This was my favorite kind of comfort food.
I sipped my whiskey between spoonfuls, feeling warm and grounded. I didn’t care if I never left this bed for the foreseeable future.
Placing the empty whiskey glass and bowl on the side table, I turned on my side, sliding deeper into the covers as the light out the window faded into night. The warm beans and broth in my stomach added to my sleepiness.
It wasn’t long before blessed oblivion found me.
CHAPTER 21
Nash
Leaving Sybil to shower and settle in, I wanted to get food started before showering myself. I assumed Sybil was tired and would want to sleep, if not right away. She wouldn’t do so hungry.
I’d watched her avoid food at the hospital, something my mother did every time we’d gone in for an appointment or procedure. Nervous people weren’t fond of eating with an audience, so I planned to bring food to her room until she felt comfortable being in our presence.
Bee and I got to work chopping onions and green peppers.
“I made her bed with weighted blankets,” Bee said, breaking the silence, “and youstink.You should let me do this and go shower.” She crinkled her nose at me.
I grunted. “I will once I know she’s settled and fed.”
She eyed me with adoration. “Of course. The ardent protector.”
I started the stove and poured olive oil into the bottom of a heavy soup pot. We added the peppers and onions.
Bee was stirring. “Hell, I love the smell of sautéed onions and peppers. It’s masking the smell of you, at least,” she teased.
Shaking my head, I worked the lid off two cans of white beans, pouring them into a colander and rinsing them before adding them to the pot of peppers and onions. I added a tablespoon of crushed garlic from a jar, knowing the garlic would help soothe Sybil’s raw throat along with the sea salt and thyme I added next.
Bee poured a carton of chicken bone broth in and stirred.
I retrieved a rotisserie chicken from the fridge, and Bee and I set to stripping the meat from the bones. We added the chunks to the pot a little at a time. It simmered.
We hadn’t cooked together like this in a long time, not since the holiday season last year with Dad. Our family had fallen apart in a way, not on purpose, but with time. Mom was always the glue.
Bee retrieved a bar of cream cheese from the fridge and dropped it into the chili to melt and thicken the soup after adding all the chicken. I watched and stirred as it got creamier with each pass of the wooden spoon. The steam felt good on my face.
After a few moments of letting the soup cook and meld, I filled a bowl and poured two fingers of whiskey into an etched crystal tumbler. I set both on a dark wood tray along with some food for Bill and a cat sushi treat in the shape of a fish for Mr. Beans.
I didn’t know what kind of food Bill or Mr. Beans ate, but I had a batch of handmade food and treats delivered from the shop I’d been buying pet treats from for the last couple of weeks. They’d been receiving a steady diet of this food already, courtesy of me. I figured that’d do for now until I learned what they normally ate.
Before Bee could stop me and do it herself, I slid the tray off the marble counter and made my way to Sybil’s room around the corner. The shower had been off for a while, and I hoped that meant she was done and dressed.
Reaching the door, I knocked on the oak. I waited a few moments, but only heard Bill panting and whining on the other side.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep? I tried the brass knob, discovering she hadn’t locked it. I saw it as a good sign I could enter.
Balancing the tray, I opened the door, greeted by the wet and curious nose of Bill. His giant brown eyes were wide, the whites showing as he attempted to see high enough to view what I carried.
Letting go of the door handle, I assessed the space, not seeing anyone. I grasped the dog food from the tray. There was a bowl of water already atop a rubber mat Bee set up for the pets, and I placed it there.
Looking back at the room, I wondered if I’d missed seeing her in bed under the blankets, but she wasn’t there. Glancing toward the bathroom, the door was open a few feet. The mirror was fogged, but no movement.
Shit.
Not wanting to be caught, I hurried to the bedside andoffloaded the rest of the tray’s contents as quickly and quietly as I could. As I did, movement through the bathroom door caught my eye.
I stilled like a buck in the crosshairs.
