“Mhmm.”
“Great!” He moved back onto the bed, squishing me as he shoved me over. “Now finish your story. How’d you beat the Shard Storm?”
I snorted. Only Oliver. After a few more swallows and swishes, I cleared my throat and explained why my insides were burned.
Oliver’s bug-eyes and open mouth pretty much matched the theme for this last week. The fact that he had no words told me everything I needed to know. I waited. Once he picked his mouth up off the ground, he said, “Aspen used the ceremonial words for a cordistella union to give you more energy.”
“Excuse me, what?”
Oliver nodded, his brows raised with ayeah, exactlyexpression on his face. “He said the words, and they actually worked. Well, let’s say worked with consequences.”
I grabbed his arms. “Does that mean—we’re not?—”
Oh, Heavenly Shit. Was that why Ronen was so pissed off? Was I—no. No!
Oliver poked my fresh stitches, and I hissed. “Sorry, didn’t want you to hyperventilate.”
I glared. He tilted his head, his hair flopping half over his eyes as he smiled with all his teeth and brought his hands up to his chin. “Didn’t ya miss me?”
“Maybe.”
His feigned cuteness dropped, and he jabbed my stitches again.
“Hey!” I shouted.
“That’s what you get for keeping me in the dark these last few days! I expected morning and night, maybe even afternoon, reports, Lucille Chiara! As a best friend should very well know to do.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Aspen’s?—”
“A ripe old bastard who clearly needs a lot of help.”
“He’s not as old as you or Ronen,” I mumbled over him.
Oliver quirked a brow. “I will poke you again.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It’s just Oli, with his quirky personality and teasing, always filled me with… bubbles. Light, colorful bubbles that made me giggle and feel like a child again. With him and Alexei, I’m not sure how anyone could be depressed.
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe Oliver and Alexei should take Aspen out on a man-date of sorts.
“Lucy!” He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Let’s get back on track, shall we?”
“Well, do you think…”
“No. Even if, by some impossible happenstance, he was your cordistella—which he’s not—you still wouldn’t be officially bonded. You never repeated the phrase. And, to be honest, he skipped a few words.”
“You know this how?”
Oliver glanced around the room, gesturing to the single chair, bare walls, and side table with vials and medical tools. “How exactly do you think I get my entertainment? Besides staring at Sam’s ass when I can?—”
I opened my mouth, completely ready to hop on that conversation, but he held up his hand, stopping me.
“I eavesdrop, which is proving semi-informative, and I read. Especially about topics related to my best friend. And Cato, begrudgingly, gives me the books per Sam’s orders.” Oliver smiled in a smug, dreamy sort of way. It was a smile I’d never seen on his face before. I quite liked it.
Knowing he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was going on, I refrained from digging. “Okay, so then why did it work?”
Oliver raised a finger. “Better question—why did he think it would?”
I slumped back and leaned my head onto his shoulder.
