Out On a Limb(56)

“What about the swamp woman? Is she the dead princess? Does she have the sword of enlightenment? What happens next?” Sarah asks, eyes filled with desperation.

“I think we have an audience from here on out, lads,” Walter says, placing his dice in a small wooden box.

I yawn, stretching my arms over my head, and Bo tilts his chin up, winking at me—as if my yawn was a nonverbal cue to get everyone out. I hadn’t intended it to be, but I appreciate the concern.

“Walter, are you still okay to host next month?” Bo asks, making quick work of packing the table.

“Oh, well,” Caleb interjects, “maybe I could? Now that…” His voice trails off as he side-eyes his wife.

“Now that you’re not scared of your wife finding out?” Jer laughs out.

Caleb sighs. Poor guy can’t catch a break.

“Ooh! Please, can we?” Sarah asks, jumping up and down next to Caleb, shaking his chest. “I could bring out some of the Halloween decorations! We could have ale and themed snacks.”

“Fine by me,” Walter says, admiring my best friend fondly.

Caleb smiles, kissing his wife on the forehead. He moves to turn away from her, but Sarah grips his shirt and tugs him right back, pressing her lips to his. Then they make it weird. Sarah gasps into his mouth as Caleb’s hands wander a little too low on her back.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I say, stepping forward and pushing their shoulders apart. “That’s enough of that.”

“You know, Win,” Caleb says smugly, fixing his collar, “I think you were right.” He eyes Sarah’s ass as she walks over to talk to Bo, her limbs flailing as she recalls the battle. “Sarah is into this.”

“What have I done?” I ask myself, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Eventually, everyone makes their way outside. They commune every step of the way until Bo’s talking to them on the front step, probably freezing as he says another last goodbye.

“Those two aren’t going to make it out of the driveway,” Bo says, shutting the door. I peek out the window to see Caleb and Sarah practically dry humping on the hood of Caleb’s car.

“This is what I get for snitching, I guess. If the neighbours complain, I’ll take responsibility.” I lower into the armchair, and Bo seems to recorrect his path toward his dining room once he notices. He sits on the arm of the couch and begins rubbing his thigh, wincing slightly as he wraps both hands around where his prosthesis begins.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah, fine. It’s just a little tight right now. The volume of my stump changes throughout the day. I can change the sock I wear underneath to help, but I didn’t get a chance. Might as well wait for bed now.”

I haven’t seen Bo without his prosthesis on yet. I’ve wondered, since a quick google search told me that it was good to go without it when possible, to let everything breathe. Especially since he mentioned in passing once that his new prosthesis, resized to fit and suit him better, was coming at the end of March. He called it a belated birthday present.

“You never have to wear it for my benefit, you know. If it’s uncomfortable…”

“No? It won’t freak you out to see me hobbling around the house?” The corner of his lip rises, but his eyes give him away. A hint of hesitation, a twitch of concern.

“Not at all,” I answer. “Of course not,” I add, firmly.

He nods, but he doesn’t move to take it off. “So…” Bo says in that familiar tone of let’s talk about something else. “Sarah seemed to get on board with DND fast.”

“I bet she’s going to say some real unhinged shit in bed tonight,” I say, grimacing.

Bo huffs a laugh, turning sideways to fall backward onto the couch with a grunt, spreading all four limbs across it. I instantly envision myself lying on top of him, the way his body could cocoon around mine so easily, and have to blink to erase it from my mind. “I’d pay good money to hear some Dungeon and Dragons themed dirty talk,” he says with a crooked smile.

“Sarah reads some filthy books—it’ll be creative, if haunting.”

“She did seem to get a kick out of him saving that barkeep,” Bo says, flashing his eyes.

“Oh yeah, she called him a hero.”

Bo laughs, his throat bobbing. “There was a side-quest in October where Caleb had to flirt with a witch to get her to—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“No, no, no… You have to tell me.” My smile bursts wide. “Please, I need to know.”

“You have to swear to me you won’t tell him I told you or tell Sarah, because there’s a decorum to these things—I can’t be caught talking shit.”

“I promise!” I mean it this time.

“He said…” Bo’s laugh is near uncontrollable, shaking his entire upper body, his hands bouncing as they rest above his abdomen. He tries to complete his sentence a few times, but his voice fails each time as laughter overtakes him.

“Spit it out, man!”

“He looked me dead in the fucking eyes and said the words, ‘not even King Arthur could pull me out of you.’”

“No!” I squeal, my hand shooting up to my mouth.

“Not even King Arthur himself…” Bo says, his face turning red as he struggles to catch his breath.