Sadie (18+)

Chapter 5

The house was eerily quiet once everyone had left for the day. I sprawled out on Julia's bed amongst the calming beige hues of her bedroom, watching rain droplets slither down the window, listening to the pitter-patter as the mild storm continued.

I dozed on and off for about an hour, but a door slamming downstairs caused my eyelids to flutter open. When I tried to fall back asleep, I heard it again. After deciding that I'd napped long enough, I followed the noise, heading downstairs.

Vincent stood in the kitchen, beer in hand. I watched quietly for a moment, unbeknownst to him, taking in the dirt smudged on his ripped shirt, the darkened knuckles, the sweat glimmering on his forehead. The tip of the bottle connected with his lips, head tilted back, and I let out an involuntary sigh, my heart thudding at the pleasant sight before me.

The floorboards exposed my presence when I shifted; he licked his top lip, then looked over at me lingering in the hallway.

"What's up, kid?" he asked when I approached him.

"Can I have some?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

He nodded, retrieving a bottle from the fridge and effortlessly popping the cap off. "Don't tell Gina. I probably shouldn't be giving you this."

I smirked and grabbed the bottle from him. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Cleaning out the basement," he replied. "Making room for the Christmas decorations. Needed a break."

I nodded, taking a sip of the beer. I scrunched up my nose when the liquid hit my tongue. "Wow, this is bitter."

Vincent chuckled. "Not your favorite?"

"Not really," I said, a laugh following. "But thanks."

He looked at me for a little too long, his Adam's apple bobbing, then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that I told Gina about last night. It was out of concern for you."

"I'm not mad," I said. "I get it. No worries."

He breathed out a sigh. "Good."

I took another swig of the awful beer, my gaze settling on his defined jaw and the slight clenching it performed.

"Do you want some help with the decorations?"

"I would like that," he replied. "Thank you."

After we finished our beers, I followed him down into the basement, eyes trained on his back.

"Can you put the garland in the red box?" he asked, pointing at it sprawled across the cement floor.

I nodded and crouched down, beginning to neatly bunch up the glittery strand. I glanced over at Vincent who was rummaging through a large bin, objects banging together. The look of concentration on his face and the furrowed thick brows set my heart into a frenzy; I found myself trying to push the inappropriate thought away for not the first time, and surely not the last.

"Oh," I heard Vincent mumble, his hands halting to a stop.

"What's wrong?" I asked, turning to him.

"There's a nest in here," he said. "Mice, maybe."

"Ew," I said. "Don't put that anywhere near me."

He lifted a pile of something hairy from the bin. Strands of fuzz, fabric, shredded cardboard and other debris were woven into a cozy, ball-shaped nest. He peered down at it, his hands cupping the mass of fuzz with a gentle touch.

"Would you look at that," he mumbled, his voice laced with a surprising tenderness.

"Are there any in there?" I asked, though part of me would rather not know.

I could just make out something dark and tiny wiggling about, resisting the urge to scream and run up the stairs.

"Come look," he said, motioning for me to come over. I ignored my fear of hantavirus for the moment and walked over, crouching to his height.

I peered down at the small bundle nestled in his hand. Five baby mice squirmed around, their pink noses nudging each other in an attempt to burrow deeper into the thick clump of scrap, shielding themselves from the light.

Their bodies were amazingly small, not much bigger than my thumb. Dark grey fur dusted their bodies, but it was very fine—it only must have just started growing in.

"They're not as gross as I thought," I observed. "They're actually kind of cute."

"Aren't they?" he agreed. "I would prefer they weren't in my basement, but they're harmless down here."

"What will you do with them?" I asked.

"Put them back," he answered. "Once the mother finds them and sees that the nest is disturbed, she'll move them to somewhere safer."

I imagined a mother mouse carrying her babies one by one in her mouth, skittering across the basement floor with her little feet.

"How do you know this?" I asked, intrigued by his knowledge.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, actually. I've always liked animals, even the small ones. Gina, not so much, so maybe don't tell her."

We watched their tiny bodies wriggle around, stubby tails twitching. A faint squeak erupted out of one, and I jumped back, alarmed at the scary yet simultaneously cute noise.

"Don't be afraid," he mumbled. "They won't hurt you."

"Won't you get hantavirus by touching the nest?" I asked, concerned. "What if you die?"

Vincent turned to me, biting back a laugh. "It's okay, Sadie."

I frowned, nudging his shoulder with my finger. "Don't make fun."

He slowly moved the nest back into the bin, then rested it on a piece of wood. He placed a few random objects around the nest, the mice blanketed by darkness once again.

Vincent slowly rose to his height, letting out a moan when his leg cracked. "Man, I'm getting old."

"You should wash your hands," I suggested, glaring at his possibly infected hands.

Vincent jumped at me and I flinched, a loud scream erupting out of my mouth. "Stop!"

Vincent's deep laughter filled the room. "I'm kidding," he said breathlessly. "I wouldn't do that."

I rolled my eyes, though a profuse blush had set fire to my cheeks. "Not funny. You're just as annoying as Julia."

"I can be more annoying."

"You know what?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "You are old. You're like a grandpa."

I backed away just as he stepped toward me, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Say that again and I'll rub my hantavirus on you."

I screamed and aimed for the stairs, Vincent following after me, our laughter echoing amongst the large basement.