Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
While we ate, we took turns filling Noa’s arms and parts of his face with doodles. I tried to keep them funny, while Master and Daddy moved into the sweet territory. Best brat ever, darling boy, Uncle Lucian’s chipmunk, FRECKLES AF, and sweetest shit-stirrer graced his arms and neck—and a few funny anecdotes from me. Such as the time Greer ate a bad burrito and spent a breath-play event running between the demo stage and the bathroom, or the time Reese went on a soapbox rant about how superior Sadists were and a bug flew into his mouth.
But then Master changed direction. He finished the last of his food, picked up the marker, and wrote a short list on Noa’s hand.
Lettuce, crickets, strawberries, worms, dandelions
Daddy and I exchanged a grin, whereas Noa only got puzzled. Maybe he’d expected another term of endearment or a funny memory, and instead he got…what he didn’t realize was a grocery list for a lizard.
“Is that supposed to make me laugh?” Noa asked.
“Oh no.” Master shook his head. “This is very serious business.”
KC nodded and added his own doodle. A rectangle, in which he drew the topside view of a bed, two nightstands, and—okay, it had to be their bedroom, and that box thing by the window could be the terrarium?
“What’re you doing, Daddy?” Noa dipped down and tried to figure out the drawing.
“Can’t you see it’s our bedroom?” Daddy asked.
It was Master’s turn again, and he gently gripped Noa’s chin. “This is an important detail, according to two of our newer members.” Ty and Lane, of course. And the word he jotted down on Noa’s nose was “bioactive.”
Which gave me an idea for what to write next. I joined Noa’s side of the table once more and accepted the marker from Master. And then I wrote a handful of words while he used his phone’s selfie mode as a mirror.
“Bioactive? I’m so confuzzled!” Noa cried out.
I smirked to myself. His neck looked almost as tattooed as Kit’s!
Substrate, soil, leaf litter, and springtails.
He immediately checked what I’d written, and I believed this would do it. Think, baby. You know what this means. He’d loved pet-sitting for Ty’s lizard over New Year’s. Noa had gone over to Ty’s house every day, even though it hadn’t been necessary for a reptile that didn’t eat every day. Tank, Ty’s lizard, ate four times a week, I’d learned. Because Noa had told me, and he’d filled his e-reader with articles and books about blue-tongued skinks.
We didn’t know for sure if that was the type of lizard Noa wanted, but it was the one Ty and Lane recommended for Noa’s level of dedication.
“He doesn’t strike me as a gecko person,” Ty had chuckled. “Get him a bluey. They’re wonderful—and they have character.”
Noa swallowed and shifted in his seat, and he wouldn’t look away from the screen of his phone that showed my scribbles.
“Um…”
“By the way, Ty and Lane are coming over for dinner on Friday,” KC mentioned.
Noa went rigid and widened his eyes at Daddy. “Really?”
I bent down and kissed the top of his head. “You know what’s happening here, right?”
He let out a breath and nodded jerkily, and I worried we’d gone too far. I didn’t want him upset again!
Master gathered Noa’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Daddy, Cam, and I were talking, and we think it’s time you finally get that lizard.”
Noa bit down on his lip, and his eyes welled up so fast. His chin wrinkled a little too, and I had to hug him. Even if they were a better brand of tears, I didn’t like it.
“Do you mean it?” he whimpered.
“We mean it, freckles,” KC murmured. “You’ve more than proven that you can take care of a pet.”
“Oh.” Noa sniffled and buried his face against my chest. Within seconds, his shoulders shook with silent cries, and Master and Daddy came over to squish him—and me—in a tight hug.
Master cleared his throat. “Just to be sure, these are happy tears, yes?”
“Yeah,” Noa sobbed. “I’m gonna name him Fluffernutter. Nut for short.”
I choked on emotion and amusement and pressed my lips to his hair. Fitting name, after his favorite breakfast that Daddy and Master could make him without burning down the kitchen.
“Excellent name,” Daddy chuckled thickly. “As long as you don’t eat him.”
That made our boy laugh through his heart-wrenching sobs. “I wouldn’t do that, Daddy. I’m gonna l-love him a healthy, non-cannibalistic amount.”
I exhaled a laugh and sniffled.
My heart clenched with worries and hope—a bit of relief. Because we were one step closer, right? He was gonna be okay. He had to be. No matter how long it took.
The following Friday, I worked from home and completed my tasks as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I couldn’t postpone my Zoom meeting with a few coworkers at two PM, but I got a lot done before then. I went to the grocery store, mostly to say hi to Noa, because even though his spirits had lifted significantly since the other day, we were expecting dips. But he seemed pretty cheerful in the cereal aisle, where he was restocking shelves, so I breathed a sigh of relief and texted KC and Master a Noa update.