“Did they give you any idea how long your nose would take to stop doing the snot thing?”
Shaking his head, he tried breathing through his nose and grimaced when that ended up with snot going into his mouth. Remembering how sick stuff like that made me, he held his hand up and turned away again to do whatever he had to do. A six foot three inch tall man blowing his snotty nose was still as gross as a kid doing, and I’d argue my ass off if anyone said otherwise.
Enough. I couldn’t stand and watch this for much longer, or I’d throw up. Head colds were torture for me because of this, and when we were at school, I’d had to leave to be sick when someone had one a lot. Don’t even get me started on when I had one myself. It was pure hell! I liked to think I’d outgrown it, but this was proof I hadn’t.
Glaring at the front door, I made my choice. “Okay, I’m going to do it. I can do it.”
A large hand gripped my shoulder comfortingly and also gave me strength. “Wand me do comed wid you?”
Glancing over it, I smiled gratefully at him. “Would you mind? I’ll understand if you’re not up to it.”
Pointing at the pink glasses still on his face, he shook his head. “I’m good, dese help.” Then, looking around us, he frowned. “Where’d Doyle?”
Smirking at how much Pops’ dog hated him, I winked. “He’s at home with Mom and Dad, so you’re safe. I didn’t want to upset him by bringing him here just yet.”
When he rolled his eyes, I squared my shoulders and walked up to the door, and somehow managed to get the key into the lock even with a shaking hand.
The smell of him and a million memories of being here with Pops hit me at once, and it was like losing him all over again. I felt pain and happiness, and like I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
None of it felt real, even the funeral.
I just wanted him back, and it sucked that it’d never happen.
Only just holding back the tears, I walked into the living room and saw his chair, the one he’d sat in since way before I was born. The cushion had the two indentatio
ns in it from his ass cheeks, his book was still on the floor where it’d fallen when he’d had the heart attack, and his empty mug was on the end table with his glasses next to it. It was like he’d just left it, not like he’d been gone for almost two weeks.
“How—” I croaked, reaching up to rub my throat. “How am I meant to live here?”
Hearing Logan blow his nose again, I almost laughed. “You hold ondo da memories, and you creade newd ones.”
“Nude or new?”
“Dew.”
“I always wanted him to tear down the wood paneling from the walls. There’s even some on the ceilings in a couple of rooms. I hate it,” I whispered. “I also don’t like the dark red in this room or the bright yellow in the bathrooms. The old appliances in the kitchen need to be updated…” I stopped and thought about it. “The whole kitchen needs to be updated if I’m honest. I just don’t know if I can.”
I was overwhelmed by it all, but then he offered, “I can’d help’d you.”
“Where do I start?”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward the glass doors that led out to the large yard at the back. “We go droo id droom by droom and make a lisd.”
So that’s what we did. We went through each room in the house apart from his bedroom, listing what needed to be changed. I knew this was what Pops wanted me to do, so I pushed down how uncomfortable and wrong it felt and went with it.
If I took it on one room at a time, it might make it easier. But I couldn’t touch his bedroom yet. I wasn’t ready for that.
What made it easier was that Logan never let go of my hand once. It was strange, and it didn’t feel like it used to, but something about it helped keep me sane.
We had a long list of stuff to do by the end, and my eyes were almost watering at how expensive it was going to be. I was going to turn part of the basement into a laundry room and just redecorate the rest of it once the wooden paneling was down. I had a preference for light colors, so I was going to paint the whole house white.
I wanted to restore the old fireplace in the front parlor and keep a lot of the original features, but I kind of just wanted it all to be a blank slate that I could add to when I decided on things.
Something else had happened while we were doing it all: Logan’s eyes and nose had stopped running as badly, so he was back to talking normally and not sniffing or blowing his nose constantly. He still sounded nasal and was wearing the sunglasses, but I was relieved I didn’t have to hear any more snot production in his sinus farm.
Sitting down on the couch in the living room, I nodded once, my decision made. “Okay, so, rip shit out, paint it all white, get rid of stuff I don’t want to keep, make a list of shit I want to restore, and then separate the work I can—”
“We can,” Logan interrupted, passing me a beer from the fridge with a discreet sniff. My parents had cleared out the food, but I knew for a fact the booze would still be in there and in the freezer. “I’ll help as much as I can, your parents will, too, and so will mine. This house is yours, and we all want you to feel comfortable in it.”