Perhaps she could let in some light, too, by taking down the heavy curtains and cleaning them. It might make the time pass faster and keep her spirits up if there was more light in the building.
She understood why Roan kept the tavern dim. It made the tavern warm and cozy, welcoming in ways that it wouldn’t be with the sunlight streaming in.
But she did miss the sunshine when she was in the main room.
Fortunately, her kitchen had large windows, and she’d never closed the curtains on them. She stopped at the sink and raised her face to the light, taking a deep breath. Today was going to be a good day.
The tea kettle began steaming, and she quickly prepared tea and oatmeal before loading a tray and making her way to Roan’s office. Would he be awake this early? She rarely came in this close to dawn, but she didn’t know what his habits were.
She would knock, and if he didn’t answer, she’d leave the tray for him.
Her stomach felt odd as she approached his office. She’d never felt this uncomfortable before, but then again, it wasn’t every day her employer covered her with a blanket while she slept.
It was perfectly normal for her to feel odd about that.
She knocked and waited for him to call, “Enter,” in a rough voice before she did so. She balanced the tray on her hip to open the door, and when she entered the room, she looked around before finally spotting him.
He was lying on the floor, his head resting on Beastie’s side, his hair tousled and his clothing wrinkled.
“I brought you breakfast,” she said, glancing away from him. It felt improper to see him in this way, even if he’d seen her in a similar state.
He had no blanket, and the fact that he’d given it to her made warmth fill her chest.
Had anyone ever done anything like that for her before?
At least he had Beastie to snuggle with.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would still be sleeping,” she said as she set the tray on his desk.
“I don’t normally sleep this late,” he admitted as he sat up. “I suppose the effects of being knocked out yesterday caught up to me.”
“Do you feel well?” she asked, hurrying over and taking his face in her hands to inspect his eyes. “I should have thought to look at you for side effects. I apologize for not thinking of it.”
Roan seemed flustered by her nearness, and after seeing that his eyes looked normal, she took a step back. “I apologize. I ought not to have been so forward,” she said, a blush spreading across her cheeks. This situation was so odd.
“No apology necessary. Are you trained in healing?” Roan asked.
Abigail stood and reached for the bowl of oatmeal, handing it to him before sitting back down on the floor, a safe distance away from him. “I learned a few things from one of the women I grew up with. One of the things was that after someone hits their head, you should check their eyes to make sure they look the same.”
“And what do you do if one is different?” Roan asked dryly, putting his spoon into the oatmeal, but not eating anything.
“Make them rest,” she said. “Lots of water and rest. Soup can be helpful, too.”
“And soup fixes an eye?” he asked, his eyebrows quirking in disbelief.
Abigail laughed. “Soup fixes everything.”
“If you say so.” His tone remained dry, but there was a lightness to him that she was not used to. Was it almost a smile?
This was too strange.
“Come on, Beastie. You want to go outside?” she asked, suddenly desperate to escape. Beastie scrambled to her feet and followed Abigail toward the kitchen, where she let her out into the back garden.
Soup could fix most things, but it couldn’t fix the awkwardness that had sprung up the moment she’d run away.
The curtains were disgusting.
Abigail eyed them, chewing on her lower lip as she took a deep breath.
