“Eli, can you take a look at his arm first?” Damon asked, and Cain paused.
“What’s wrong with his arm?” Eli’s skeptical gaze flitted over Cain.
“I scratched it. It’s fine. I don’t need help. But… thank you.” Damn his ingrained manners.
“Cain,” Damon warned, but this time Eli cut him off.
“He says it’s a scratch, man. Leave the kid alone.”
“Yeah, Big Daddy. Leave the kid alone,” Cain deadpanned, pleased to see Damon’s jaw tighten. “Thanks for the bed,” he told Eli, and he walked himself up the stairs.
“Who the hell is that?” Cain heard Eli mutter, just before he closed the door to the bedroom. He hovered by the door to hear Damon’s answer.
“It’s complicated,” Damon sighed.
And Cain shut the door silently. Maybe he was better off not knowing.
