CHAPTER 7 OZ #4
My entire body was filled with flutters, and my grin must’ve taken up my entire face. “Great!” I glanced at the clock on the microwave and grimaced. “It’ll have to be a short one.”
Shrugging he dug his spoon into the stew. “We always have tomorrow for the encore. This stew is delicious. How’d you learn to make it?”
“It’s my mom’s recipe.”
Our “date” was exactly what I’d hoped it would be.
Relaxed conversation, just getting to know each other.
I didn’t mention his healing abilities, and Manny didn’t bring up my kidnapping or captivity.
He offered wine, but I declined since I was on duty.
I also wasn’t sure what effect alcohol would have on my nightmares. I’d avoided drinking since the rescue.
Manny told me about growing up on the periphery of Rory’s grandparents’ wealth, and I told him about my difficulties communicating with my mother, and how my other parents and my siblings tried to work around her.
He’d had a couple of short-term boyfriends while he’d been in high school, but nothing since, as working nights during nursing school and now at his job had sucked up all of his free time.
I’d had one long-term boyfriend, a beaver shifter, but he’d taken a job in Michigan, and I hadn’t wanted to move with him. My voice didn’t crap out on me once.
Manny insisted on doing the dishes since I cooked, and his magic was already a little brighter, so I didn’t protest. I did stay in the kitchen though, putting away the leftovers and wiping down the kitchen table.
Then we went into the living room and sat on the couch to find something to watch.
Manny cuddled into me, lifting my arm and putting it over his shoulders.
My heart started to beat faster, and I was grateful Manny wasn’t a shifter so he couldn’t hear it. He glanced up. “This okay?”
“More than.” I reached over and pulled my grandma’s crazy quilt off the back of the couch, spreading it over both of us before putting my arm around Manny again.
He fit perfectly against me, which shouldn’t mean anything, but it felt right.
My badger preened that Manny trusted us to hold him.
“You don’t have to work again until Monday night, yeah?
” That would give him plenty of time to recover from today’s healings.
“Yeah. Four ten-hour night shifts, then three days off. I love my schedule.”
“Good.” If I got a full-time day job, Manny’s schedule would mean I’d barely see him until his weekends.
My badger whined at the thought, but I told him it was too early to worry about logistics like that.
I dared to kiss the top of Manny’s head.
He didn’t protest, and I hoped I’d be able to kiss him on the lips soon. Tomorrow if not tonight.
Wanting to avoid anything serious, we ended up watching the first couple of episodes of The Hex Files, a show Manny’s friend Jackson had recommended. I kept him tight against me as I wriggled down into the corner of the couch, my feet up on the coffee table.
The show was about a group of paranormal people—witches, a wolf shifter, a vampire, an orc, etc.
—who were trying to find a certain number of magical symbols that need to be drawn for a spell to heal the world or whatever.
In the first episode, a witch had one of the symbols on a necklace and she used it to heal people.
Manny kept up a running commentary, but when the second episode started, he closed his eyes within the first five minutes and pretty much passed out.
I turned off the show, but I wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet.
I ended up googling The Hex Files to see if the healer had any more episodes.
What came up in the results was a slew of authorized merchandise for the show on .
I found a t-shirt with the healing symbol on it and the phrase, “Don’t piss off the healer,” above the show’s logo.
Grinning, I ordered it to be delivered to Manny the next day.
I put my phone aside, snuggled against him, and went to sleep.
For once it wasn’t my nightmare that woke me. It was Manny’s. He tensed, curling in on himself and muttering, “No, no.” over and over again.
“Manny.” My arm was still around him, and it was past midnight.
“No. Look out!” He straightened his body, kicking out with his feet.
My hand on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him from rolling off the couch.
He woke then, panting and bracing himself with one hand on the couch cushion and one on my knee.
“Shit.” He rubbed his face and smiled ruefully.
“I was hoping to hide how fucked up I was until you were more invested.”
I sat up and put both my arms around him. “You know, I’ve been trying to hide the exact same thing.”
He chuckled. “I guess we’re a pair then.”
I kissed his cheek, and he smiled. “When it’s daylight out, we can compare fucked up nightmares. But for now, do you want to sleep in your bed?”
“No. I’d like to go brush my teeth, but I don’t want to be alone. If you’re staying out here, I want to be out here with you.”
Sounded like a good plan to me.