“It takes time to get good at cooking.” My still-unsettled stomach declares itself full, and I force down one last bite before setting my sandwich back on the plate. “Sorry,” I add, “but I’m just not that hungry. It has nothing to do with the food.”
Concern darkens his gaze. “How are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous? Sensitivity to light? Severe pain?”
“Just a headache, mostly. My stomach’s a little off, but I think that’s partly the stress. And I’m tired. But I didn’t sleep well last night. I?—”
Stop. He doesn’t need to know how I slept.
“I’m sorry I had to keep texting you. But it was that or come over in person. And I didn’t really think you’d appreciate my showing up at your door at three AM.”
At three AM, honestly, I don’t think I’d have minded.
“It’s fine.” I wave off his concern. “But.”
He spins his stool so he’s facing me. “But?”
“I guess… I was wondering if I could look around the building? Instead of just staying in the apartment? It’s nice and all. But it feels kind of strange. Not really knowing where I am.”
Indy frowns. After a brief hesitation, he says, “With your concussion, rest is really the best treatment. But I can understand why you’d want to look around.”
“Can I? Would that be okay? Or do I have to stay in here?”
He sets his nearly finished sandwich down. “You’re not a prisoner here, Bea. You can go anywhere on the property you want. I didn’t offer to take you around yesterday because you’d just woken up.” He pauses to think. “But if you want a quick tour today, we could do that. Not outside, not until you’ve had more time to rest, but I could show you around the house.”
“The house? I thought it was your company headquarters?”
Indy slides off his stool and picks up the remnants of our sandwiches, then rounds the counter to drop them into the trash in the corner of the room. He comes back to me and helps me off the stool, resting his hand on my back until I’m steady. “It’s a houseandour headquarters,” he replies. As he leads me towards the front door, he adds, “We wanted something that wouldn’t look like a business. So we found a half-finished estate that we could turn into what we needed.”
At the door, he stops to look at me. Concern is still worked into his features. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Bea? It’s only been a couple of days?—”
“Physical activity is good when you’re recovering from a concussion. Not vigorous activity, but walking is okay.”
With a small sigh, he opens the door. “Okay. But we’re going to take it slow. And if you feel dizzy or tired, you tell me right away.”
Looking into his worried gaze, more of my anger ebbs away. Not entirely, but it’s really hard to be mad at Indy when he’s going out of his way to make sure I’m okay.
And those sad little breakfast sandwiches didn’t hurt, either.
“I’ll tell you,” I promise. “So. What about the house? Or the estate?”
“It’s eight thousand square feet,” he replies. “On thirteen acres outside Newberg, which is about forty minutes from Portland. Close enough to get to the airport quickly, but remote enough for the privacy we want.”
We take a left from my apartment to head down a hallway lined with doors on either side. “Eight thousand square feet is pretty big, isn’t it?” Compared to my eight-hundred square foot apartment in DC, it sounds enormous, really.
“Yeah.” Indy’s hand grazes my back as we walk, setting tiny sparks of electricity off across my skin.
Which means nothing. It’s probably just lingering adrenaline. Or stress.
“The previous owner wanted to turn it into a small ranch,” Indy continues. “Not a working one. I think they call them a gentleman’s ranch, or something like that. But he changed his mind halfway through. So we—well, Blade and Arrow—made an offer to buy it as is. It meant several months of renovations, but it was worth it.”
I glance at one of the doors as we pass. A cheerful Christmas wreath still hangs from a hook on the front of it, all decked in red ribbons and pinecones and silver jingle bells. Indy follows my gaze and chuckles. “That’s Webb’s apartment. Eden put wreaths on all our doors, but Webb’s the only one who hasn’t gotten around to taking his down yet.”
“That was nice of her.”
Eden stopped by yesterday evening to re-introduce herself, of sorts. I’d met her a couple times—briefly—when Indy first started seeing me for therapy. But it was nice to hear from her about Blade and Arrow, how they’d helped her when she was in trouble, and that she trusted them all with her life. “I knowit’s scary,” she told me, “but you can trust them. Indy’s got the biggest heart, though he’d never let on. Rafe… well, he’s just amazing. And Ace, Tyler, and Webb? You’ll like them, too. It won’t be that bad being here, I promise.”
“Eden’s the one who’s taken charge of decorating,” Indy says. “And with Christmas… she really went all out.” Affection softens his features. “It made her happy. And that was nice to see.”
From the tone of his voice, I can tell there’s a story there. I got my first hint of it last night talking to Eden, and now with Indy…
