Page 63 of What Remains

“Since the hallway on the plane.”

After all the hellos and hugs last night, followed by my checkup, I spent the night in my room. I just needed some alone time.

“By the way,” I begin at the memory, “what’d you and Julian talk about? Took you a bit to join us.” I wasn’t planning to ask that anytime soon, but out it came.

He turns, and seeing his back reminds me all over again of what that damn woman did to him. I discard the bagel as my appetite evaporates in real time.

“Nothing. He said nothing to me.”

Well, that answers that. A lot was said.

“Now your turn to answer my question.”

“That sounded awfully bossy.”

He pours his coffee. “As it should be,” he throws my words back at me. “Now tell me.”

“I’m fine. How about you?” I hop off the counter, much more worried about him than I am myself. “Did you see the doctor about your back?”

“Yeah. My pain-in-the-ass sister made me. Gave me some topical antibiotics for the lash marks.” He slowly faces me, bringing the lip of his cup to his mouth, but he doesn’t drink yet.

I reach forward and snatch his hat so I can get a better read on his eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t start up again with that worrying nonsense.”

“I won’t, as long as you don’t worry about me.” With his hat, I wave him away, and the charms on my bracelet jangle together. “Dad gave it back to me.”

“I can see that.” He sips his coffee, one hand going into his sweats pocket. His dark hair is controlled but not styled. Deliberate disorder that’s far too sexy and in need of my fingers running through it.

The way this man can pull off gorgeous and devastatingly casual at four in the morning should be illegal.

What is wrong with me?

Oh, right. Loads.

I return his hat in place and pick up my mug. “So, no health questions, but how about this one?” I peek at him from over my drink. “Do you have plans to have your stuff stored at your dad’s shipped back here?”

He chokes on his coffee and lowers the cup to the counter, striking the heel of his hand to his chest. “Wrong pipe.”

Wrong question, too, from the sounds of it.

“I’ll get around to it eventually.”

Why’d that feel like another lie?

“Carter told me he opened a clothing store after I moved out. They have an online option?”

“Oh, wow, such a hardship to travel a few flights upstairs to shop.”

“It is, actually.” He half smiles.

“Silly.” I smile back. “I’ve been asking Carter to open that store forever.” I hold out my palms like I’m doing a magic trick. “You just never know when you’ll need an emergency suit or underwear to buy in person.”

“Actually, I am in need of the second thing.”

I drop my eyes straight to his crotch, unable to stop myself. “Wait . . . are you⁠—”

“Commando beneath? Yes.”