Chapter 2Two days later, on Saturday, a delivery arrived: three pumpkin-spice candles, a paperback copy of The History of Silver Age Superheroes, a zucchini, and a loaf of raspberry wheat bread. None of these had been on the shopping list tacked to the fridge, except Finn’s zucchini, which had a muffin-related destiny.
Wes, who’d answered the door and opened the package, considered this fact. “I’m not sure you’re allowed to buy things without me.”
Finn gave him a sorrowful-kitten look. Wes knew that look. He gave in to that look just about every time.
“Is this what living with you is like? It is, isn’t it? Not,” he added hastily, “that I mind.”
He didn’t. Not at all. This house had room for their combined eclectic library; Wes’s organized desk and an old guitar from his wayward college
