“Once from a boat after you dislocated your shoulder.”
“Anything else?”
“A few times when you were drunk.”
“I don’t drink much.”
“You lost a competition with Caleb.”
“That sounds unlikely.”
“It was memorable.”
He made a small sound that might have been laughter.
At the top, I carried him through the apartment rather than set him in the chair.
Marlowe followed, agitated and curious.
Noah’s face turned into my chest.
“Could get used to this.”
“You are becoming spoiled.”
“Good.”
I took him to the couch.
He objected weakly.
“Bed.”
“You need medication and water first.”
“Bed after.”
“Yes.”
I settled him against the cushions.
His eye remained closed.
I brought water and the midday tablets.
He swallowed them slowly.
Then his hand caught my wrist.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“The money.”
“You did not cause it.”
“I should have asked.”
