Free Where Nerves End by L. A. Witt Page A

curb had a car parked in front of it. Later in the day, Id fire up the grill and pay everyone with steak and beer, but for now, there was work to do.
    I reached for a box, but Michael caught my arm.
    “Dont even think about it.” His expression invited no arguments.
I put up my hands. “Ill just, um, supervise.”
He smiled, and I pretended a shiver hadnt just worked its way up my back.
“Excellent,” Michael said. “Someone needs to keep an eye on all this riffraff.”
“Hey!” Seths voice turned both our heads. “I heard that.”
“Speak of the devil,” Michael said with a grin.
“Yeah, whatever.” Seth flipped him off. “Fuck you.”
Along with everyone else wed brought over, Seth and Michael got to work unloading everything while I stood back and tried to find something I could do. I hated feeling useless, but there wasnt much I could do unless I wanted to be in agony later. So, I supervised. At least I had the decency to refrain from lounging in a lawn chair with a beer and sunglasses, though it was temping to do that if only to mess with Seth.
I glanced around the cul de sac. Curtains moved aside, faces peered out windows, and I was surprised I couldnt hear the frantic gossiping going on as boxes and furniture made their way from the truck into the house. Edna and Kristine stood on their respective sides of the waist-high fence between their properties, their eyes as big as saucers as they talked behind their hands. Marti was on her phone on her front porch, attention focused on all the activity in my driveway. Someone was moving in, that was for sure, but who? Which of those men wandering in and out of the garage with boxes and furniture?
Jesus. With the way everyone watched and talked, you wouldve thought the simple U-Haul in the driveway was a rainbow beacon of glittering gayness invading their quiet suburban neighborhood. Not that I was surprised. Everyone had watched intently when a similar truck came to collect Wes and his belongings. I was endlessly amused at the reactions—running the gamut from relieved to openly disappointed—when people found out I still lived here.
Laughing to myself, I turned away from the gawking neighbors and watched a couple of the guys moving a small bed frame down the ramp. Dylans, I assumed.
Seth came out of the house and paused to wipe his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “So did you guys deliberately schedule this on the hottest day of the year?”
“Hottest day?” I laughed. “Please. Were barely out of winter. Just be glad we didnt wait until August.”
“Im surprised you didnt,” Seth muttered. “Just to be dicks.”
“We thought about it.” Michael clapped his shoulder. “Picked a hot day just to make you miserable, Wheeler.” He grinned. “Mission accomplished, yes?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, Doc.” Seth threw him a suspicious glare. “This is a ploy to get me back into your office, isnt it?”
“Of course,” Michael said with a flippant shrug.
“And all of this so you can live with this yoyo.” Seth pointed his thumb at me. “You have any idea what youre getting into?”
Michael laughed. “I think Ill manage.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Seth looked at me. “You going to help carry anything, or what?”
“Nope.” I put up my hands. “Doctors orders.”
“Its true,” Michael said. “He picks anything up that weighs more than ten pounds, therell be hell to pay.”
Seth laughed. “Well, shit. I want to see the „hell to pay part, so Jason, why dont you—”
“You paying for his acupuncture?” Michael threw him a pointed look.
“Uh, no.” Seth turned to me. “On second thought, why dont you take it easy?”
“Planning on it.” I grinned. “As for you, how about less jawing, more picking shit up and carrying it?”
Seth muttered something under his breath about heat and slave labor. Then he peeled off his sweaty T-shirt and draped it over the porch railing. Clasping his fingers over his head and stretching, he