“God, yes.”
He smiles, some of the strain easing from his expression. “Good. Chris really did do something amazing with this chicken.”
I watch him work, efficient and competent. Nikita has relocated to the windowsill, no longer interested in supervision now that the humans have everything handled.
Chris doesn’t come back. Not while Wyatt plates the food, not while he sets it down at the table, not while I take the first bite and make an involuntary sound of appreciation because holy hell, it really is incredible.
“Right?” Wyatt says, grinning. “Man’s been holding out on us.”
“Apparently.”
We eat in comfortable silence. The food settles heavy and good in my stomach, pushing back the lingering nausea from anesthesia. Wyatt’s presence across from me is steady, undemanding. Just there.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For today. For all of it.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I want to.”
He reaches across, squeezes my hand. “Then you’re welcome.”
My eyes are getting heavy again, the post-meal drowsiness combining with whatever’s still in my system. Wyatt sees it, stands.
“Back to bed with you.”
“I can walk.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean you have to.”
He helps me up anyway, guides me down the hall. Nikita materializes from somewhere, racing ahead to claim her spot on my bed first.
“Bossy thing,” I murmur.
“You’re rubbing off on her.”
I’m asleep before I can form a response.
Thirst pulls me awake. My mouth is desert-dry, tongue stuck to my palate. The bedside glass is empty—I must have drained it earlier without realizing.
I check my phone. 2:47 AM.
Carefully, testing each movement, I ease out of bed. Nikita grumbles but doesn’t fully wake. The house is dark except for the nightlight in the hallway, and I move toward the kitchen by memory and dim illumination.
Voices stop me halfway there. Low and male and coming from the living room.
I should announce myself. Should not eavesdrop on a private conversation.
I stay in the shadows and listen.
“—can’t keep avoiding it forever,” Wyatt’s saying.
“I’m not avoiding anything.” Chris’s voice, defensive.
“You literally left the room when she asked about Mexico.”
A long pause. “There are things I can’t talk about.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
