“Shouldn’t you be in my shop right now selling all of the flowers so that I can retire in one billion years?”

Kent leaves the door open so I can follow him into his house. He has an apron on, and I smell garlic, and freshly chopped herbs, and -

“What are you cooking?” He gives me a frown over his shoulder. “No, okay, I didn’t abandon the shop, Destinee needed more hours so she can pay off a parking ticket or something. I told her she could cover the last hour of my shift tonight.”

“So what are you doing at my house, when I am elbow deep in dinner preparation?”

“I brought something for Aiden.”

Kent’s eyebrows shoot up. He drops his crossed arms and begins walking to the kitchen, and I jog behind him, my mouth watering as we grow closer to the pleasant mix of cooking smells. Kent heads straight to the stove and begins mixing something simmering there.

“Okay, so what the hell happened? I get an earful of complaints about you having to merely pick him up from the airport, and now suddenly you’re just here with something for him?”

“Shut up, dude!” I hiss, glancing at the outside stairs that lead to Aiden’s part of the house.

“Don’t worry, he’s not here right now.” Kent slings a dishcloth over his shoulder and stares at me, mixing away. “So? What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you bring him?”

“Nothing.”

“Is it a gift?”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s a gift.”

“I thought you two were enemies? Do enemies give each other gifts?”

“They - yes. They give each other ominous gifts.”

“Oh, so is your gift ominous?” Kent rests the spoon on the counter and turns to look at me. “Go on then. Let’s see your ominous gift.”

I have no choice but to take it from its brown paper bag and set it on the counter. Kent picks it up and examines it.

“It looks like a white Kalanchoe. K. blossfeldiana? A small flowering plant in a pot. Not particularly poisonous. It doesn’t even have thorns. And why do I get the feeling you paid for this instead of just taking a clipping home from the shop?”

“I used my employee discount,” I protest, trying not to sound too surly. “It’s an easy plant to take care of, and I thought, you know, he can’t possibly have room for anything to make his place all that homey, not in that one backpack.”

“Well, I stand corrected. This is all sounding very ominous.”

“Whatever! If he’s not here anyways I’ll take my ass home, and give it to him later when there isn’t a talking apron giving me a lecture-”

“Relax. You can leave it in his room. Are you staying for dinner?”

“No, thank you very much.”

“I’m making chicken parmesan.”

“That - hmm.”

“And the Sheriff is extremely grounded, so she can’t join me anyways. I have room for company. Go put the plant in Aiden’s room. I think he left the door unlocked.”

He did, as I find a few minutes later. The sliding glass door easily slips aside and lets me into Kent’s attic - or Aiden’s apartment, as I guess I should get used to calling it. It still feels weirdly tenuous, him living here. Maybe it’s the one backpack, but it feels like he might change his mind and skip town again, just as suddenly and silently as he did before.

I flip on the light and stop, staring. It looks different in here.

He’s left the TV, couch, and coffee table where they were, but there’s now an old desk tucked against the far wall. I vaguely recognize it as an old display piece that used to be in the flower shop. Aiden seems to have converted it from purely aesthetic to actually useful: I can see from here that it’s scattered with stuff. It looks a bit ornate compared to everything else. Leaning against the wall behind it is an old mirror, with a few spots on the glass and a faded golden frame carved with decorative frippery.

He’s got the blinds pulled all the way up at every window. I can see more of the night sky through them than I expected. The perk of these sloped, oddly-angled ceilings, I guess. On the couch is the discarded sweater he was wearing at the party the night before last. The hushed, lengthy, 3 am conversation that he and I shared on the sidewalk creeps back into my mind at the sight of it.

I guess the plant should go on the desk? I stride across the room, peer down at the desk, and stop.

“What the fuck…?”

The desk’s surface is not just scattered with things, it’s crammed. There are strange little rocks and colorful beads and a few dried strands of plant life. A screwdriver. A pair of reading glasses. A single gear wheel. And, perhaps most curious of all: the map.

It’s the same map I saw him use when he was wandering around lost before. Now, however, he’s added to the design. There are long, straight swipes of ink up and down the map, as if someone went crazy with a ruler and a thin Sharpie, and in all different colors. What’s more, there are scribbled notes in the margins, in a handwriting a little too sloppy for me to make out clearly.

For some reason my eyes jump to the place on the map that marks my apartment. I just want to see if he wrote anything there, but he didn’t. I’m tempted to pick up the map to look more closely, but there are little colorful pebbles pinning down each corner so that the paper lies flat. If I start moving things around, Aiden may know. Still, I hesitate with my fingers hovering over the map. Should I take a picture or something, so I can figure it out later?

It abruptly occurs to me that I’m just snooping my way around Aiden’s place. This is probably wrong. I back away from the desk and head for the sliding glass door, only to stop just outside. I can hear murmured voices downstairs, so either Aiden is back or Ellen has been relieved from time out.

The answer becomes apparent when I step back into the kitchen, because Kent looks up with a stupid smile on his stupid face.

“Someone’s back and can receive his gift in person,” he says, and I realize that I forgot to even set down the plant. I’m just holding it like an idiot. Oh, god. I have to get out of here. Do I have time to grab some chicken parm before I go?

“Okay, I’m just gonna leave, actually,” I tell Kent, stepping towards the back kitchen door. “Can you just-?”

“Hey, Jamie,” Aiden says, stepping into the kitchen and dropping his bag on the floor by the fridge.

“Oh, Aiden! You’re here. And you - you look - oh.” I pause, staring at him. He’s wearing. A suit. A nice suit in a deep charcoal color, with a crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. No tie.

“I’m just gonna go check on the recalcitrant sheriff,” Kent says primly. He quits the kitchen as Aiden shrugs out of the suit jacket and tucks it over a chair.

“Hot date?” I ask, as he undoes the buttons at the wrists of his shirt.

“Super hot.” He’s rolling up his sleeves to the fold of his elbows.

“Went to see Melanie?” I blurt out, before I realize what I’m doing.

“What?” Aiden’s eyebrows quirk up. “No. I was joking.” He surprises me by grabbing a handful of my hair and using his knuckles to mess it all up. “What’s up with you? You seem weird. And why are you holding a plant?”

“It’s - oh.” God, what am I doing? “It’s from - Kent. He said it’s a housewarming present. I brought it over from the store.” I shove it into Aiden’s hands, and he takes it carefully, his fingers brushing over mine.

“Wow. That’s really nice of him.” Aiden holds it up for closer inspection, while I run my thumbs across my suddenly burning knuckles. “It’s pretty.”

“It’ll be nicer when the flowers blossom. I can show you how to take care of it, when you want.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at me brightly. “I could probably use a little help.”

“Whenever,” I answer, and my voice is a little too soft. I quickly look for something else to talk about. “Why are you in the suit?”

“I had a job interview.”

“Wow. Look at you, Mr. Business. So what are you? Stockbroker? Attorney? Loan shark?”

“This suit must look nicer than it is,” Aiden muses, glancing down at his outfit.

“Which side are you on, then? Mergers or acquisitions?”

“I play for both teams, actually,” Aiden says, setting the plant down on the table. Kent chooses this moment to make his reappearance, which is good, because I just choked a little and I have no idea what I might have responded to that particular joke.

“Alright, well, Ellen isn’t allowed out of her room for maybe a hundred more years,” he sighs, crossing to check on the oven. “Two hundred. Three.”

“She broke a vase earlier,” Aiden explains, glancing at me.

“Julia’s grandmother’s vase.” Kent gnashes his teeth, tugging on some oven mitts. “Ellen can stay up there until she apologizes to me. And to Julia, and her grandmother. And to the vase. And to ceramics, in general.”

Julia left behind a lot of her stuff when she moved out. I’m guessing that Kent isn’t excited at the prospect of telling her that one of her precious possessions is broken. He admitted to me once that he avoids calling her. It makes things harder on him. I think the last time they spoke was after Kasey’s death, and Julia phoned Kent that time, not the other way around.

It’s gone a little quiet in the kitchen at the mention of Julia. Kent clears his throat, straightening up from the oven with a steaming tray in his hands.

“Who’s hungry? Jamie’s staying for dinner, Aiden.”

“I didn’t realize everyone would be home.” I don’t know why I feel the need to qualify my presence, but here we are.

“Me neither,” Kent says, turning to look at Aiden. “That was a short interview, wasn’t it?”

“Well, the position has been vacant for three years. They only asked me like, five questions. I think I’m probably going to get it.”

So does that mean you’ll be wearing this suit pretty often? I almost ask, and catch myself just in time. Remember who this is, I tell myself sternly. It’s Aiden fucking Callahan.

“You guys grab silverware,” Kent calls over his shoulder, exiting to the dining area with three glasses of water precariously balanced in his hands. I dart over to him as Aiden pulls open the drawer and begins extracting knives and forks.

“Kent. Do you want me to text Julia?” I ask quietly, as he starts setting the glasses down on the table. “I can do it, if you want.”

“No, no.” He waves a frustrated hand at me. “I’ll do it myself. Don’t want it to look like I’m running away.”

“Okay, I’m just saying, I don’t mind-”

“No, Jamie. It’s fine. Stop.”

“Okay, okay.” I nod awkwardly and turn back to the kitchen, and Kent grabs my arm.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, running his hand over his chin. “It’s just, you know.”

“No, I know.”

“With everything-”

“I understand. Honestly, Kent.”

He takes a deep breath and seems to steady himself out.

“By the way, you made Aiden sound so terrible,” he tells me, laying out some napkins. “I was scared to have him as a tenant. He’s been just fine so far. Ellen loves him already.”

“Oh, does she?” I ask uncomfortably, wondering where to even start with explaining everything to Kent. Thankfully Aiden appears in the doorway, putting a swift end to that line of conversation.

“By the way, Kent, thanks for the plant,” he says, setting out the forks on the table. “That was nice, man, I appreciate it.”

“The plant?” Kent glances over at me, then back to Aiden. “Oh, the plant. Right. From me. Uh, you’re welcome.” He moves behind me to set out a plate, and murmurs in my ear: “Explanation later.”

“Probably not,” I whisper back, and hastily take my seat.

~~~~

“Can you come up for a second?” Aiden asks me quietly, as I hand him the last plate to dry.

“Yeah,” I say at once, and then, realizing I probably shouldn’t have agreed so readily - “What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you alone for a minute.”

My stomach jumps in a way that’s oddly pleasant.

“Uh - yeah. Let’s go.”

I try to breathe coolness into my cheeks as we walk up the stairs. Calm down, calm down! What is wrong with me, god. I come to a hasty halt: I expected Aiden to let us into the apartment, but instead he stops in the little outdoor area with the chairs and glass table. He doesn’t even sit down, just stops and wheels about to face me. He sets the plant down on the table, then stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“Oops. Guess I left the light on,” he says, glancing through the sliding glass door.

“Oh, yep.” It wasn’t me at all. “So, what’s up?”

It’s a brilliantly starry night, and the top of Aiden’s hair is silvered with moonlight. He looks much as he did after Angie’s party, on the long way home. It used to be that Aiden’s face was always flat with apathetic confidence. Now Aiden’s face is much more expressive. Quick to smile, and to frown. In this moment he actually looks a little awkward, which is an entirely new flavor on him. His eyes dart around over my head, and he nibbles his lip, apparently chewing over what to say.

“I just wanted to thank you for the other night. With Ralph, Noah, and Grant…” His eyes finally settle on my face. “I didn’t expect them to be like that. I just remembered us four getting on so well in high school. But that makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t like who I was back then, and they did. They still do.” He swallows, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. “Anyways. There’s a lot that’s new about my life, recently. I like the new parts a lot better than the old ones. I’ve been thinking about it since the party, and… it’s time for new friends, too.”

He pulls something out of the pocket of his suit pants. A little slip of paper, which he offers me. I take it and unfold it: it’s a phone number, written out in the same sloppy handwriting that’s all over his map. I stare at it for a second, and then look back up at Aiden. He seems sincere, his eyes serious and trained on my face.

“Listen,” he continues urgently, leaning closer to me. “You’ve been really nice since I came home, and I appreciate that. But I also think you’re a softy and you wouldn’t behave any other way. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t really want to. If you’re just being nice because you’re a nice person, and you don’t actually want to be friends, don’t feel any pressure. I know what an asshole I was to you all the time, so I wouldn’t blame you. My phone number isn’t that impressive of a peace offering. I’m just - I’m still trying to figure this all out.”

I’m speechless. I’ve also never heard Aiden talk for this long without stopping in my life. He seems a little out of breath when he finishes, and he’s clearly waiting for me to say something. My cheeks are red. I don’t know why, exactly. My heart is hammering. I have no idea what my facial expression is doing.

“You can think about it,” Aiden says, taking a step back. “Just - text me, if you feel like it. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. I promise.”

He scoops the plant up off of the table and turns to the sliding glass door, and am I imagining it, or is his face red, too?

“Goodnight,” he says, over his shoulder. “And thanks again for your help at the party. For being my - uh, companion plant.”

The door shuts with a quiet click behind him before I can think of a word to say.