Page 42 of Ex Somnis

“Everything’s perfect.” I step closer, stopping in front of him. “But Paul would like to talk to you.”

Nevan tilts his head. “He does?”

“Yep.” I grin. “You should go find him.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Paul

The armchair has done something irreversible to my back.

I register this before anything else—the complaint of a spine that spent the night at an angle no ergonomic professional would endorse. I notice it the way I do everything, then I remember what happened in my dream, and I stop.

Ridge.

The way he said missing you with the flat delivery of a man dropping a live grenade and stepping back.

I sit up straight and groan at the pain that sings through me at the movement.

Five years of distance, and Ridge came into my dreamscape, dismantling it in forty minutes of mutual attempted assault.

I shift my attention to the bed, at Lennon and Tessa, both of them exactly where they’ve been when I fell asleep, under the blazing ceiling light. Tessa’s chest is rising and falling steadily. Lennon, with her face still turned toward her.

The picture of them is still hard to process, but it is somewhat less hard than it was yesterday, because Ridge is in it with me now.

Furious and present, infuriating and in it.

Which makes me think about groceries. Because if Ridge is coming to stay at my house, the protein powder, the potatoes, and the espresso won’t suffice. Ridge eats badly when left to his own devices. I know that’s rich coming from me, but I will absolutely not let him look at whatever I have available and decide to subsist exclusively on sour candy.

I know this because I spent years watching him do it.

I mentally make a list for a comprehensive plan for what needs to happen before the medical team brings Lennon home, including a shower first because that is not negotiable, the spare room aired out and ready, the ground floor reconfigured so her care can happen without navigating stairs, and a call to the stairlift company to restart the installation I stopped five years ago.

I stand and move to the bed, looking at Lennon’s face, at the beauty marks I’ve cataloged, and the way, even in complete stillness, she looks like someone who is about to say something.

“I’m bringing you home today.” I press my lips to her cheek. “And back to yourself. Soon.”

She doesn’t stir as I reach for my jacket and step out into the hallway, but then in the hallway mirror, I catch myself and stop.

The reflection is not flattering.

Days in the same clothes left me looking wrinkly. The gray in my beard has graduated to something that would charitably be called distinguished and less charitably be called a man who has lost track of the concept of grooming. I lean in slightly and then lean back out because the closer I get, the worse it is.

I smell, and this is not the first time I’ve noticed this, but it is the first time I have sufficient bandwidth to do something about it.

Making my way down the stairs, I find Nora in the kitchen with her hands around a mug of something, still in her robe.

She looks up when she hears me. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes. I’m going to make everything ready if the offer from yesterday still stands.”

“Of course, it does.” She sets the mug down. “The medical team will be here in a few hours. They’ll make sure she’s stable for the transfer.”

“Thank you.” I put on my jacket, adding, “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to ask, and I’m more than happy to pay.”

“Hush. I know you can’t do your best work without your material at home, and you won’t go anywhere while she’s here.” She picks up her mug again, and her gaze moves past me toward the hallway. “I made a mistake once, not understanding what love can do to a person. What it makes them capable of. What it costs when you stand in its way. I won’t make it again.”

I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say that wouldn’t diminish it, so I nod once. She gives me the smallest of smiles in return, and I leave.