He probably wanted a few minutes alone to process and feel. I wasn’t going to begrudge him that.
“He’s got stitches in his lower lip, a concussion, and bruised ribs. But he’s okay.”
“Before you ask, I’m fine too,” Alara said.
“Right. You totally look fine,” Ezmeray said with an eye roll.
“Really. Aside from the screaming ankle and my sore throat, I’m okay.”
Her voice was getting raspy as the swelling got worse.
“Well, why don’t you have that man of yours drop you in bed, and I will help you get cleaned up while he locates an ice pop?
Alara agreed, and I deposited her on the bed before checking in on Charlotte myself, then glancing in at Liam, who was in bed, rubbing his ribs absentmindedly.
“Want some meds?”
“I took what Salvatore said to. Just waiting.”
“You did good tonight, kid,” I told him, stepping inside. “It wasn’t your job, but you stepped up. I appreciate that more than you can know. Even if I hate that you got hurt in the process. I’m proud of you.”
He gave me a nod.
“She really okay?”
“She’s got more stuff to hiss at us about, but she’s gonna be fine.”
“I like having her here.”
“I do too. Think we might have to keep her.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed.
“I’ll be right out here; call me if you need anything.”
He nodded.
“Thanks again, kid.”
I moved back out, finding Brio standing there with two glasses of whiskey.
I nearly lunged at it.
When I was done throwing it back, Brio nodded.
“So, you and Alara.”
“How…”
“Please,” he said, shaking his head.
“I know I should have talked to you.”
“She’s a grown woman. And she’s got some twisted thoughts about torture up in her head.”
“Gee, wonder where she got that.”
His smile curved up.
