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“You’re in charge, silly, just sign it over to me.” His laugh dies on a wheeze. “My head hurts, and it’s making me dizzy.” He pitches sideways to lie on the floor.

“Where’s your medication? It has to be time to take it.” Paul’s unhinged, and hell only knows how bad his symptoms will get.

“My last dose is at my nan’s. I don’t have insurance anymore to get a refill.” His eyes close and he drifts off.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I jump a mile at a buzzing. I’d be the first to die in the apocalypse. Zero self-preservation. Instead of running, I stay locked in my mind on the floor. The buzzing persists from the couch, and it’s my phone.

I ease up, but Paul shoots awake, sitting abruptly. “What’s that noise?” he demands.

“No clue. I was going to check so you could sleep. Seems you need it.” My hopes sink as the buzzing stops. Mav can’t return until after his game tonight. I missed my chance.

A pounding on the door startles us. His accusing eyes swing to my wide ones.

“Hello? It’s Refurbish Removal here for the pickup,” a voice hollers from the hall.

“This isn’t a good time. Can you come another time?” I raise my voice.

“Listen, man, I got a schedule to keep, and if you want this to go to”—we hear pages flipping—“The Q Solutions, I gotta grab it now.”

“It’s for charity,” I plead to Paul, tucking the kitten into my coat, ready to run this time.

“I’ll answer the door.” Paul stands, striding away, and I follow.

My skin prickles with the awareness that something isn’t right. Last time I talked to someone about a pickup, they were scheduling a month out and Mav explicitly requested the couch go somewhere people could sit on it before they take it home. He hates the thought of someone being stuck with it.

Paul grips the door handle, and I tug him backward as the door opens to a detail of police officers in riot gear with guns out. Paul needs help, not punishment.

“Don’t—” The word “shoot” dies in my throat as Mav yells my name.

“He’ll ruin everything,” Paul screams, ignoring the officers. He lunges toward Mav’s voice, and I fall on his legs.

I lie half on Paul, checking the kitten who glares at me with angry eyes.

Black pants and boots enter my line of sight right before hands reach for me. “Please don’t touch me,” I beg and roll off Paul.

“We need to get you out of here. I’m going to take you to your boyfriend, okay?”

“He needs his medication. Help him.” I gesture to Paul, who is pinned to the floor and being cuffed.

The officer helps me to my feet and directs me to the hallway and Mav. I burst into tears, and the kitten escapes, running up Mav’s body to perch on his shoulder.

Chapter 35

Maverick Maher

The hospital chair doesn’t fit my large frame, and everything smells like antiseptic. I’m losing my mind with our inability to leave. Sky hit his head when he recklessly tackled Paul. There were trained men and women with guns, and my boyfriend thought it was necessary to defend me. I love him, but I’d get satisfaction from knocking some sense into him.

It’s almost dawn, and he’s been under observation for a concussion. Even though he’s been medically cleared, we haven’t been able to leave yet.

The police haven’t left either, asking the same questions over and over. Sky confirms the guy’s name is Paul but doesn’t know his last name or what type of medication he needs. From what we’ve overheard, Paul is in this hospital too, being psychologically evaluated.

Sky shivers again, and the only thing keeping me out of his bed is the IV attached to him because his nurse gave me a stern warning not to move it.

I rest my head on his thigh, and he pats my head to comfort me.

“You’re the one who needs to be taken care of,” I mumble, rubbing my cheek along his sheet-covered knee.

“Is the kitten okay? I hope I didn’t hurt him.” Sky tenses at the thought.