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The joke falls flat, since he doesn’t sound like he’s joking and he really does sound miserable. “I don’t mind. I’ll be over soon, okay?”
When I go back outside, fighting a frown, they’re all still seated and waiting for me. Corwin’s keen eyes track me as I retake my seat. I shake my head, subtly, at him, letting him know thatno, everything is not okay.
“Do you need to leave?” He asks, kindly.
“No, I can stay for a while yet. I’m going to head over to Nico’s later, though. Not a great day for him, I don’t think, trying to smooth over everything that happened on Monday.”
“You should go.” Sam bumps his knee against mine. “We understand.”
They would; all of them know how it feels to be so attached to another person that their pain feels like yours. Ishouldgo. Pulling my phone back out, I send Nico a quick text to let him know I’m on the way and to leave the door unlocked. Standing, I step behind Troy’s chair and hug him from behind. He doesn’t fight me, as he usually does, but lets me kiss his temple and ruffle his hair without grumbling.
“Love ya,” I tell him. “And the rest of you idiots.”
“Love you, too. Next time bring Nico and we can do teams for croquet,” Troy suggests, turning in his chair to look at me.
“I don’t think croquet is a team sport,” Sam muses. Pausing, he scratches his jaw. “But we could make our own rules, I suppose.”
“We’re going to have to do that anyway,” Nigel points out, waving a hand at the course Troy and Sam set up. As I step into the house, I hear them start to come up with their own rules and it makes me smile. I’m fully convinced that Nico needs a couple of solid friends in his life—people that have his back, no matter what—and I’m almost desperate to share mine with him.
It takes me a half hour longer to get to Nico’s house, because I stopped for food along the way. I know for a fact he didn’t eat anything this morning, and was probably planning on nuking a TV dinner later. Which is likely what he did yesterday, as well, if he even ate at all.
“You don’t always have to feed me, you know,” he tells me, opening the door seconds after I get out of the car and watching my approach.
“Iliketo feed you.” I toe off my shoes inside the door, nudging them out of the way with my foot. “I can’t cook so this is the only way I can do it.”
“Mm.”
I get a good look at him then, noting the pale face and blueish tinge under his eyes. There is a bruise slashed across one cheekbone. Dropping the food, I catch his chin and turn his head, gently.
“What happened?” Running my thumb underneath the discoloration, I frown.Jesus, did somebody hit him?He gives a frustrated huff.
“I was in the administrative section of the offices today, which is a place I’ve only frequented twice. I miscounted the stairs and tripped on the last one; caught myself on the wall, but not before I grazed the corner.” He waves a hand, brushing the whole thing off. “Nobody saw. At least, I don’t think anyone did. There are twelve stairs, not ten, in case you ever find yourself over there.”
“Ouch.”
“Hurt my pride more than my face.”
He hasn’t pulled his face away, but is allowing me to stand here and cup his jaw. Since this probably means I can get away with a little more, I lean in and kiss that jaw; I don’t stop until I hear him sigh and feel one of his hands brush my hip. Letting him go, I step back and pick up the food I’d abandoned.
“How do we feel about Mexican?”
“Very strongly in the ‘pro’ column on that one.”
“Good, because I got enough to feed a family of six.”
We don’t bother with plates, today, but open up all the containers and share between us. We talk about croquet, Troy, and pretty much every subject that doesn’t have anything to do with Nico. I let it slide because he looks like someone who’s beenkicked when they’re down, and I’m not looking to get in any hits of my own.
“I’m glad to hear Troy is doing alright,” Nico says, shoveling a forkful of burrito into his mouth.
“He’s not reading any of the comments and he doesn’t have any social media, thankfully. Unless someone stops him in public, he’s been pretty sheltered so far.”
“But you’re worried him about once the season starts.”
Chewing slowly, I nod. Of course he’d guess. “Yeah.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Nico says, echoing my words from earlier. Sighing, he rubs a palm down his face and pinches his eyes closed. “So, about Morgan and Hill.”
“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” I let him off the hook gently, but he shrugs.
