Page 218 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"It helps fill the silence."

I smiled.

"You listen to old country music?"

"My grandfather did."

"So, you inherited a questionable taste."

"I inherited a radio."

A laugh escaped before I could stop it.

"There it is," he muttered.

"What?"

"I've been waiting to hear you laugh again."

The words stole every smart reply I had. He crossed the room, picking up the folded pile from the bed before holding it out toward me.

"I found something that should fit."

I reached for it. Soft cotton. An oversized academy T-shirt. A pair of loose black sweatpants with the drawstring tied in a careful knot. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Completely Elias.

My fingers lingered against the fabric longer than necessary.

"They're clean but they'll probably be too big."

"It doesn’t matter, thank you."

"You can roll the sleeves."

I looked up, unable to stop smiling.

"You always explain everything?"

"I've been told I do."

"You have?"

His mouth twitched barely. Enough that I counted it as a victory, but he quickly pulls it back from my grasp, his large fingers tightening on the hem.

“I need to bandage your wounds first.”

I nod, my shoulders pulling inward. “Okay.”

“Sit.”

I sit on the edge of his bed.

“Lean back.”

I lean back against the green quilted coverlet. A strangled, breathless laugh comes from the back of my throat, a sudden pain tingling my side from what I assume is a fractured rib.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re bossy, Detective?”

“No, I believe people expect it of me, but I’ll keep that in mind.”