Page 60 of The Bones in the Yard

“I was on my way out the door when you texted.”

“I can take a hint,” he said, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Go.”

“Going.”

We both hung up, and I got up, grabbed my bag, and was on my way, only pausing to make sure I could see Pet—curled up in her cat tree—before closing and locking the door and heading downstairs.

* * *

It was abouttwo hours after I’d left that I let myself back into Taavi’s apartment, finding him curled up on the futon under a blanket that definitely hadn’t been there last night. I set down my stuff and the couple of bags of groceries I’d picked up on the way over.

He blinked blearily up at me. “Did—did I sleep all day?” he asked, his voice rough.

I came over and put the back of my fingers on his forehead. Hot, but fuck if I could tell if he was feverish or just a shifter. He wasn’t sweaty or clammy, so I figured he was probably okay.

“No. It’s only like ten,” I answered.

A frown creased his forehead. “Don’t you have work?”

“Nope.” I didn’t feel the need to explain the part about texting Ward. I didn’t want Taavi to feel at all guilty about the fact that I was taking off work to take care of him. Because I didn’t fucking give a shit, and I’d have taken off to do it even if my boss had been a dick about it—which Ward, of course, absolutely wasn’t.

“Oh.”

His expression was killing me, his brown eye focused on my features, searching for something, although I couldn’t have told you what. But I let him look, mostly because I was studying him back. He looked tired, his features pinched, either by exhaustion or pain—or both.

“Did you take your meds yet this morning?” I asked him, and got a headshake in return.

They were on the kitchen counter, so I went and got them, along with a glass of orange juice. Sugar was good. Sugar would give him energy, which he needed to heal. He took the meds, swallowing all four pills—one aspirin, two acetaminophen, one Percocet—at once with a gulp of juice, then finished the glass.

“Get some more sleep, Taavi.”

He frowned up at me again.

“Your body needs rest to heal,” I told him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.” It was both a literal promise to not fuck off on him while he was sleeping, but also a longer term promise, one I wasn’t quite ready to say explicitly, but that I meant anyway.

Still watching me as though he wasn’t entirely certain what I was going to do, he nestled back down into his blanket, and I took the empty juice glass back to the kitchen.

And then, because food is love, I got to work making brunch. Proper Eggs Benedict for Taavi, my usual tomato version for me, home fries, juice, and coffee. There were still leftovers from last night, but only a monster eats alfredo for breakfast when there can be eggs benny.

I’d also decided to be ballsy as fuck and had gotten the makings of Taavi’scapriotada. I was going to just fucking do it live and hope it wasn’t terrible. It was going to take me the better part of the day between baking the bread and then soaking it, so it would give me something to keep myself distracted so Taavi could rest. But I’d start that after we ate.

I was finishing up the hollandaise when Taavi shuffled into the doorway of the tiny kitchen. He’d changed at some point into a pair of loose sweatpants and a button-down flannel shirt. He’d left it open, and I could see the circular pattern of his tattoo swooping across his chest and upper abs before disappearing under the soft fabric at his shoulder and wrapping around his side.

I really wanted to get a better look at it, but looking at it would meantouchingit because I wouldn’t be able to help myself. And there were definitely parts of it that I was pretty sure weren’t supposed to be purple and blue and green and even yellowish from the developing bruises on his skin.

“Hey,” I said out loud, turning off the burner under the hollandaise.

“Hi,” he murmured back, his face still uncertain.

“You okay?” I asked him, worried that there was something more than just his injuries that was bothering him.

He sucked his lip, which was scabbed over and a little puffy, into his mouth, and nodded.

I couldn’t help myself, and I moved closer, reaching out to run my hand over his loose hair. He immediately stepped into my body, and I wrapped my arms around him.

“Really?” I asked, continuing to stroke his hair with one hand, my other palm on his back.

He shook his head into my chest, and my heart constricted.

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