“Don't let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
The doorbell rang before I could come up with a response. Declan got up to answer it and I heard Mara's voice before I saw her.
“If he's not dressed, I'm turning around and leaving.”
“He's dressed,” Declan called back.
“Shame. I brought food and opinions.”
She walked into the living room carrying enough bags to feed a small army. Her eyes landed on me and she gave me that assessing look that said she was cataloging every injury and deciding whether or not I was allowed to live.
“You look less dead than I expected,” she said finally.
“Thanks. I worked really hard on that.”
“I can tell. Very convincing.” She started unpacking food onto the coffee table with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a hundred times before. “Declan, your kitchen is a disaster. How do you live like this?”
“It's not that bad,” Declan said.
“You have three different kinds of protein powder and no actual food. That's the definition of bad.”
“I have food.”
“Coffee and whatever Troy brings you doesn't count.”
I snorted. “She's got you there.”
“I'm not taking criticism from someone who lived on energy drinks and spite for six years,” Declan shot back.
“That was a balanced diet and you know it.”
Mara unpacked containers of what looked like actual home-cooked food and gave Declan a look that could have stripped paint. “You're both disasters. I don't know how either of you survived this long without adult supervision.”
“We're very resilient,” I said.
“You're very lucky.” She sat down in the chair across from me and opened one of the containers. “Eat. You're too skinny.”
“I'm not too skinny.”
“You just spent a week getting tortured and hospitalized. You're too skinny.”
“That's not how body weight works.”
“Eat the food, Troy.”
I ate the food because arguing with Mara when she was in caretaking mode was a losing battle. Besides, it was good. Better than good.
The doorbell rang again. This time it was Luka and Ash, followed by Dmitri about five minutes later. The house filled up fast with bodies and voices and the kind of warm chaos that came from people who'd survived hell together and were still standing.
“You look terrible,” Dmitri said when he saw me. He dropped onto the couch beside me hard enough to make me wince. “But alive. This is good.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I am honest man. You want me to lie, I can lie. But you look like shit.”
“He's supposed to look like shit,” Mara called from the kitchen where she'd taken over completely. “He nearly died.”
