“Don’t move,” Nico said quickly. “Just hold on.”
I tried to sit up anyway. The world tilted slightly. I was not fine at all.
“Here,” he said, sliding an arm under my shoulder. “Let me help you.”
He guided me upright and into one of the chairs by the kitchen table. I sat down slowly, one hand rubbing the back of my head.
“I didn’t know you were right outside.” Nico hovered in front of me, clearly panicking. “I swear I didn’t hear you.”
That made two of us.
He darted to the fridge, grabbed something, frowned, shoved it back, opened the freezer, and finally held out a frozen bag of fries.
“Here. Put this on it.”
I took it carefully. “Thanks.”
I sucked in a breath through my teeth as the cold seeped through the plastic the moment I pressed it against the sore spot.
I probed around the area gently with my fingers. There was already a small bump forming, but nothing felt wrong.
There was no blood, no dizziness beyond the initial shock. I was probably just more startled than anything.
Nico crouched in front of me. “I really am sorry. I should’ve checked if anyone was on the other side.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door.”
That much was true. There was a small pause.
The hum from behind that door had gone quiet. Nico’s eyes flicked toward it briefly, then back to me.
“So,” he said a little too casually. “What were you doing there?”
I blinked at him. He gestured toward the door. “Did you need something?”
Think.
Think. Think.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper.
“I was looking for the laundry.” I swallowed. Why did that sound fake even to me?
The words kept coming anyway, tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I didn’t bring a lot of clothes. I might run out soon. And I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know who else to ask.”
I forced myself not to look away.
Nico looked surprised at first, then his expression softened.
“Oh! Right. Laundry.” He let out a small huff of breath. “We usually just go to the laundromat in town, but?—”
He stopped abruptly.
A flicker crossed his face, like he’d almost said something he shouldn’t have.
“But,” he corrected smoothly, “we do have one here. A washing machine in the house. I’ll show you later.”
He stood up, brushing off his hands. “We might not have detergent, though. I can grab some for you when I head out.”
