Page 121 of Flare

That done, and with a final look at Flare in my rear-vision mirror, I threw the car into gear and headed toward a glimpse of something I hardly dared wish for.

* * *

The door opened in seconds, and with it every fear in my heart collided. Just because this was what I wanted didn’t mean Beck would agree.

“Rhys?” Beck frowned and looked down to where Valentino sat huddled in his cage, the wind ruffling his fur. He looked about as pissed off as a cat could get.

“Is the offer still open?” I asked softly. “For two? I might have to borrow a toothbrush and pretty much everything else.”

A huge grin spread over his face, and I let out the breath I’d been holding the entire drive over. “Absolutely.” He stood back and waved me inside. “Get out of that wind. You look like a blue popsicle.” He touched my cheek with the back of his hand and hissed through his teeth. “Fuck me, you’re freezing.”

“I’m okay.” I stamped my boots on the concrete to stave off the icy wind, which was currently doing an excellent job of freezing my balls in my briefs, grabbed Valentino’s cage, and walked up the hall into the lounge.

Beck followed. “You can let him out, it’s fine.” He walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on. “I cat-sit for Rafe sometimes, so I have food and a litter tray. I’ll set it up in the laundry. Now stand over that heating vent before you shatter like an ice cube.”

“He’ll likely turn his nose up at the food,” I explained, opening the cage and then making for the vent, a groan sliding from my lips at the first blast of warmth that crawled up my legs. “But he can just deal. I’m done with his attitude tonight.”

Valentino stepped cautiously out of his cage and yowled exactly what he thought about my comment, then slunk around the kitchen with a wary look while still managing to convey his obvious displeasure at being expected to make do with any of this.

“I have smoked salmon in the fridge.”

“He can have biscuits. You don’t need to pander to him.”

“It’s fine.” Beck dished some of the fish onto a bread-and-butter plate.

“I’ve missed you so much.” The words were out before I could stop them, and Beck faltered just a second before walking the plate to the laundry without even looking up.

Fuck.

“Come on, puss,” he called Valentino from the dining room where he was continuing his inspection.

“You know he hates being called that. It’syour highnessat the very least.”

And, of course, Valentino immediately scooted past my legs to wrap himself around Beck’s ankles like the traitor that he was, making an embarrassing tart of himself before falling on the salmon like a starving hyena.

Beck smirked and polished his knuckles on his jersey. “You were saying?”

I huffed. “I’ll never get the little shit to eat cat biscuits again.”

In the ensuing awkward silence, we watched Valentino eat and avoided each other’s eyes.

“How’s Jack?” It was as good a place to start as any.

“In bed. Exhausted. Coffee? Milo?”

“Milo sounds wonderful, please.”

He glanced at the clock, then set to work. “Don’t tell me you stood outside the whole time? I left over two hours ago.”

I shrugged. “Leon brought me a chair and the fire crew gave me a space blanket. I was fine.”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “For fuck’s sake, Rhys. What the hell were you doing?”

“Thinking.”

He glanced up but said nothing.

“So, you think he’ll be okay? Jack?”

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