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“About the movers.”
I groan. A hangover pounds through my head and throbs all over my body. The coffee maker bubbles and huffs as it tries to brew me the strongest cup known to man. “Why the fuck would I be mad?”
“Good morning, little devil,” a velvety voice says behind me. “Or should I say afternoon?”
I freeze, my body going rigid. Aedon is here in my fucking apartment. I whip around, keeping my fist painfully closed to hide the bloody mess. I’ll have to stitch it later.
“We needed help,” Vivian reasons.
“I’m going to go do something else other than this.” Bella jumps up and runs away as fast as possible.
“On second thought, I think I can help.” Vivian scuttles after her.
Aedon and I stare at each other. I’m a mixture of emotions. A part of me is glad to see him. I would say I feel butterflies in my stomach, but it’s more like bats beating their wings so hard that each thud rattles my rib cage. The other part of me is anxious. I’ve never brought someone into my apartment, and my space feels invaded. I’m used to doing the invading, which I’ve done to him a few times now. My how the tables have turned.
“Let me see.” He pulls my hand to him and examines my palm.
“It’s fine.” I try to pull away, but he keeps a firm grip.
His finger trails the wounds. “You’ll need stitches. What happened?”
I detect a modicum of worry in his voice.
“I broke something.” I’m not sure what to say. We’ve slept together once, and I showed up unannounced on one occasion. Hardly anything to define. This isn’t some cute, tortured look. It’s just embarrassing.
David and Hermes exchange glances and carry more boxes from the dwindling pile. I squirm under Aedon’s gaze.
“Why are you here?” I regain my composure in the short absence of people.
“Vivian needed help. I didn’t know you lived here,” he assures me.
“Here I thought you had finally stalked me.”
He still has my hand in his. Somehow, he is warming me to my core.
“These could get infected,” he informs me.
“I’ll do it later.” I snatch my hand away. I turn to the sink and start picking up pieces of glass. He pushes me to the side and starts cleaning it up for me.
“No, I will do it later. Go back to sleep. I’ll clean this up. When we finish here, I’ll stitch your hand.”
I know there is no arguing the point. When Aedon says something, it isn’t an ask. I take one last look at the sink and then at the coffee. He pulls out the pot and dumps it down the drain, not breaking our eye contact.
“I’ll bring real coffee. Not this sludge.” His smirk melts my insides, but I try to remain impassive.
“Whatever makes you stop yelling,” I grumble and leave. Once the bedroom door is closed, I hear whispers.
“Did something happen?” Aedon says in a low voice, most likely to Vivian. I can almost feel her hesitance.
“I honestly thought she wouldn’t be here,” Vivian whispers loudly.
“Did something happen?” he asks again. I can hear the agitation.
“It’s fine. She goes on benders. It happens.”
I hear his displeasure hum in his chest.
I pull the covers over my head not wanting to listen through the blood pulsing in my brain. I must drift off to sleep because the next time I wake it’s to the smell of food. Good food, not take out. I rub my eyes, trying to remember everything that happened. It takes a few minutes of hard thinking to remember Aedon was in my apartment. Maybe it was a dream. Vivian must have left me something to eat.
