’re splayed across Chester’s back, and his body is so solid and so warm? ? —

Holy crap, Chester is pretty sure he could live in this hug. He melts into Obie’s arms, tightening his own grip around him. He can’t even remember the last time he hugged someone, much less hugged them like this, full of warmth and affection and??—

Chester’s heart sinks like a stone.

Right. Of course it’s affectionate. They’re pretending to date, after all. And of course Obie would hug his boyfriend after “Kyle” got a strike.

Chester shouldn’t feel nearly this disappointed that it’s not real. Forcing a smile, he pulls away. “Looks like I really am better at this than you,” he says, going for a teasing tone and probably missing it by about a mile.

Luckily, Obie doesn’t seem to notice. “Beginner’s luck,” he says, clapping Chester’s shoulder.

And then, just as quickly, his voice wafts through Chester’s head. But seriously. Good job, Locke.

Just like that, Chester’s heart flip-flops embarrassingly again, and no, no? ? —

This isn’t good. This is so not good. Chester can’t be starting to Feel Things for a demon, much less a demon god.

It doesn’t matter that Obie has started letting Chester into his life, or that he always helps Chester clean interrogation rooms when no one is watching, or that he always sounds so irritated when the other interrogators talk down to Chester, or?—or??—

Is this how JJ felt? JJ and Roma both?

Obie’s eyebrows furrow. “Ches?—um, Kyle? Puppy? You okay?”

Before Chester can even begin to answer that question, another voice cuts in from behind them. “Well, looks like someone finally broke our losing streak.”

Starting with surprise, Chester whips around to see none other than Maggie Khan standing behind them, her eyebrows raised and a manila folder in her hand.