Page 34 of Forget Me Not

The couch still smelled like him. Ray considered the cushion and pillow next to him for a moment longer, then got up. If he were to lie down, he might fall asleep again without a problem, which was either the magic allegedly in his system or an effect of Cal’s scent. He stretched as he walked the length of the room, checking the windows, peering outside at the yard, undisturbed and unoccupied except for the bird.

The windows remained locked. He turned his attention to the rest of the room. Under a magazine on Cal’s desk was a sealable container full of dry cereal. It smelled like honey and almonds when Ray opened it, which was healthier than he would have expected. He took a handful and ate it, more aware once he did that his stomach was empty and complaining about it.

At his desk, in one of the drawers, he found a tin of coconut and pistachio Turkish Delight, imported. Surprised, he opened it, but it contained various loose candies, some packaged, some not, none of them what it said on the tin. Hidden amongst the candies, concealed in a wrapper decorated like a strawberry, was a thumb drive. Ray considered it for several moments, trying to remember what was on it or why he’d hidden it, but his mind stayed blank. He finally put it back, then stacked some papers on top of the tin before closing the drawer again.

In the daylight, after some rest, it was even more impossible to ignore the evidence of his life, their life, here. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to fake the scents soaked into the carpet and the walls and the upholstery, or the details he discovered in their shared space. In the hall closet on the way to the bedroom, everything in a box or a bin had been labeled with a label maker. Ray easily imagined himself doing that—and Cal teasing him for it. The bins were all clear, so the items within could be seen, apparently in case the labels were not enough. He wondered if that had been to help the fairy remember where things were. Ray was sort of pleased at the thought, that he had done this for Cal, and could only hope Cal had liked it.

Cal continued to work on whatever he was working on, undisturbed or perhaps unaware that Ray was up. Ray cocked his head at the sound of Cal muttering under his breath to his laptop. He probably had a deadline, so Ray returned to the bedroom and the bathroom to clean up and shave.

The faintest scent of artificial watermelon teased his nose, but at least he could use his own soap now, and a real shower might help clear his head. He didn’t think he would be focusing on much besides Cal today, and briefly wondered how he had managed to keep working the first time he found him. Then again, from what Cal had hinted, Ray hadn’t managed anything well the first time.

He hesitated once staring at the bedroom closet, not certain he would be allowed to work on anything right now if they kept to protocol. Sitting around on his ass while whoever attacked him walked free was a thought to make him snarl, but at the idea of heading in to work, he had to forcibly unclench his jaw and roll his shoulders.

In the bathroom, and now paying more attention, he sniffed out which products were his and which were Cal’s. The oatmeal soap seemed to be for both of them. Cal had shampoo but no conditioner, which was a fairy thing or he used Ray’s.

Ray didn’t take long in the shower, but used Cal’s shampoo since he doubted Cal would notice. He regretted it only once he realized thathewould notice, probably all day, and be distracted. It was a childish thing to do, sneak a bit of Cal’s scent to keep for his own. It couldn’t do anything to help him. But he didn’t get back in the shower. He dried off and stood in front of the closet before finally deciding on a suit.

He had no intention of staying home all day.

His suits and shirts were as expensive as he could afford them to be, mostly to avoid the itch of cheap fabric and stitching. They were only in a few colors, but he seemed to have more vividly blue shirts than he remembered. Detectives were not supposed to dress flashy, or in bright colors, not in Los Cerros, anyway. It wasn’t an official rule, but that was how it was. Ray didn’t know if blue shirts qualified, but he had them and he clearly wore them, so he put one on now, and chose a tie to match.

Then, because he would never be able to focus otherwise, he took the duvet cover from the bed and put it in the washing machine before heading out to the living room, where he had to sniff out where most of his shoes had ended up. This turned out to be the basket by the door, a neat basket, next to Cal’s jumbled and half-empty one.

He wondered if the baskets had been his idea or Cal’s, and, as if summoned by the thought, Cal walked out of the kitchen and nearly jumped when he saw Ray.

“Oh! IthoughtI heard the washing machine.” Cal was in the same jeans he’d worn yesterday, and gave Ray a reproachful look that quickly lightened into hope. “Do you remember—”

“No.” Ray didn’t want to take that look away, but didn’t want Cal to keep searching for what wasn’t there. “I remember you from yesterday but not from before.”

“Oh.” Cal did not seem terribly surprised, just disappointed before he rallied. “You slept well. You were out of it, to be honest. How do you feel?”

“Better.” The headache would probably go away once he ate.

Cal sighed deeply, as if that, at least, made him happy. But then he gave Ray a once over and frowned. “A suit? Tired of sweats already?”

“I… thought I’d work.” Ray gestured at his desk, as though he needed to be dressed in a suit to work from home. “I usually have paperwork.”

Cal pursed his lips and gave Ray, or his colors, another quick study. “Maybe some food first?” he suggested, then rushed on before Ray could respond. Ray would have said he was nervous, but Cal was too far away from him for his scent to have fully drifted over yet, and also, he had every reason to be nervous; he was alone with an unstable werewolf. “I’ve approved Cassandra’s invoice and sent it in to the department. She should get paid in a few months, hopefully. They really should have a spell-removal allowance, the same as medical stuff. But that would mean admitting that they can’t handle it, or that people don’t like them, and they refuse.”

Ray considered the grumbling, which sounded like a complaint Cal had made before, then slightly shifted the topic of discussion. “So you handle work for the department?”

Cal went still, or as still as he probably could be. “Less and less these days. And not at the station itself if I can help it.”

He didn’t move from his spot in the doorway so Ray didn’t move either. He did frown, but just for a moment. “We don’t interact there?” Ray had been young when his father died, and his parents were not mated, but he had assumed that he and Cal had been a part of each other’s lives and work in some way. “Did I…” he trailed to silence, then tried again. “Is it something I did?”

Cal quirked a little smile. “Outside of the bedroom, Ray, you do not actually put your foot down much about anything with me. You have not forbidden me from going to the station, which, for future reference since you don’t know me, isabsolutelythe way to make me do whatever it is you don’t want me to do. But…” Cal’s smile fell, and he fidgeted before tearing his hands apart, “but it alarms you, when I do. When I go there. Sorry.” His eyes were wide. “We don’t actually talk about this. This is just something that I noticed and acted upon. Your colors, you see. You can’t calm down while I’m there. You might as well have your fur spiked up.”

Ray’s head began to pound again. His mouth was too wet, as though he might vomit. He swallowed several times before speaking slowly and carefully. “That implies I think you’re in danger there.”

Cal glanced around the room and then finally, almost reluctantly, looked back at Ray. He gave a weak and unconvincing shrug. “We don’t talk about it.”

Risking vomit or not, Ray had to fight to keep the rumble from his voice. “And why don’t we?”

Cal waved a hand. “Neither of us is great at that stuff, Ray. I’ve got parent issues. You’re…you. The best I can do is guess, but I think my guess is right.” His discomfort faded long enough for him to give Ray a cocky grin. “That’s where you tell me, begrudgingly, that I usually am. Right, that is. And yes, I usually am.”

Ray wanted to kiss his wicked little mouth.

But then Cal was waving again and glancing around instead of looking directly at Ray. “Ithink,” he began in a mumble before raising his voice a fraction, “it’s partly a were thing. The rest of it is ayouthing. You need for me to be safe. I am not safe there—or at least, your instincts tell you I’m not. But you have no proof... or you don’twantproof of it, because that place, those people, are supposed to… they are supposed to be yours. Your people. Your pack. And you’re not ready to address that. Or… or it hurts or… your instincts at war with each other. A cold war, for now. Listen to me getting dramatic.” He took a quick step forward, his hands out in an almost pleading gesture. “This is all me guessing, Ray. Just guessing. And it wasn’t always like this… this bad. It’s just gotten worse. First the trial, then it’s like what happened up north has started a bunch of fires down here. Or… they were already burning and everyone was pretending they weren’t I… it’s kind of early for me to be making metaphors. Similes? Comparisons.”

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