The Lights on Knockbridge Lane (Garnet Run 3)

He cooed to her and she stayed in his cupped palm. Adam focused on Wes’ face, pretending his hand didn’t even exist.

From across the room, as if he could feel Adam’s gaze on his face, Wes’ eyes snapped to his.

Wes’ expression was subtler than Gus’, but Adam saw in his clean, rough features the same joy, the same excitement, and the same desire to share that fascination with others.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

The children asked questions and Wes answered every one. He told them what Bettie ate, when she slept, and if she spun webs. When he told them that tarantulas shot silk from their feet, one of the boys called, “She’s like Spiderman!” and Wes said, “Spiderman’s like her.” The boy looked like his mind had been blown.

For all their fascination with Bettie, the kids were clearly nervous when Wes asked if anyone wanted to touch or hold Bettie. No one raised their hand. Gus held out her cupped palms and Wes placed Bettie into them.

Once they’d seen Gus touch Bettie and live to tell the tale, another girl’s hand went up, and Gus put the tarantula into her palm very carefully. “Don’t move, even when she moves,” Gus told her seriously, as Wes had once told her.

Once everyone who wanted to had held or touched Bettie, under Gus’ watchful eye, Ms. Washington called an end to show-and-tell. The class applauded and Gus stood, grinning from ear to ear.

As Wes and Adam walked out of the classroom and through the empty hallways, Adam touched Wes’ arm, the wool of his sweater as soft as he’d imagined.

“Thank you,” Adam said. “Thank you so much for doing this. It meant the world to Gus. And to me.”

Wes looked down at Adam and seemed at a loss for words. Clearly the experience in the classroom had meant something to him.

“They weren’t scared of her,” he said.

“Kids are brave. They mostly haven’t learned to be afraid of things yet.”

The lucky ones, anyway. The ones who didn’t have fear fed to them at home, where fear should never be.

“Like you said. I think we learn to be scared and then once we’re scared we hate the things we fear because it’s easier than working on our fear.”

Wes glanced at Bettie’s cage, once more covered with the pillowcase.

Adam reached over and very slowly, breathing deeply to ground himself, pulled the fabric away.

He felt his heart start to beat faster, Bettie’s movements triggering a long-held disgust deep within him. He let his eyes go a bit unfocused so he could see her through a haze. This was Bettie. Wes’ beloved pet. She was an animal, like a cat or a squirrel.

He watched her for a few moments, and thought neutral thoughts about her. He didn’t even notice he’d stepped back until Wes moved to put the pillowcase back over the cage.

Wes’ blue eyes were warm and soft and he stepped toward Adam.

Adam’s heart was beating fast now for an entirely un-spider-related reason. Wes’ mouth looked lush and soft and his shaved hair looked like velvet.

Wes pressed one broad shoulder into Adam’s and said solemnly, “Thank you.”

Chapter Eight

Wes

“You did what?!” His friend’s voice was at least an octave higher than usual. Wes had just told Zachary about Gus’ show-and-tell. “But you mean an actual, human child?”

“Yes, a Homo sapiens child.”

Zachary snorted. His friend was one of the only people who could tell when he was joking.

Zachary only lived four miles away, but they mostly spoke on the phone or via chat. Once in a while, Zachary would FaceTime him to show him something, but he didn’t seem to mind that Wes preferred they never meet in person.

“How did the Halloween decorating go?” Wes asked, realizing Halloween had come and gone without his notice.

“Excellent. I won. Obviously.”

Zachary lived on Casper Road, and every year the residents competed in a neighborhood Halloween decorating contest. Kids from all around the county went there and trick-or-treated. Zachary took it extremely seriously, not caring about the children or the neighborhood—only about the trophy that was bestowed on the house with the best decorations.

He’d won every year he had lived on Casper Road and approached the Halloween season with all the planning and dedication with which he approached his architectural blueprints—if a bit more of a competitive spirit.

“Congratulations. I’m sure you terrified the human children.”

“Oh, to be sure.” Wes could hear the smile in his voice. “And I’m already planning for next year. It’s going to be truly epic.”

“I can do lighting,” Wes offered absently.

In the past he’d created some eerily glowing effects for Zachary’s windows.

“Definitely.”

Zachary began to outline his plans for the next year’s decorations, and Wes tuned out as he checked the biogas generator. It was an accepted tenet of their friendship that both of them had free rein to wax enthusiastic about their niche pursuits, and either of them were welcome to stop listening when they lost interest. It worked for them.