“Ouch!”
“Ira?”
Doyle rubbed his nose while blinking sleep from his eyes.“I hope you weren’t expecting someone else.”
Larkin sat up.“Why’re you in bed.”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
Larkin leaned over him and read the time on the clock: 9:22 a.m.He was supposed to be at the precinct an hour and twenty-two minutes ago.
“You’re not late,” Doyle warned.
Poised to launch from the bed, Larkin asked, “What.”
“Connor was going to make you take a personal day, but I cautioned him against it.”
Larkin’s tension eased.He arched an eyebrow.
Doyle sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist.He seemed to fortify himself before saying, “The last Adam Worth case triggered some unhealthy tendencies in you that haven’t… really abated.I think the right thing to do would be to remove an individual from the source of the compulsion, but what works for others, I know doesn’t always work for you.And sometimes, not allowing you to confront the cause for an obsession ends up making it stronger.”He clarified by tapping the side of his own head and adding, “Up here.”
Larkin stared, silent and unblinking.
“I see what it’s doing to you, and if you’re going to solvethiscase, you need to make sure your basic needs are met or you’re going to burn out.That’s how mistakes are made and that’s how people get hurt.But you’ve got me, and I won’t let that happen.If getting you one step closer to catching the sender means making grilled cheeses at midnight or charming your lieutenant into a late call time, then that’s what I’ll do to support you.”
After a moment of consideration, Larkin only said, “Connor never approves late call times.You either show up, or you don’t.”
Doyle leaned in.“I’m very convincing.”
“What’d you do.”
Smiling brightly, Doyle said, “Evie, we’ve been over this.I just smiled and asked.”
Larkin grunted.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Is it in bad taste to say I slept like the dead.”
Doyle kissed Larkin’s shoulder before climbing out of bed.“I’m glad.”
“You skipped your workout,” Larkin noted.
Doyle went to the dresser and collected underwear from the top drawer.“Yeah.I was in a sex coma.”
Larkin didn’t typically hang on to ego strokes—compliments were unnecessary when he was already quite aware of his own capabilities—but that one he didn’t mind.He planted his hands behind himself and leaned back, taking in the view of Doyle’s naked body and its almost ethereal glow in the morning light.
Doyle turned.“Mind if I shower first?”
“No.”
Larkin waited, waited until Doyle had left the bedroom, until the bathroom door had closed, until the shower had turned on, before he blew out a very cautious breath.He felt so—dare he say it—goodthat Larkin was scared one wrong move would send the euphoria into dormancy again.He could’ve kicked himself for lowering his guard so much that nearly eight hours of uninterrupted sleep had been obtained, but….
Larkin climbed out of bed, found his discarded T-shirt, pulled on a pair of low-rise trunks, and as he padded into the kitchen, drawing open the blinds to reveal a beautiful summer day, he considered the last time sleep had felt so simple andpure.
Certainly before he’d gotten addicted to benzos.
Larkin took his morning medication and flipped the switch on the coffeepot.
