“True. Because my boyfriend is accommodating like that.” Rhett’s voice was casual, but I didn’t miss the way Troy’s eyes widened slightly at the label, or the pleased flush that spread across his face before he quickly masked it.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a saint,” Troy said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the hallway. “Come see your five-star accommodations.”
“She barely ate her food!” Rhett protested.
“It was delicious, but I’m not that hungry. Nervous stomach, I guess. Sorry to waste it.”
Rhett snorted. “With Troy in the house, food is never wasted.”
“He’s lying. He eats even more than me. Your leftovers will be gone before you even come back into the kitchen.”
I let myself be led through their apartment, feeling oddly light despite the weight of the day. There was something so normal about their bickering, so comforting about the way they moved around each other with easy familiarity.
Troy’s room was neater than I’d expected, with a queen-sized bed covered in a dark blue comforter. A few framed photos sat on the dresser—most featuring Troy with various combinations of his enormous family, a couple with him and Rhett at what looked like fire department events.
“I’m putting clean sheets on,” Troy announced, stripping the bed with efficient movements. “These are probably fine, but you deserve the good sheets.”
“The ones with the really high thread count,” Rhett agreed, appearing in the doorway with Cheeto in his arms. The orange kitten was purring loudly, little paws kneading at Rhett’s forearm. “I’ll bring Olive in too. Kittens are scientifically proven to be the best therapy.”
“Is that so?” I asked, unable to stop my smile as Cheeto wiggled free and bounded over to investigate my feet.
“Absolutely,” Rhett nodded seriously. “I read an article on some website.”
I bent down to scoop up the kitten, who immediately started exploring my shoulder with curious paws. “Well, if some website says so.”
Troy reappeared with fresh sheets and proceeded to make the bed with military precision, smoothing out every wrinkle with exaggerated care. “Hospital corners,” he explained when he caught me watching. “My mom was serious about bed-making.”
“One of ten kids and she still had time to teach you that?” I asked, genuinely impressed.
“When you’ve got that many kids, you find ways to make them useful,” Troy shrugged. “Marcus got dishes duty. I got laundry and beds.”
Rhett returned with Olive, the gray tabby looking regal in his massive hands. “Here’s the princess. She’s more particular than her brother, but she’ll warm up to you.”
As if to prove him wrong, Olive immediately leapt from his hands onto the freshly made bed and curled into a tiny ball in the center of the pillow.
“Betrayed by my own cat,” Rhett gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.
Troy finished with the bed and stepped back to admire his work. “Perfect. Now for the final touch.” He grabbed the comforter and held it open. “In you go, princess.”
I raised an eyebrow but climbed onto the bed, careful not to disturb Olive. Troy immediately wrapped the comforter around me, tucking it under my sides and feet until I was completely immobilized.
“Troy, what the hell—”
“It’s the burrito treatment,” he said proudly. “Guaranteed to ward off nightmares and snake thoughts.”
“I can’t move my arms,” I pointed out.
“That’s the point. Maximum security.”
Rhett sat on the edge of the bed, depositing Cheeto on my blanket-covered stomach. “You can have the kittens until their dinnertime,” he said. “They’ll protect you.”
“From what? Bad dreams?” I asked as Cheeto immediately started climbing the burrito mountain that was me.
“From anything,” Rhett said with surprising seriousness. “They’re fierce hunters.” He paused, then added, “Though I’m pretty sure they’d run from snakes. Smart kitties.”
“You two are ridiculous,” I said, but there was no heat in it. Just gratitude and something deeper, warmer, that I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
“Get some rest,” Troy said, his hand lingering on my shoulder. “We’ll be right out there if you need anything.”
