By the time the bowl was empty he was half-asleep, his protests getting quieter and less coherent.
"Vee," he mumbled as I tucked the blanket around him.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for the soup. And the tyranny."
I smiled and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Anytime."
The memory is sweet. The memory hurts.
Warm memories are harder to carry than bad ones. Bad memories I can be angry at. I can use them as fuel, justify the distance. Warm memories just hurt.
I blink and I'm back in the kitchen, the broth still simmering, my hands wrapped around a mug of tea that's gone cold.
Malcolm is still at the table, frowning at the laptop screen.
A hand appears and replaces my cold mug with a fresh hot one.
I look up.
Rhys is already turning back toward the counter, like it was nothing, like he just does this, that this is just a thing that happens.
My lips quirk, a small smile forming before I can question it.
I wrap my hands around the fresh mug and don't say anything.
I check on Finn around three. He's sleeping, his color better than it was this morning. I leave fresh water on his nightstand and close the door behind me.
When I come back downstairs, Malcolm has moved to the couch with a book. I get comfortable on the floor with my back against his legs and pick up the novel I left on the coffee table yesterday.
He doesn't say anything. Doesn't ask if I need a chair or why I'm choosing the floor. Just lets me be there.
Across the room, Rhys is in the armchair. He has no book, no phone. He's just sitting, one ankle crossed over his knee, looking at nothing in particular. Comfortable with the quiet like he always is.
He glances at me on the floor.
I glance back.
He looks away first. Back to the middle distance.
I read three pages before I realize I haven't absorbed a single word. My mind is somewhere else. Somewhere sticky and uncomfortable.
Malcolm's hand settles on my shoulder. Just rests there, warm and solid. The weight of it anchors me.
After a moment he moves it back to his book.
The weight stays.
His touch seems to know exactly what I need before I do. I wonder how deep this connection runs between us. This sort of limbo bond. Connected, but not concrete.
My mind drifts. I wonder if they bonded Marie into the pack during her heat. Ragon had already submitted the registration paperwork. They're probably celebrating being an official pack now, the four of them. I wonder how long Jasper will stay. I know he’s there to keep Ragon off my trail for now, but if Ragon decides he doesn’t want me anymore now that he’s got Marie, maybe Jasper will go home.
Another memory surfaces without permission. Recent. Raw.
I was sick. A fever. Just a few weeks after Marie arrived.
I'd been lying in bed feeling like my skin was too tight and my bones ached and I couldn't get comfortable no matter how I shifted.
