That got him to roll his eyes. “You’re not doing to die.”
“Make up some story about how I saved your life, okay?”
He looked at me. “Maybe we should wait for my dad.”
“Should we? Yeah, but are we? No, we have to get him. He should have flown off by now, and we both know it.”
Amos cursed again under his breath, and I gulped. Might as well get it over with. Five minutes from now wasn’t going to change anything.
My mom would’ve done it.
“Okay, I can do this,” I tried to hype myself up. “Just like a chicken, right?”
“You’ve picked up a chicken before?”
I eyed Am. “No, but I’ve seen my friend do it. It can’t be that hard.” I hoped.
I could do this.
Just like a chicken. Just like a chicken.
Opening and closing my hands with the big gloves on, I bounced my shoulders and moved my neck from side to side. “Okay.” I inched closer to the bird, willing my heart to slow down. Please don’t let him smell fear. Please don’t let him smell fear. “All right, love, pal, pretty boy. Be nice, okay? Be nice. Please be nice. You’re beautiful. I love you. I just want to take care of you. Please be nice—” I swooped down. Then I shouted, “Ahh! I got him! Open the crate! Open the crate! Am, open it! Shit, he’s heavy!”
Out of the corner of my eye, Amos rushed over with the crate, door open, and set it on the ground. “Hurry, Ora!”
I held my breath as I waddled, holding what I was pretty sure was a steroid-taking bird—who wasn’t struggling at all, honestly—and as fast as possible, set him inside, facing away from me, and Amos slammed it shut just as I got my arms out of there without getting murdered.
We both jumped back and then peeked through the metal gate.
He was just hanging out in there. He was fine. At least I was pretty sure he was; it wasn’t like he was making faces.
I held up my hand, and Am high-fived it. “We did it!”
The teenager grinned. “I’ll call Dad.”
We high-fived again, pumped up.
Amos hustled back inside his house, and I crouched down to look at my friend once more. He was a good hawk. “Good job, pretty boy,” I praised him.
Most of all though, I’d done it! I got him in there! All by myself.
How about that?
* * *
An hour later, I ran down the stairs at the sound of a car outside. Amos had said that his dad would be by as soon as possible. After relaying the information over, we’d split up, both of us too riled up with adrenaline to get back to writing; he’d gone back in to play video games, and I had gone upstairs. I had planned on going into town and hitting the shops to find something to send to Florida, but I had to know what was going to happen to my new friend.
By the time I opened the door into the garage, Mr. Rhodes was already out and walking over. He was in his uniform, apparently working on the weekend, and I’d be lying if I said that my mouth didn’t water a little at the way his pants hugged his muscular thighs. But my favorite part was the way his shirt was tucked in.
He was hot as shit.
“Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I called out.
“Hi,” he actually replied, those long legs eating up the distance inside.
I went to stand next to the crate. “Look what we found.”
He took his sunglasses off, and his gray eyes settled on me briefly, eyebrows shooting up just a little. “You should’ve waited,” he said, coming to a stop in front of the crate too and then bending over.
He stood up straight almost immediately, looked at me, and then crouched that time, setting the leg of his sunglasses inside of his shirt as he said, in a weird, strained voice that didn’t sound pissed off… just strange, “You picked him up?”
“Yeah, I think he’s on ’roids. He’s pretty heavy.”
He cleared his throat and hovered there before Mr. Rhodes’s head tipped up toward me. He asked very slowly, “With your bare hands?”
“Am brought me some of your leather gloves.”
He peeked into the crate again, staring in there for a long, long time. Actually, probably just a minute, but it felt a lot longer. He only said one thing in that same strange tone, “Aurora….”
“Am said we should wait, okay, but I didn’t want my friend here to run off and then wind up on the street and get run over. Or something else. Look how majestic he is. I couldn’t let him get hurt,” I rambled. “I didn’t know hawks got that big. Is that normal?”
He pressed his lips together. “They don’t.”
Why did he sound so strangled? “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt him?”
He brought a big hand up to his face and smoothed it down from his forehead to his chin before he shook his head. His voice turned soft as his gaze moved back in my direction; he eyed my arms and face. “He didn’t hurt you?”
“Hurt me? No. He didn’t even seem to care. He was very polite. I told him we were going to help him, so maybe he could sense it.” I’d seen videos all the time of wild animals turning passive when they could sense someone was trying to help them.
It took me a moment to realize what was happening.
His shoulders started shaking. Then his chest. The next thing I knew, he started laughing.
Mr. Rhodes started laughing, and it was rough and sounded in a way like an engine struggling to come to life, all choked and harsh.
But I was way too disturbed to appreciate it because… because he was laughing at me. “What’s so funny?”
He could barely get the words out. “Angel… that’s not a hawk. It’s a golden eagle.”
* * *
It took him forever to stop laughing.
When he finally did, he just started cracking up all over again, these big belly laughs along with what I was sure were a couple of fresh tears his hands scrubbed away as he laughed.
I think I was too stunned to really appreciate that rough, unused sound.
But once he stopped laughing for the second time, he explained—wiping his eyes while he did—that he was going to take my friend to a licensed rehabilitation facility and he’d be back later. I blew my friend a kiss through the grate, and Mr. Rhodes started laughing all over again.
I didn’t think it was that funny. Hawks were brown. My friend was brown. It was an honest mistake.
Except for the fact that apparently, eagles were several times bigger than their smaller cousins.
I left to go into town then, buying some gifts for my family before circling back to the grocery store. By the time I got home, the Parks and Wildlife truck was back. Most importantly though, there was a long ladder propped against the side of the garage apartment, and at the very top rung was a big man holding a can in one hand and aiming it toward the seam between the roof and the siding.
I parked my car in its usual spot and hopped out, ignoring my bags in the back seat so I could see what was going on. Wandering toward the ladder, I called out, “Whatcha doing?”
Mr. Rhodes was about as high up as he could possibly reach, the arm holding the can extended about as far from the rest of his body as possible. “Filling holes.”
“Do you need help?”
He didn’t reply before he reached a little over to the side and apparently filled in another hole.
For bats.
He was filling in holes for the bats.
Since I hadn’t had another visitor, I’d forgotten all about him filling them in.
“I got one more and I’m done,” he said before scooting over just a little toward the side and filling in another. He tucked the can into the back band of his pants and climbed slowly down.
I watched his thighs and butt the whole time. I wasn’t proud of myself.
He’d changed from his uniform into jeans and another T-shirt. I wanted to whistle but didn’t.
He finally hopped down and turned, taking the can out from where he’d stashed it.
“Thank you for doing that,” I tol
d him, eyeing the gray hair mixed in with the brown. It looked so nice on him.
Mr. Rhodes’s eyebrows rose a little bit. “Didn’t want you to give me that one-star review,” he deadpanned. Shocking the shit out of me.
First, he’d laughed earlier; now he was making a joke? Had he gotten kidnapped by aliens? Had he finally figured out that I wasn’t some creep?
I wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like it mattered. I was going to embrace it. Who knew when the next time he was this friendly was going to be? “It would have been like a three,” I told him.
One corner of his mouth went up just a little.
Was that a smile?
“I was about to put up that bat house that almost killed you next,” he went on.
He was joking with me. My first changeling. I didn’t even know how to respond he surprised me so bad. As I picked my jaw up off the ground, my mom’s voice spoke softly into my ear and I pushed my shoulders down. It was my turn to get serious. “Would you mind showing me how to do it instead?” I paused. “I’d really like to know how.”
He towered over me, watchfully, like maybe he thought I was joking. But he must have been able to tell I was serious because then he nodded. “All right. Let’s get you some gloves and what we’ll need.”
I brightened up. “Really?”
His eyes bounced from one of mine to the other. “If you want to learn, I’ll show you.”
“I really do. Just in case I ever have to do it again.” I hoped not.
He dipped his chin. “I’ll be right back.”
While he went inside to get the gloves, I grabbed my bags from the car and took them upstairs. By the time I made it back, Mr. Rhodes had lowered the ladder and moved it back to where it belonged on the other side of the garage apartment. He brought around the ladder that had tried to kill me and dipped back into the house to grab the bat house that he’d brought downstairs at some point.
“Take the house,” he said, holding it in his arms.
Take the house, please? Ooh.
I smiled and reached to take it. We headed off toward the same tree I had attempted to use the last time. How he’d pinpointed it, I had no idea. Maybe I’d left the imprint of a human body in the dirt around it. “Did you have a busy day?” I asked him instead.
He didn’t look at me. “I spent all morning on a trail because a hiker found some remains.” He cleared his throat. “After that, I took a golden eagle to a rehabilitator—”
I groaned. “It really was an eagle?”
“One of the biggest ones the rehabber has ever seen. She said she had to weigh close to fifteen pounds.”
I stopped walking. “Fifteen pounds?”
“She had a good laugh over you snatching it up and putting it in the crate like it was a parakeet.”
“Good thing I like bringing people joy.”
I was pretty sure he smiled, or at least did that thing that would only be considered a smile on his face, this mouth-twisting thing. “It’s not every day someone grabs a predator and calls it a pretty boy,” he said.
“Amos told you that?”
“He told me everything.” He stopped. “I’m going to set up the ladder right there.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“She is going to be okay. The wing didn’t look broken, and the rehabber didn’t think her skull was fractured.” He moved around me and asked, “Have you used a drill before?”
I’d never even used a hammer until a couple weeks ago. “No.”
He nodded. “Hold it steady and press the button.” He showed me, holding up the black and green power tool. Mr. Rhodes’s eyes met mine. “You know what? Practice right here.” He pointed at a spot on the tree before setting up a screw on the tip.
I nodded and took it from him. I did it, screwing it in in about a split second. “Nailed it!” I glanced at him. “Get it?”
He didn’t do that partial smile that time, but you couldn’t win them all. “It’s a screw.” He gestured upward. “Get up there. I’ll pass you everything and talk you through it. I won’t be able to get up there since it’ll be over weight capacity,” my landlord warned.
I bet it would. He had to weigh over two hundred pounds, easy.
I nodded though and started climbing up before a touch on my ankle made me pause and glance down.
“If you can’t hold anything, drop it. Don’t fall or let it fall on you, understand?” he asked. “Drop it. Don’t save it with your face. Don’t break its fall.”
That sounded simple enough.
“Get up there and do it.”
I could do this.
I smiled and finished climbing up. He carefully handed over the drill and screws before giving me a tube I didn’t recognize. Glue? My knees started shaking, and I tried my best to ignore them… and the way the ladder seemed to move a little too even though he was holding it.
“Careful. You got it…,” he said as I blew out a breath. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m doing great,” I repeated, wiping my hand on my jeans when I realized it was sweaty before picking the drill back up.
“Set it down. See that tube I handed you? It’s open. Put a drop on the screws, just to get them to really stick,” he instructed from below.
“Got it.” I did what he said, then called down, “If I drop it, run, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, angel. Time for the drill.”
“Aurora,” I corrected him, blowing out a shaky breath. That wasn’t the first time he’d called me the wrong name, I was pretty certain.
“Okay, you only need one screw. It doesn’t have to be perfect,” he instructed, before handing out more steps that I followed with slippery hands. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m doing great,” I repeated after I’d double-checked that the screw was in well and he’d handed up the bat house. My arms were shaking. Even my neck was tense. But I was doing it.
“Here,” he said, holding up a bottle as high as possible. I recognized it as the attractant that Clara had sent me a screenshot of when she’d realized hers was expired.
Aiming my face away, I sprayed it. “Anything else?”
“No, now pass me the drill and glue and get down.”
I peeked down. “Please?” I joked.
And his stony, serious face was back.
Much better.
I did what he asked, knees still shaking, and started to climb down. “I’m not that—oh shit.” My toes missed a step, but I caught myself. “I’m fine, I meant to do that.” I peeked down at him again.
Yeah, his hard face was still there. “I bet you did,” he muttered, amusing me way more than he probably meant to.
I finished climbing down the steps and instantly handed over the extra screws. “Thank you for helping me. And doing the foam stuff. And being so patient.”
His full lips pressed together as he stood there, watching me again, his gaze moving over my face.
Mr. Rhodes cleared his throat, and all the hints of playfulness I’d seen glimpses of before disappeared. “I did it for me.” His serious voice was back even as his gaze flicked to a spot behind me. “Don’t want you screaming at the top of your lungs in the middle of the night, waking me up.”
My smile faltered before I caught it, and I reminded myself that it wasn’t like I wasn’t aware he didn’t really like me. All this was just… him being a landlord and a decent guy deep down. I’d asked him to show me what to do, and he had. That was it.
But it still hurt even though I knew it was stupid. It took everything in me to keep my face neutral. “Thanks anyway,” I told him, hearing how funny I sounded, but taking a step back. “I don’t want to take up more of your time, but thanks again.”
Mr. Rhodes’s lips parted right as I half-assed waved.
“Bye, Mr. Rhodes.”
I headed back into the house before he got anything else out, holding onto my triumphs for the day. That was what I wanted to linger over. Not over his wishy-washy moods.
Next thing I knew, I was going to be catching bats barehanded. Okay, that was never actually going to happen, but right then, I felt like I could do anything.
Except get my neighbor to like me, but that was okay.
It really was.
Chapter 14
I woke up to knocking.
Loud, frantic knocking.
“Ora!” an extremely familiar voice called out.
I blinked and sat up. “Amos?” I yelled back, picking up my phone from where I’d left it lying on the floor, plugged in. The screen said it was seven in the morning.
On my day off. Sunday.
What the hell was Am doing awake this early too? He’d literally told me at least three times that he usually stayed up all night playing video games and wouldn’t wake up until after one unless his dad was home. It had made me laugh.
Throwing my legs over the side, I called out again, “Amos? You okay?”
He replied then as I grabbed a hoodie from where I’d left it draped over one of the table’s chairs and slipped it on. Despite how warm it got during the day, some nights still got cool. “Oraaaa! Yes! Come here!”
What the hell was going on? I yawned and pulled on the sleep shorts I’d peeled off last night too, sliding them up my legs at the top of the stairs before I ran down as fast as possible. Amos wasn’t a dramatic kid. We’d spent so much time together over the last month, I would have picked up on it. If anything, he was sensitive and shy, even though he was coming out of his bubble around me more and more every day.
At least one of the Rhodes men was.
Unlocking then pulling open the door, I was already squinting at him.
Still in his pajamas—a wrinkled T-shirt from the town’s high school and basketball shorts I’d bet he’d inherited from Mr. Rhodes—he stared back at me. There was a drool stain on his cheek, and even his eyelashes looked a little crusty…. But the rest of him was wide awake. Alarmed even.
All Rhodes Lead Here Page 20
