Page 112 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Thanks,” he says, some of his stubborn energy dissipating. I nod and climb into bed next to him, picking at the sandwich I made for myself.

“What’s up with you?” Rafe asks, wiping the trail of blood that is tracking down his chin from his first bite of steak.

“What do you mean?”

He nods at the sandwich that I’m playing with. “You’re not eating again. I thought you were working on that.”

“I’m trying,” I say with a sigh. It’s the truth. I am trying to eat more, and my appetite is even coming back, but sometimes when I’m particularly down, I struggle with it. I don’t think I am feeling down at the moment, but the emotional upheaval of the last couple of days has my stomach turning at just the idea of food. Plus, it’s not even 5:00 a.m.

He nudges me. “Eat, then.”

I take a bite of the sandwich, and as if that’s an invitation, Rafe rips into his steak ravenously. I manage to eat half of my food before I need to stop, but he smiles at me, seemingly satisfied. Gathering our plates, I set them on the bedside table before we both settle back in the bed.

“I won’t be injured forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“So you’re going to have to stop babying me.”

I sigh. “Just let us take care of you for now. Please?”

“Fine,” Rafe says reluctantly.

“We also need to discuss your going back to school,” I say, and Rafe tenses.

“Not yet,” he says. “We should try to sleep more.”

I nod.

“Where’s Alice?”

I shrug, my eyes already growing heavy. “Watering plants or something.”

Rafe chuckles. “Who’d have thought she’d be able to nurture anything?”

My lips twitch, and we both drift off.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Summer

Iwake a few hours later when Rafe moves into my space, and I open my eyes to see Alice climbing into the space she just shoved Rafe from. He continues to snore softly, unaware of the move.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and ask, “How are the plants?”

“They’re lethal little babies. They killed a mouse.” I can hear the pride in her voice. “I’m a proud momma.”

“Aw, how cute, they take after you.”

“And you,” Alice says.

“Me?”

Alice yawns. “You are dangerous. The kind of lethal you don’t expect until it’s too late. Fragile like a gun.”

Alice became obsessed with firearms over the summer. Someone brought her a pair in Drãculea, and she rarely went anywhere without them.

“I’m your little bullet,” she continues.