“Did he ever talk to you about that night?”
“He said he was sorry, of course. But I didn’t know it was still a thing for him… I mean, he clearly saw Lash and the lessers as his own version of what he did to me. That had to be the reason he was in that robe. But I wish he hadn’t tortured himself so.”
Blay nodded. And then said, “Are you going back to your old house? Like he asked?”
“I don’t know.” Qhuinn frowned and shook his head. “I mean, of course I am. It’s just going to be fucked up to be there. I wonder what it looks like now.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“It’s too close to dawn now. And aren’t you on tomorrow night?”
“I am, but I’m sure I can get someone to cover.”
Qhuinn’s brows lowered. “I want to return to work. I asked Tohr. He said I needed to be cleared.”
“Medically? Oh, right. Mary.”
“Yeah.”
Blay wasn’t going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole—and as much as he wanted to support his mate, he didn’t disagree with the necessity of a mental health check-in. But there was no reason to bring all that up.
“What can I do to help you?” he said instead.
“You already are. Just by being here.” As Qhuinn yawned, the male’s jaw cracked, and then there was a long exhale. “I’m suddenly exhausted.”
“Why don’t you go to sleep?”
“Are you tired?”
These were simple questions, simple replies, every-day/every-night stuff. And like the proximity, physical and otherwise, the normal was something to be grateful for, especially as Qhuinn mumbled something about food: He wasn’t ready to go down to Last Meal yet, but maybe after a little nap, they could order something from the kitchen? Or at least that’s what Blay thought his mate was saying.
“Yes, absolutely,” he murmured in response. “And let me get off your shoulder, it’s going to go numb.”
Lifting his head, he repositioned the heavy arm he’d been leaning on. As he arranged the limb down at Qhuinn’s side and the male didn’t move, Blay was reminded of the times he’d found Rhamp in a tangle in his crib, face mashed up against the slats, butt in the air, one arm kinked under his body.
As he brought over the pillow he usually used and crammed it under his ear, he stared at Qhuinn.
And worried about what Luchas had tucked away.
If there was one thing Blay had learned about life in Caldwell, there was always another shoe to drop. And a lot of times, it landed on your head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Hands.
Hands were moving over Blay’s body.
Wait… maybe it was only one. And he knew whose it was.
His and Qhuinn’s bedroom was dark, the lights having been willed off at some point, and Blay was lying on his stomach. Next to him, Qhuinn was on his side… and the male’s sensuous palm was traveling across Blay’s lower back and sneaking around his opposite hip. With a groan, Blay rolled to his side, his ass finding the front of Qhuinn’s pelvis—and the erection that was there.
Maybe this was a dream.
Maybe this… which he’d missed for so long… was just something his mind had constructed out of sad desperation—
“Is this okay,” Qhuinn said in his ear.
“Oh, God…” Blay arched back and rubbed against that arousal. “Please.”