His smile falters, slips. “Kenny...,”
I search his face, my back stiffening. “I want to know. I’m your… your mate. Don’t lie.”
“I’m not going to.” He lets out a soft sigh. “But I want you to understand that you’re our priority. You’re always going to be. And we can live with my choices, but we could never have lived with losingyou. None of us could.”
I know what the prices are at the Center. I saw the paperwork. “Theo used his college fund, didn’t he?”
Oscar’s lips press together, his body tensing. It’s confirmation enough.
“All of you. You all paid.” He’s been working nights, spending his days with me. “When do yousleep, Oz?”
“I sleep.” He reaches for his headset again. “I have to log back on. But this isn’t something you need to worry about, okay?”
I study him more closely this time. The darkness beneath his eyes makes sense now. But he doesn’t pause in his work, taking calls and handling complaints with an ease that tells me he’s barely touching his brain.
Slowly, I settle back against him. Someone on the phone starts to shout, and irritation gathers at the back of my throat. At my slow snarl, he glances down, a smile tugging his lips before he presses his finger against my own. Amusement fills his face.
Rolling my eyes, I sneak my hand around to his neck, my nails gently scratching at the skin. He shifts, his head falling back with a quiet groan before his eyes fly open. “Apologies. Could you repeat that?”
I spend the night curled up in his lap, listening to his voice rumble beneath my ear. Falling asleep to the low timbre of his words, the touch of his fingers against my hair.
And when I sleep, there are no dreams.
It might be the best sleep I’ve ever had.
Theo
Iglancethroughtheopendoorway on my way downstairs the next morning.
Oscar’s steady breathing reaches my ears. He’s sprawled out on his back with Kenny curled up on top of him, one arm wrapped around her and the other containing his headset, precariously dangling from his finger a foot or so from the floor.
Biting my cheek, I slip inside and loosen the headset from his hand, setting it on his bedside table. Then his glasses. He doesn’t even move.
He looks like he’s resting better than he has in months. Closing the door quietly, I head down, catching Jake and Max on their way out.
Jake hesitates. “You think she’ll be okay? I can call in. They’ll understand.”
But I know he’s worried about his job, too. “Go. I’ll call if there’s anything. They both seem pretty out of it anyway. She needs the rest.”
Max studies me. “And you?”
“I’m fine.” My smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes, but I try. “See you later.”
This is a routine I know by heart. Kitchen first, although Oz scrubbed it to within an inch of his life last night. I make my way around the house, avoiding Oscar’s room in case I wake them but collecting laundry from everywhere else.
I frown at the bags beside the front door. Kenny hasn’t touched them.
“Theo?”
I jolt at the murmur of my name, almost sure I imagined it until I turn. Kenny watches me cautiously from the bottom of the stairs. Her legs are bare, her hair wild and trailing. She’s borrowed one of Oscar’s shirts. The white cotton doesn’t fully hide her scars, the faint lines of black visible beneath the material. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty well, actually.” Her hand raises, trying and failing to tuck her hair back. “But… I realized I don’t have any stuff. I should probably go to the trailer. I had cases there.”
She frowns. “Did they… did you get them?”
I nod. “We put everything in your room. The things we were allowed to bring went to the Center.”
“Right.”
