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It took a second for Luke to translate that in his head. “I don’t have a partner,” Luke told him, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt. “Just me and Colbs.”

There was a flash of something in Syrus’s eyes, maybe even anger, although Luke had no idea what Syrus had to be angry about. And then, just as quickly, the flash disappeared, and Syrus’s face softened. “You are very…kind, taking me in.”

It hadn’t been a case of kindness so much as a fit of temporary insanity, but Luke didn’t feel like arguing the point at the moment. “Let’s get you warmed up and”—he purposely avoided looking down, where his jacket cover-up wasn’t doing much of its job—“dressed.”

He led Syrus slowly through the living room to the downstairs bathroom. “You’ll have to sit in the tub. The shower with the seat is upstairs. I wasn’t thinking.”

Syrus didn’t seem to mind. He immediately ripped off Luke’s jacket and clambered into the empty tub. Luke didn’t have time to avert his eyes before getting a glimpse of…everything.

Sweet Jesus. Whoever Syrus’s people were, they were very comfortable with nudity. Which was maybe understandable, seeing as how the guy certainly didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

Nope. Nothing at all.

Luke cleared his throat for probably the millionth time, directing his gaze to the ceiling while he gathered himself. “The spray’s going to come out cold, you know. It takes a minute to heat.”

But Syrus was already leaning back against the tub, his eyes falling closed.

Okay, then. Luke shrugged and turned the water on. Syrus didn’t even flinch as the cold spray hit him. Maybe his body was numb at this point.

Luke waited with his hand in the stream until the water turned hot, and then he set it at a slightly-warmer-than-warm temperature. Too much heat wasn’t good after too much cold, right? Or was he making that up? Fuck, he was so unqualified for this.

“Make sure you clean all the sand out of your cuts, okay?” he said, hoping he sounded like he knew what he was doing. “I’m gonna grab some first aid stuff.”

Syrus cracked a single eye open, peering at Luke with a wordless question.

“Like gauze,” Luke clarified. “Bandages? Maybe some Aquaphor? I heard somewhere that moisture is good for healing wounds.”

Syrus closed his eye again. “Thank you, Luke.”

That seemed to be all he had to say on the matter. All right, then. Luke left the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it, trying to gather his thoughts.

Okay, so he’d brought home a large, naked stranger from parts unknown. A stranger who wasn’t going to be able to walk away on his own two feet anytime soon. A stranger who was weirdly calm and kind of bossy considering his recent death-defying circumstances. A stranger with a really, really nice ass.

Cool, cool, cool.

Or maybe, more like, what the hell had Luke been thinking?

Maybe it would have been a kind and semireasonable thing for a younger, unencumbered Luke to do, but he was a father now. He had more than just himself to think about when he made these kinds of decisions.

So what the fuck did he do now?

Luke let out a slow breath. Panic wasn’t going to help anything. He needed to think of next steps with a clear head.

First, he was going to get into dry clothes before he became another person in this house in need of medical attention. And then he was going to gather the bandages he’d told Syrus he would. Easy. And probably his largest set of spare clothes, because Syrus might not have minded his own nudity, but the constant glimpses were slicing off little bits of Luke’s sanity.

Was the male form really supposed to look that…perfect?

But strike that. Never mind. Luke was thinking about next steps, not the potentially perfect bodies of strangers.

So then…then Luke was going to call his sister. His brain was clearly foggy and overrun by the events of the morning.

He needed a sibling to knock some sense into him.

Luke’s sister, Shauna, had a crystal shop in town, but they were closed Monday through Wednesday, when there weren’t enough out-of-towners driving through on their way up the coast to make it worth her while to stay open.

So she would be at home and happy enough to get a call. And yet Luke still sat for a full minute on his bed, all dressed in fresh, warm clothes that didn’t reek of seawater, with his phone in his limp hand. He’d cleaned and wrapped his scraped palm already, and the tender skin barely stung anymore.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he hesitated to call. It was just, this morning had felt like a fever dream so far, and it seemed…out of place, in a way, to suddenly involve the real world in it.