But of course I did.
I was nosy as hell.
Xanax.
The bottle seemed full, but that didn’t mean anything.
I put it back and stood up. We all needed help sometimes. I was pretty sure half the world felt anxiety in one form or another these days. I spotted the first aid kit, finding kinetic tape and ace bandages inside.
I took it all back into the living room and paused at the end of the hall.
He was asleep.
Our intrepid pup looked up guiltily. He was laying on the other end of the couch with his nose a few inches away from the lump of Dutch under the blanket.
I set the bottle next to him along with the supplies. I should probably wake him. I really needed to get those pills into him for the inflammation, but he actually looked quite peaceful.
The harsh lines between his eyes had smoothed. And the slash of lips were actually much fuller when he wasn’t smashing them together against whatever he actually wanted to say. Part of me wanted to push the curls out of his face. Since that was just ridiculous, I took a really large step back.
I should probably just go home.
He’d be fine.
I tucked the blanket around his shoulder then noticed the half empty boxes in his kitchen. I wandered into the large room. It had definitely been upgraded since the last time I’d been to visit Lizzie. I trailed my fingertips over the concrete countertops. The color was a deep teal. An actual color—amazing.
It complimented the copper and gold hues in the tile backsplash.
Whoever redid the kitchen actually loved cooking. The range was induction and made my fingers itch to try it out. I peeked into one of the boxes and found a few staples for soup. The deep rust colored Le Creuset Dutch oven sunk my battleship. I dug through his fridge and found a few more things I could use.
We both needed to eat.
And it was a snowstorm.
Soup only made sense.
I found a bag of little white potatoes and knew exactly what I was going to make.
FOUR
Dutch
I wokewith heat against my face and hot breath against my knee.
That didn’t make sense in the least.
When I opened one eye, my face was turned toward the fireplace. Roasting, I pushed away the blanket, startled when the dog from earlier popped up off the couch like I’d kicked him. I frowned when he slunk away from me and curled up in front of the fireplace, hiding his nose under his tail.
Annoyed that I immediately wanted to apologize to the mutt, I sat up. I instantly regretted it as pain radiated up my leg. I tugged the blanket off my foot and hissed. My ankle was definitely three times the size it should be. I pushed myself up gingerly and knocked into a pill bottle with my elbow.
A bottle of water sat on the end table next to the pills.
Phoebe—I think that was her name.
I shook four out and downed them, then finished the rest of the water. I was parched and my head throbbed. I caught a flash out of the corner of my eye. She was still here. And she was holding a wooden spoon up like a microphone as she wiggled in front of the stove silently singing to something I couldn’t hear.
I squinted and realized she was wearing my headphones.
I collapsed back in my nest of pillows and blankets. The whole house smelled spicy and warm.
