“Yeah?”
“You’re naked. I mean, I’m not complaining. But it’s almost three. The kids should be here any second.”
“Right,” he agreed, a little frazzled from the whole event. He yanked his underwear up, then his pants and a tee. Only then did he stride out of the room.
He came back a second later.
He was still pressing a saline-soaked gauze to my lip when the kids came into the apartment with all the racket of a football team.
“Home!” Charlotte announced unnecessarily.
“Yeah, hey, dude. I’ll take you in a minute,” Liam said to, I imagined, Tuna. “Everything alright?” he asked, coming into the doorway of the bedroom.
“Alara accidentally broke her lip open again.”
“Yeah? She probably shouldn’t be eating the rest of that sub then, right? All the vinegar…”
A small laugh escaped me.
“All yours.”
“There’s enough for both of you,” Christopher added. He dropped the gauze in the trash and reached for the petroleum jelly, gathering some up on his pinky before gliding it across my lips.
“Gross,” I grumbled.
“Your own fault,” he reminded me.
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice going softer. “No, I’m definitely not complaining.”
After the kids devoured our leftover lunch, Liam took off with my dog and his portable charger, likely using my mutt for content. And, hey, the little jerk cost me a lot of money. He might as well contribute.
Charlotte roped me and Christopher into about a dozen hands of Uno before insisting she was starving around six, prompting Christopher to whip up some quick chicken breasts, broccoli, and sweet potatoes while we all discussed Charlotte’s options for an upcoming extra credit book report.
It was all so… natural.
Comfortable.
I didn’t feel like a guest crashing their domesticity.
I felt like I was part of it.
Like I belonged.
But those were dangerous thoughts to be having.
So I pushed them down and asked Charlotte if she finished her most recent book or not.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alara
Three days passed of me clomping around in the apartment, going a little stir crazy.
Neither Christopher nor Liam would let me help out with chores. I wasn’t even allowed to feed my own dog. Though, to be fair, with each passing day, it became more and more clear that Tuna was more Liam’s dog than mine. Some part of me felt like, when this recovery period was over, it would almost be wrong to tear the two apart.
I read my books, watched Charlotte’s shows with her, and lounged in bed with my foot elevated, staring at the ceiling.
