Beauty has never been a category I found useful.
But Elliot's face softens when he looks at it, and that makes it worth noting.
The cottage is warmer than I remember.
Briar has stocked it well: food in the kitchen, medical supplies in the bathroom, clean sheets on the beds. A fire crackles in the hearth, filling the main room with the scent of burning pine.
Landon immediately commandeers the kitchen, pulling out ingredients I don't recognize and muttering about proper nutrition and recovery diets. Jinx disappears upstairs to set up surveillance equipment on the perimeter.
Briar pulls me aside while Elliot settles onto the couch by the fire.
"Jagger sent an update," he says quietly. "Webb's story is holding, but barely. Helena Cross has been asking questions. She suspects something's off."
"Cross is Design. Your territory."
"Former territory. But yes, I still have contacts there." Briar glances toward Elliot, then back to me. "She's not our enemy. She never liked Webb's methods. If we can bring her in—"
"Later." I cut him off, not harshly. "Right now, I need to focus on him."
Briar studies me for a moment. Whatever he sees makes him nod.
"He needs rest," he says. "Real rest. Not the half-conscious dozing he's been doing in the car."
"I know."
"There's a bathtub. Hot water. Clean clothes in the dresser." He pauses. "Take care of him, Jace. Everything else can wait."
I don't know how to respond to the gentleness in his voice. It feels foreign, like a language I never learned.
"Thank you," I say finally. "For all of this."
"Thank me when we've won." He claps a hand on my shoulder and moves toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with Elliot.
He's standing by the fire, hands extended toward the flames, face painted in warm light. The bruises stand out against his pale skin. His borrowed clothes hang loose on a frame that's lost too much weight.
He looks fragile. Breakable.
But his spine is straight, and when he turns to face me, his eyes are clear.
"I want a bath," he says. "A real one. With hot water and soap that doesn't smell like a hospital."
"I can arrange that."
"Will you stay? While I—" He stops. Swallows. "I don't want to be alone. Not yet."
The vulnerability in his voice cuts through every defense I have.
"I'll stay," I say. "As long as you need."
I run the water hot, testing it with my fingers until the temperature is right. Steam fills the room, fogging the mirror, softening the harsh edges of the tile.
Elliot stands in the doorway.
"Come on. Get naked. Let’s get you clean.”
He considers this. Then he crosses the threshold, closes the door behind him, and starts to undress.
I've seen his body before. I've loved every inch of it, mapped the scars and marks and imperfections. But watching him peel away the layers now, in the steam and the quiet, feels different.
