Chapter 19
Nineteen
L una was pretty sure they were over the limit for visitors.
She leaned over to Sabine, who had graciously given Luna one of the few seats available in the tiny hospital room. “Should I… go?”
Sabine looked down at her, surprised. “What? Why?”
Luna gestured helplessly at the room. Only she and Darren were sitting on chairs. Everybody else was standing around Grandmother Musgrove’s bed. Or in Leo’s case, sprawled over her legs. Grandmother Musgrove was pretending her foot was a snake under the sheets, and Leo giggled as he pounced on it over and over.
“It just seems kind of crowded. I kinda feel like I’m intruding,” Luna whispered. In a room full of humans, that would’ve been private. But she was in a room full of Musgroves, so everyone immediately chimed in with a chorus of denials from around Grandmother Musgrove’s bed .
Uncle Roy glared at her silently. He was leaning against the wall, one eye on the door.
“Anyway, the furthest you can go is the parking lot,” Ben added once the denials died down. “If you’re lucky. How far did you get last time you tried?”
Luna looked over at Oliver questioningly. The last time they tested it, they stopped when Oliver started stumbling from pain. She’d wanted to stop before that, but he had been stubborn.
“She could get past the parking lot,” Oliver said thoughtfully. “I think she could make it halfway home before I passed out.”
Luna laughed. Mostly to get the weird icky feeling in her stomach to go away. It had formed as soon as Uncle Roy rushed in announcing that they needed to go to the hospital right now and had remained as they drove with an unconscious Grandmother Musgrove in the backseat and Oliver white-knuckling the steering wheel so hard it almost cracked.
Uncle Roy spoke up. “Someone’s coming.”
Everybody looked to the door just in time for a nurse to come in. It was the same nurse as last time, a middle-aged succubus with a tail that towered over her stout head. Luna had to squint at her name tag again to remember her name: Maeve.
“Hullo, Musgroves and co.,” Maeve said in a dubiously Irish accent. “I’m just gonna do a wee checkup. Your doctor will be in shortly.”
Uncle Roy snorted derisively. “Has he treated a lot of werewolves?”
Maeve shot him a bright smile as she budged around the bed to check the machines hooked up to Grandmother Musgrove. “Dr. Gert actually ran a clinic for monster youths back in San Fran. You’re in good hands.”
“Oh,” said Uncle Roy, some of the aggression dropping out of his tight shoulders. “Uh, alright.”
An orc walked in wearing an impeccably fitted white coat, her hair tied in an elegant knot between her horns. She saluted them all with her clipboard. “Hi, everyone. I’m Dr. Gert. Mrs. Musgrove, how are you feeling?”
Grandmother Musgrove folded her hands neatly in her blanket-clad lap. “That depends on what you tell me next.”
Dr. Gert laughed. “Well, you definitely don’t need surgery at this stage, but I’m afraid we are going to keep you for a few days. Just to check your heart is still doing okay after that scare back there. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like I ought to get comfortable.”
Leo immediately scrambled up the bed and started patting her pillows. Luna couldn’t hold back a grin.
“Looks like you have help with that,” Dr. Gert said. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Let me know if you have any questions.”
She headed into the hall, Maeve the nurse on her heels.
Grandmother Musgrove laid back against the pillow Leo had fluffed up or otherwise punched into submission. “ Some of you have to go home.”
Another chorus of denials rose. Even Uncle Roy joined in on this one, though he limited his to muttering .
“Luna was right about one thing,” Grandmother Musgrove said over them. She twisted to look at Luna, giving her a warm smile. “We are a little crowded.”
Luna smiled back. She didn’t quite forgive her for burning the flower, but it was hard to be mad at a sweet old woman lying in a hospital bed. Once Luna got past the shock of it all, it was actually kind of touching. She couldn’t imagine her family trapping her with someone on the off chance that they forced her to improve as a person.
Grandmother looked over at Oliver next. He frowned before she could even say anything.
“Go home,” she said before he could protest. “Jackson can show you a thing or two about roof repair. But don’t touch anything unless he tells you to.”
Oliver took a deep breath, obviously about to argue.
She gave him a hard look.
The breath left Oliver in a rush. “I’ll come back tonight.”
He hesitated. Then he bent down and pressed their foreheads together, rubbing his skin against hers.
She held the back of his head. “Looks like you might have to be alpha sooner than we thought.”
“You’re gonna be alpha until I go gray,” he replied softly.
Luna averted her eyes. They were burning, she realized with no shortage of embarrassment. She sniffed hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried in front of anything except a movie screen, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Oliver straightened, looking expectantly at Luna.
“Coming,” she squeaked. Then she winced, hoping she didn’t just give away how close she was to bursting into tears in the hospital room full of someone else’s family. She rushed out the door, only pausing to squeeze Grandmother Musgrove’s foot through the sheets like Leo had been doing earlier.
Luna spent the ride home staring out the window at the thin layer of snow, thinking about the Musgroves showing her how they put snow chains on her rental car’s tires. Everybody had come out to watch Ben demonstrate, Oliver glowering at his side and not saying anything. Vida had pretended not to care, but Luna saw her taking notes on her phone. Darren had goaded Leo into a snowball fight with the aunts. Uncle Roy kept trying to interject with lessons on engine maintenance, which Sabine shut down with a glance at Luna that implied she knew just how much Luna knew about cars: a big fat zero. Grandmother Musgrove had stood at Luna’s side, rarely talking, so wrapped in shawls it looked difficult to move.
At the time, Luna was bemused and cold, and she was eager to get back inside and call her cell phone provider to see if she could talk them into being less shitty. She had barely paid attention to the lesson, still convinced she’d never need these skills and would be on a sunny beach within a week. She’d been wondering what these people could want from her. Now she knew they didn’t want anything; they just wanted to show her how to put snow chains on her damn tires so she wouldn’t crash into somebody else’s sign the next time she drove in the snow.
“You’re quiet,” Oliver said.
It took Luna a second to process what he’d said. Her head was still back in that parking lot, watching the kids pummel each other with snowballs.
“I thought you’d be grateful,” she replied.
“Oh, I am,” he assured her. “Just worried we’re having another medical event. You couldn’t deal with five minutes of silence on the hike.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, just because I’m not singing the Spice Girls…”
Oliver’s stomach growled loud enough to make her jump.
“Oh my god ,” she said. She let out a surprised laugh that quickly turned into a gasp. “You didn’t have breakfast! I told you to eat something before we went to Jackson’s!”
“I had toast,” he said quickly.
His stomach rumbled again.
“Shut up,” he told it, scowling.
Luna grinned. The anxiety from the hospital trip was finally leaving her. She didn’t know when Oliver’s scowl had become comforting instead of rage-inducing, but she was relieved about it. It made her feel like things were going to be okay. Oliver had been so pale in the hospital, so still and blank-faced as he paced at a speed that had Ben joking about him wearing a tread in the linoleum. She’d take scowling Oliver over blank Oliver any day.
Jackson was on the roof. He’d offered to come with them to the hospital, but when that got denied, he said he’d get to work.
“Hi,” Luna called up to him. “Oliver’s going to come up there later; he has to have a snack first.”
Oliver’s face twisted as she pulled him into the lobby. “I have to have a snack first? What am I, in grade school?”
Luna ignored him, dragging him down the Musgrove’s hallway and into their kitchen.
“Shut up and eat something,” she said. “What do you want? We got pop tarts, we have…” She poked at the solidified eggs on the kitchen table, which hadn’t been cleared in the rush of getting Grandmother Musgrove to the hospital. “Cold eggs. Cold toast. Oooh, we have cheese. Do you want a grilled cheese? That’s so comforting.”
“I’m fine,” he replied. He reached into a box of bran cereal.
They both grimaced. It sounded like he was chewing rocks.
“Cut that out,” she told him as he reached in for another handful of dry cereal. “Let’s make you an actual meal.”
She yanked open the fridge and yelled in triumph to see multiple types of cheese. “Aw, you guys took my cheese advice! You won’t regret it. A fridge isn’t complete without soft cheese, hard cheese, feta cheese, and weird blue cheese that only tastes nice if you pair it with something.”
“Luna,” Oliver said. “What are you doing?”
Luna’s grin dimmed. She ducked out from behind the fridge door. “I’m admiring your cheese collection. It’s finally adequate.”
“Darren wouldn’t shut up about it after your cheese rant,” Oliver said. He walked over and closed the fridge, leaning against it. “I can make myself something. Don’t worry about it.”
Luna kept her smile in place; however, she couldn’t help but let steel leak into her voice as she said, “Your Grandmother is in hospital. You broke your ankle?—”
“My ankle is fine!”
“—and you told your family something that’s obviously been crushing you for a full year,” she finished, voice rising. “So shut up and let me make you a grilled fucking cheese!”
Oliver blinked.
Luna slapped a hand over her eyes. “Wait, shit, I take that back. I was meant to be making this nice for you, not yelling at you. Go sit down so I can stop yelling at you.”
Oliver snickered.
Luna dropped her hand to find him laughing, head tipped back against the fridge.
“You’re exhausting,” he told her. “I can’t believe everybody thinks you’re just the party girl back home.”
Luna frowned, stung. “I’m not usually like this! I’m breezy . I’m cool . I’m…”
She floundered, fully prepared to start in on what she was like back home: poised and giggly, all fun all the time. The girl you called if you wanted a baby shower to be a hit without those creepy diaper games. People loved her back home. She was constantly invited to dinner parties, movie openings, and birthdays. Rooms erupted into cheers when she walked in. She wasn’t the person you went to if someone needed a first aid kit or a shoulder to cry on, but goddamnit, she was fun . She was so annoyed that Oliver made her not fun. Made her into the kind of person who yelled and gave away her last piece of jerky and knew how to put snow chains on her tires.
Oliver cut her off before she could say any of it, those dark eyes so soft on hers. “You could be.”
Luna groaned. “Loud and aggressive and angry?”
He cocked his head, considering. “I just don’t think you’re really… fun party girl all the time. Nobody is.”
Luna’s heart thudded in her chest. The bond was trilling, as it always did when Oliver was close. But her heartbeat was stronger, overpowering the vibrations thrumming down her ribs.
She pulled up another hasty smile. “Wanna bet?”
Then she turned toward the cupboards to hide the blush growing on her cheeks.
“Sit,” she told him, pulling open the cupboard doors and making a show of peering through the tinned goods.
A chair scraped out behind her. “If you’re taking requests, I’d… I’d really love some cheesy broccoli soup. ”
His voice was so tentative that Luna couldn’t help but look back. Oliver was sitting in his chair from this morning, toying with a shredded piece of crust from Luna’s plate.
“My parents used to make it with us,” he explained. “It’s one of the last memories I have of them. Cheesy broccoli soup is a Musgrove family staple.”
Luna tilted her head, considering. She’d had cheese in soup before and hadn’t been a fan. But if this was the Musgrove version of a comforting grilled cheese, then so be it.
“I can swing that,” she said, taking out her phone. “What do I Google? Do you have a favorite recipe?”
“I do,” he said, standing up. “I can tell you while we make it. Come on,” he added when she glared at him to get back in the chair. “I’ll feel better if I can do something with my hands.”
Luna looked down at his thick fingers. For a second, she thought about taking one into her mouth, telling him she had a better idea of what he could do with his hands.
Then his stomach rumbled again, and all thoughts of his big fingers were put aside.
“Fine,” she said. “What do we do first?”
He opened the fridge and handed her broccoli and a potato.
“Start with these,” he said.
Five minutes later, they had onion browning on the stove. Oliver’s doing, of course. Luna was still busy with the broccoli and potatoes. Oliver had to teach her first how to sharpen a knife after he noticed it was getting blunt. Then Luna got temporarily distracted by the eyes on the potatoes, which she’d never had to deal with before and spent an inordinate amount of time carving out.
She stood back, admiring her cutting board proudly. “Done!”
“Great,” Oliver said, looking over her shoulder. “Now we can…”
He trailed off.
Luna looked back at him self-consciously. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said.
Luna glared at him. “No, what? Those are perfectly chopped vegetables!”
“Uh-huh,” he said. He scratched his mouth, not quite hiding how it twitched. “Luna. Have you ever chopped a vegetable in your life?”
“Yes,” Luna snapped. She had chopped bell peppers and pickles for charcuterie boards. Cucumber for cucumber water. Fruit for late-night snacks. She was practically an expert in chopping.
“It’s fine,” he said, taking the chopping board. “Everything’s getting blended anyway, so it won’t matter that they’re chunky.”
“They’re fine ,” Luna insisted. She moved past him to watch as he slid her vegetables into the pot and then covered it with hot water. It hissed as it hit the pot, and Luna winced. But apparently, that was what was supposed to happen because Oliver’s face didn’t change once as he placed the lid on top and turned the burner down.
They cleaned the table as they waited for it to finish boiling. Oliver ate a handful of grated cheese, a cold piece of toast, and a few more handfuls of dry cereal until Luna threatened to pelt him with a cold fried egg. He ate another handful of cereal, and Luna seriously considered doing it before remembering she’d only agreed to make soup to be nice to the guy, and throwing a cold egg at him might cancel that out.
Cleaning was boring. Cleaning had always been boring, which was why Luna got a cleaner to do it at home. But Luna couldn’t help feeling a little satisfied when she stood back to see the table clean and shining, no crumbs or bits of egg left from their rushed exit. The pleasure of a job well done. Like posting a good story on Instagram and watching the likes roll in. Like Beth texting her that this week’s sales were even better than the previous week and it was all because of Luna. The most she did back home was secretly design a successful logo or throw a baller party. Cleaning a table and making soup was… small compared to that. But it felt good to think of the Musgroves coming back and finding a clean kitchen and their favorite comfort food waiting on the stove.
They added stock next. Then cream and cheddar. Then they blended it all with a stick blender that Luna did fine with until the very end when she pulled it out too soon, splattering half-blended broccoli chunks all over the stovetop.
“It’s all over my shirt,” she complained as Oliver swabbed soup off the stove. She picked a chunk of wet potato off her shirt and flicked it into the sink. “Ugh.”
“Don’t waste it,” he told her. He took a spoon and dipped it in the pot, bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.
Luna waited. “Good?”
He nodded, turning the spoon toward her.
Luna bent in. The soup was thick and a little saltier than she would’ve liked, but it was warm, cheesy, and cozy.
“It’s nice,” she said quietly. It sounded too earnest, so she cleared her throat and grinned. “Just like home?”
“Just like home,” he said quietly. His dark gaze dropped to her mouth.
Luna’s breath hitched. She kept her smile up. “Do I have soup on me?”
He shook his head and leaned in, dragging his nose down her cheek.
She squirmed. “Cut that out. I smell like cheese.”
“No, you don’t,” he said quietly. His hands settled on her hips, pressing her into the counter.
She shivered, tipping her head back so he could nose at her neck. “No? What do I smell like?”
He paused. His mouth was over her pulse point, breath flooding over the fluttering skin.
“Mine,” he murmured.
Then he dragged her in. The bond in Luna’s chest bloomed as their mouths met, her fingers tangling in his hair. His big hands slid under her thighs, and Luna gasped as he heaved her up onto the counter.
“Aren’t you—” She stopped, allowing him one more tantalizing kiss before pulling back. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He nuzzled her neck. Luna shivered as he reached her ear, biting the lobe and tugging.
“Starving,” he promised.