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Yes.
I walked into the reading room, pushed the table and carpet aside, and then sat cross-legged on the floor. It took a while to repair what my father and Clayton had destroyed but it didn’t leave me as physically drained as it had previously. Perhaps my spelling muscles were getting stronger.
With that done, I headed into the kitchen. Once I’d scrolled through my music to find a suitably rocky playlist, I spent the next couple of hours preparing tomorrow’s food and singing loudly. It was close to midnight by the time I went to bed, and to say I crashed would be an understatement.
But that didn’t stop the dreams.
This time, they weren’t filled with bloodshed.
Instead, they were warning of smoke and fire.
The café had been open for a good hour the next morning by the time Aiden and Monty arrived to claim their usual corner table. Monty moved like an old man, and his facial bruising had developed into a rich kaleidoscope of color, which made the white tape across the cut on his forehead stand out rather starkly.
Aiden’s gaze swept me as I approached. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Battered and bruised, but at least I look far better than Monty.”
“Roadkill looks better than Monty right now,” Aiden commented, amused.
“Oh, ha ha.” Monty gingerly leaned back in his chair. “I got a call from Ruby this morning—she said they were leaving. I take it they did their session with you last night?”
“Yes. Do you both want your usual breakfast?”
“Given the swift change of subject,” Monty said, “I’m gathering the process was unpleasant?”
“I had to drag up memories I’ve spent close to thirteen years suppressing—what do you think?”
“I think I would have spent the rest of the evening getting drunk.” He touched my hand lightly. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, but if it helps stop Clayton—”
“We’ll know in a few days what they decide. In the meantime, food—yes or no?”
“When have I ever said no to food? The usual, please.”
I snorted and glanced at Aiden. “You too?”
“Just a coffee for me. I ate up in the compound.”
I nodded and went into the kitchen to place their orders, then leaned against the counter while Belle made their drinks.
“Are you coming over to the table for a chat?” I asked. “It’s about time you took a break and got off your foot, isn’t it?”
“The foot’s fine, and I don’t want to give Monty any ideas.” She paused. “Any more ideas, that is.”
I grinned but held back my comment as she raised a warning finger. Once their coffees and my tea were made, I picked up the tray and returned to the table. I also raised the privacy spell around the table to ensure those nearby couldn’t hear what we were saying.
“How did your brother’s party go last night?” I asked as I sat down beside Aiden.
He smiled and slid one hand over my thigh, a gentle caress that had desire curling through me. “As well as any party with a bunch of rowdy fourteen-year-olds could. I’d rather have been here sleeping on the sofa, to be honest.”
“That’s the sort of comment grumpy old men make,” Monty said, amused.
I smiled and poured my tea out. “That’s because he is. He’ll be thirty this year, remember.”
“Positively ancient,” Monty agreed.
“Says the two people who are, what—a whole year?—behind me.” His voice was dry.
“Almost a year and a half in my case,” Monty said. “I was always the baby of our group at school. I think that’s why Belle has never taken me seriously—she’s got something against younger men.”
