Chapter 27 #2
"Best go on then, so I can help if you need it."
There was a full-length mirror that occupied one of the bathroom walls. I tried to twist my head over my right shoulder, but the pain stopped me. Phoenix appeared at my elbow with a hand mirror.
Angry red ditches whipped across my upper back and arm, broken up by raised lines of white and black. The burn stretched across both shoulder blades, over and onto my left arm and halfway around my bicep.
I choked back a sob.
Phoenix's voice was soft as she said, "It won't always be this raw looking. The black areas of skin will slough off, revealing healthier pink underneath. But it will never be pretty."
I swallowed. "That's okay. I survived."
"Damn straight."
She coached me through the exercises, which hurt like hell, gave me a few instructions on what I should and shouldn't do to care for the wound, and left.
I sank onto the edge of the bed and sucked back tears.
Having a pity party wouldn't do me any good.
What would raise my spirits was seeing what was on that thumb drive.
Phoenix cleared me for loose shirts a couple of hours each day, so I threw on the biggest tee I had and marched to the front of the house.
I stuttered to a stop when I saw how crowded the living room and kitchen were. Like I'd stepped through the swinging doors of a Wild West saloon, everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at me.
Then, in an overlapping cacophony, they all said how glad they were I was up and about and that they were leaving. I felt like I got whiplash but didn't object. The front door clicked shut, and the house itself seemed to exhale.
Quin was in the kitchen, attempting to look casual and failing spectacularly.
"Why did they all leave like I was the boss breaking up a gab session?"
"They've been hovering." His head tilted. "Aggressively."
I shifted and pain bloomed as the shirt whispered across my skin. Quin tracked every change in my expression. He wasn’t staring the way people usually did when they were worried — frantic, helpless. His attention was focused, deliberate. Like he was memorizing me.
The awareness of it settled warm and steady in my chest.
"I'm fine," I said.
His ear flicked. "Don't say that. You're not fine. You're alive. It's different. You're allowed to be not fine."
I wouldn't cry over this. Not this. I cleared my throat and nodded towards the living room. "Were they all just... camped out?"
"Yes."
"How long were they here?"
He hesitated. "The first day was bad for me."
My stomach dropped. "Quin." I reached for him and he took my hand.
"They didn't want to leave you unprotected."
"You didn't think you could protect me and care for me at the same time," I guessed. "You asked them to stay."
A sharp dip of his muzzle told me I was right.
He pulled a dish from the oven and the smell of something warm and savory hit me. My stomach growled like it had been personally offended by my neglect.
Quin chuckled. "Hungry?"
I smiled. "Just a bit."
"Nanna left a casserole with a mild sauce she said shouldn't upset your tummy. And bread."
With a happy sigh, I said, "I love that woman."
"We all do."
His smile was all teeth, and I couldn't help but return it.
"She threatened to twist my ear if I didn't feed you when you felt up to it."
His movements were efficient as he filled a plate for me. I chose a stool at the kitchen island so I wouldn't have to worry about accidental contact with a chair back.
After making a plate for himself, he murmured, "I missed you."
I stopped chewing and swallowed. "I woke up literally on top of you."
"Yes, but you weren't really with me before then."
"Thank you," I whispered, "for taking care of me."
A growl rumbled from his chest. "You never have to thank me for that."
I looked at him. The care he took with everything, the way he held himself like he was aware of his size, his power. Him being gentle was an active decision.
“You could have walked away,” I said quietly.
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t want to.”
That settled something deep inside me.
When I couldn't eat another bite, I asked, "Do you have the thumb drive?"
His expression shifted to something dark. "I found it in your purse after Bacon drove your car here."
"You looked?"
"No." His ears flattened against his head and anger was evident in every line of his taut muscles. "You're the one who found it. I waited for you."
"I want to see what's on it."
He shook his head. "Not today."
I nodded. "Yes, today. I already exercised my back and arms to the point it felt like someone trying to flay me with a dull vegetable peeler. I can handle looking at files."
"If you're sure..."
"I'm sure."
He must have known I would want to see what was on the drive as soon as I woke up, because he had a laptop in front of me with the thumb drive next to it before I could blink. I plugged in the USB and waited.
Quin came around the island and took the stool next to me, scooting so close his leg pressed against mine.
My first instinct was to scoot away, to give him room. But the contact steadied me.
I stayed where I was.
"Whatever you need, you ask for. You aren't doing this alone."
I nodded and took a deep breath. The file explorer popped up, a single folder on the drive. Trial 55B. My pulse climbed. I clicked. The screen filled with folders arranged in neat rows.
I chose the first one and clicked. The file opened, and my stomach dropped.