Page 108 of The Turning of the Tables

He sighed, then left the room, gently closing the door behind him.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

I needed to be nicer to Noah. I needed to be more grateful, less whiny, and do more to actually take care of myself, as opposed to forcing him to wait on me hand and foot.

Tomorrow.

29

ELLIOT CRANE

Are things improving any?

SETH MAYS

I’ve managed to actually get some sleep.

Not much.

More than before.

Has it helped?

Some.

Fewer headaches. Less brain fog.

Still tired, but less.

That’s a good sign.

I guess.

I’m sorrypeople are assholes.

Me, too.

It had been justover a week since I’d been laid off for medical reasons, and I absolutely hated admitting that I felt better. Physically, not psychologically or emotionally. But it is absolutely true that one’s physical health has a significant impact on one’s mental health.

It’s a lot easier not to bite other people’s heads off when you feel even marginally rested and not continuously hungry. It’s also a lot easier not to lose control of your emotions when you don’t interact with anybody but your own twin.

The first few days had been text after text as Quincy spread the word—I’d heard from Hart and Taavi, Ward, Maza, and even Maginot. Ward had offered to find something for me to do at Beyond the Veil, although it was clear that he didn’t actuallyhaveanything for me to do, so I’d have felt beyond guilty accepting. I’d even gotten a text from Schitikova, who said that he’d miss seeing me at crime scenes and hoped I would get better and get back to working in a lab soon.

It was a nice sentiment, even if trying to make polite and seemingly optimistic replies just made me more depressed. But that’s what you were supposed to do, so I did it, making polite chit-chat and feeling something inside me die every time I sent some platitude or other.

Not to Quincy or Elliot. Or Hart, although he hadn’t said anything patronizing or overly saccharine, as I was pretty sure that Hart didn’t have a saccharine or optimistic bone in his long, lanky body. Honestly, that made him a lot easier to talk to than the people trying to make me feel better.

But even those conversations—with Quincy, Hart, and even Elliot—left me surly and ill-tempered. Everything was leaving me ill-tempered. Which made me feel guilty, and that made me feel even more ill-tempered.

Just like how my anxiety kept me awake, which made me more anxious.

Do you ever wish you weren’t a shifter?

That you could go back and do something different to not catch it?

Not anymore.

I did for a while.