"Mm."
"You don't have to know who you are tonight. You just got here."
He's quiet. His breathing slows. His hand on my chest stops moving, then starts again, then stops.
"When Toby told me about his first days here," he says. "He said he let the pride take care of him. That accepting care isn't weakness. I've been thinking about that for days."
"And?"
"And I'm lying in your bed in your building with your lion purring against my back and I'm not counting exits." A pause. "I think this is what accepting care feels like. I think this is the part I didn't know how to do."
I tighten my arm around him. Pull him closer. The bed is too small and the mattress is terrible and there's a spring poking my left kidney and I have never been more comfortable in my life.
"Stay," he says. The same word from the hotel room, except now the context is reversed. He's not asking me to stay in his space. He's asking me to stay in mine. To keep him in the place I live. To let this be where he sleeps.
"I'm not going anywhere," I say. "This is my room."
"Not this room. The other room. Your room. Tomorrow."
"Nico. You've been here one night."
"I've been here fourteen days. I just slept somewhere else for the first thirteen."
Something fundamental shifts in my chest. Not the lion — the man. The part of me that's been alone in this building for years, doing books and feeding cats and watching everyone else find someone and telling myself the spreadsheets were enough.
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."
"That's still your answer for everything."
"Because it keeps being true. And because right now I'm exactly where I want to be and I'd like to stop talking about logistics."
"I don't stop talking about logistics. That's the other thing about me."
"I know. It's—"
"If you say endearing I'm going to smother you with this pillow."
"I was going to say annoying."
"That's worse."
"No, it's not." I kiss his hair. "Go to sleep, Nico."
"Knox definitely heard all of that."
"Knox heard everything. So did Silas."
"How do you feel about that?"
I think about it. Knox in his room with Toby, hearing his pride member with someone for the first time. Silas in his room, turning a page, absorbing the information without comment. The thin walls of a building that was never designed for privacy and has never pretended to offer it.
"They're going to know," I say. "And they're not going to say anything. And at breakfast Knox is going to drink his coffee and look at me once and that's going to be the whole conversation."
"One look."
"He's very efficient with his looks."
"I've noticed." He's quiet for a moment. Then: "Ezra."
