Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SYLVIE
We slept for most of the day, waking to the smell of marinara and melted cheese to find a pasta casserole from a nearby takeout place warming in the oven. A note was stuck to the counter.
Eat. Hydrate. Go back to bed.
Follow orders, or your babysitters will be back.
M and W
“I didn’t realize they left,” I said, smiling down at the note. Looking around, I saw that we were alone in the apartment. My stomach growled.
“Food,” Eli said beside me.
“Definitely,” I agreed.
I served up huge portions, and we carried them to the table. I sank into the chair gratefully. Every time I woke, I was steadier—my throat less raw, my head less tender. I wasn’t back to normal yet, but I was getting there.
The second the tang of the marinara and the delicious, savory cheese hit my tongue, my appetite flared to life.
When I shoveled in the first bite, my taste buds sang with joy, my empty stomach demanding more.
I didn’t watch Eli eat and hoped he wasn’t looking at me, my hunger defeating any attempt at table manners.
When the plate was empty, I sat back, my hand over my very full stomach, and let out a sigh. Looking across the table, I saw Eli in much the same position, his eyelids drooping.
I thought of the note Miranda and Wren had left. Eat, check. Hydrate—there were bottles of water in the fridge. And sleep. How could I be tired again?
Half an hour ago, I might have said there was no way I could go back to sleep. Not so soon. I’d spent so much time out cold in the last few days that I had to be topped up on sleep, but now that my stomach was full, a nap sounded like heaven.
“Bed,” Eli said, echoing my thoughts. “I shouldn’t still be so wiped out, but?—”
“It’s not just you,” I assured him. “You grab the plates. I’ll grab the water.”
“Works for me.” He rose, following me to the kitchen. The plates clattered in the sink. I grabbed four bottles of water, handing Eli one, tucking two under my arm, and opened the fourth, drinking as I walked. My eyes wanted to close, fatigue already weighing me down.
We crawled back in bed. Eli grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. I curled into him, my head on his chest, his arm holding me close, fingers tugging gently at the end of my braid. He settled on an action movie I’d seen years before, and I let out a hum of agreement.
My eyes were sliding shut before we got to the first commercial.
By the time the detergent jingle ended, I was out.
I surfaced later, my bladder demanding a trip to the bathroom, and slid back in bed, cuddling into Eli.
His arms tightened around me in his sleep, his lips shaping my name on a soft exhale as they brushed the top of my head.
So many things pressed on us. We still hadn’t caught the bomber. We didn’t know what Ghost Trace was or where to find Silas. And all of that aside, I had my burned-out van to deal with, and my as-yet-unrecorded next season.
None of those worries kept me awake. I’d deal with the rest later. No, I was pretty sure we’d deal with the rest. Later.
I slipped back into sleep, content exactly where I was, wrapped in Eli’s arms.
Later came eventually. Another day of sleep and food, cuddling and watching old movies, before Miranda came in, scanned us, and declared we were allowed up and about—with a warning that at the first hint of a headache or fatigue we should go straight back to bed.
“Don’t be a hero and set back your healing,” she ordered, her gray eyes sharply assessing.
“Yes, ma’am,” Eli said with a wink.
She muttered something that sounded like pain in my ass and shook her head.
“Can I have my laptop?” I asked.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fielded that query from me. Finally, I got a quick grin instead of a somber shake of her head. “Yes, if you promise you’ll close it as soon as your head starts bothering you.”
I lifted a hand. “Scout’s honor. It only just stopped hurting. I have no intention of bringing that headache back.”
Miranda turned and disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with my laptop.
“Take it easy,” she said, her eyes on Eli. “I mean it. I’ve got to get back downstairs. You can work, but stay out of the office for another day.”
“You guys made any headway?” Eli asked.
“On what?” Miranda asked with a wry twist to her lips. “The guy who tried to blow you up, Silas disappearing into thin air, or whatever the hell Ghost Trace is?”
“All of the above,” Eli said.
Miranda shook her head. “Maddox and Emmett are still digging, but they haven’t come up with much. Wren is hunting down Ghost Trace. I don’t think she’s found anything. She’ll be up later. You can ask her.”
“Are we cleared to leave the building?” Eli asked, one eyebrow raised.
“No,” Miranda said sharply. “Not yet.”
A muscle in the side of Eli’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue.
“Stay out of trouble,” Miranda ordered before turning to head down the hall.
Eli got out of bed and followed. He returned only moments after he left.
“Where’d you go?” I asked.
“Making sure the door was locked and we’re really alone.” He flipped back the covers and slid into bed, pulling my laptop from my hands.
“Hey, I just got that back.” My fingers closed tight, too late to keep hold of it.
“You can have it,” Eli said. “But not yet.”
At the look in his eyes, my brain disengaged from the idea of research, locking onto the heat in his gaze.
“Oh,” I said, a flush hitting my cheeks.
I caught a flash of Eli’s grin as his head dipped, his lips skimming across mine.
“I don’t know how long they’ll give us on our own. We should take advantage,” he said.
His lips slid along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to nuzzle my collarbone.
I pulled at his T-shirt, and he sat up, stripping it off.
I did the same with my nightshirt, tugging him down, loving the scrape of his chest hair against my nipples and the low growl in his throat as he hooked his hands in my underwear and tugged them over my hips, his long, hard body against mine.
He was everything I wanted. Eli lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes hot with more than desire.
“When the bomb went off,” he said, “and half the wall came down, I thought you were dead. Your eyes were closed. You were bleeding. My ears were ringing. I couldn’t tell if you were breathing. I thought?—”
The moment came back to me as he spoke, a mini-avalanche of noise, pressure. Pain. Eli, on top of me, protecting me. My raw fear for both of us. I pulled him closer, even though we were already as close as two people could be.
He shook his head and raised his hand to cup my cheek. “Sylvie. This is fucking terrifying.”
“Why?” I breathed, my heart so full from this man. I covered his hand with mine, holding him to me, hating that he was afraid and loving the reason why. He was making up for his lies with a kind of bare honesty that hooked me deep.
“You’re so much to lose,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Too much. You’re everything. And I was holding you away, so it wouldn’t hurt as much when it went bad.
But then I thought you were gone, and I knew trying to save myself was useless because I was already in love with you.
And this…” Eli stroked his knuckles over my cheekbone with a reverence that melted me.
“This feels like the second chance I don’t deserve, but I won’t waste it. ”
His mouth on mine was slow and sweet. I threaded my fingers into his hair and held him there, connected.
His hands touched my body, and we moved together like we’d known each other a lifetime—unhurried, savoring every touch, every breath.
I wrapped my arms around him again, stroking down the smooth skin of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles under my hands as he filled me over and over in a gentle rhythm, building the pleasure slowly, careful not to jostle my head or my bruised body.
I wouldn’t have cared. It was so good, so perfect, I didn’t think I would have felt an ache if one had dared to appear, but Eli wasn’t taking any chances.
The last traces of fatigue fell away, chased out by bliss.
Eli followed me when I came, my name on his lips.
After, he tugged me out of bed and into the shower.
Standing under the spray, he washed me from head to toe, his eyes cataloging every scrape and bruise.
When I was clean, I did the same, lingering over all that was Eli.
His back was a mess of bruises, and his forearms had minor burns, but overall, he’d escaped with fewer injuries than me.
At least we were both better than we had been.
Clean and almost fully functional, we pulled on clothes, and Eli floated the crazy idea that we camp out on the sofa in the living room like normal people. I grabbed my laptop and followed him.
“What are you doing?” he asked when I got comfortable and flipped the screen open.
“I don’t know, honestly,” I said. “I feel like I should work on the next season, but I can’t get my head in it.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do about your van?” Eli asked, his eyes heavy with an uncertainty I wasn’t sure I understood.
“Not really,” I said. “Not yet. I’ll have to start looking for a new one, I guess.
And figure out where to live while I fix it up…
” My voice trailed off as I remembered I had more problems than just the assassin sent to kill me and my lack of a new season for my podcast. I was homeless, and almost everything I owned had been burned to ash.
Eli cleared his throat, looking more unsure of himself than I’d ever seen him. “I have an idea about that.” He reached out to close his hand around mine, squeezing before turning his palm and staring down at my fingers, twining his through mine. “Move in with me.”
“What?” I asked, my brain stalling at his suggestion.
On the face of it, the idea was insane. We barely knew each other. It had been… I counted. Eight days since we met. And yes, I’d fallen in love and so had he, but it was way beyond too early to move in together.