“Not unless I tell them.” That made her smile at least. I’m a fucker, sure, but I’m sweet enough.
The garage was thick with the warmth of the summer; a man could pass out sifting through junk in this heat. I couldn’t see any of the walls anymore, instead they were piled high with boxes and crates. A whole bunch of them soggy and green with mould, some of the wet cardboard eroded away to reveal the insides, and only one or two repaired with stripes of duct tape that recalled Bubba’s neck in a way that made me wince. Strapped to the ceiling was our little old row boat which we used to take out on the Silverpine back when Pop was still alive and kicking. Now though, cobwebs wove their way around it. Looking closely, I could see a batch of spider-eggs, laid and waiting.
Mom came out with a s
