the back of his hand.
He surprised me by catching my fingers, even though his eyes were still closed. “Don’t give up,” he said. “It’s worth it.”
“What is?”
“Love.” He let go of my hand. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.
Poor kid. He just wouldn’t give up on her, no matter how much she hurt him. I wanted to shake her and make her realize she was screwing up a chance to be with someone who was a really good guy. And I wanted to tell her just to leave, break it off clean and quick so that Davy could grieve and heal and love again. So he could find someone who would be good to him. But I knew Tomi was in pretty bad shape too. I just didn’t know how permanent her wounds would be.
The wounded loving the wounded. How could that ever end happily?
I heard the footsteps outside the door before the person paused and pushed the door open. It was Sid, a cup of coffee and sandwich in one hand.
“Hey, Allie,” he said. “How’s he doing?”
“Sleeping.” I stood.
He nodded. “Looks like you got hit by a shit truck. Go home.”
“It’s suddenly clear to me why you’re not married, Sid,” I said.
He grunted, a short laugh.
“Call me if anything changes, okay?”
“No problem,” he said. “We’ve got it covered.”
I left the hospital and went home to make sure Stone wasn’t causing a riot. My luck held. Nola hadn’t come back yet. I opened my bedroom door.
Stone stood in front of my dresser, pulling one of my sweaters on over his head. He’d already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “Maybe I should give you to Shamus.”
Stone crooned, only one ear and one eye sticking out of the neck hole of the sweater. I pulled the sweater off him.
“Now your foot,” I said.
I don’t think he understood what I wanted him to do, but I am nothing if not a determined woman. And besides, there was no way I was going to let him stretch all my sweaters out of shape. Once free of my clothing, he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing.
Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.
I let him mess with the sink while I cleaned up most of the disaster in my room. By the time I got done shoving clothes back in my drawers, I was thinking Stone would have to learn a few new phrases. Such as “Keep your grubby hands off my stuff” and “Windowsills are not for chewing on.” So much for my cleaning deposit.
There was a knock at my front door, and I closed the bathroom door on my way by, hoping Stone would stay busy with the sink.
I looked through the peephole.
Zayvion Jones stood there, wearing his ratty blue ski coat, a black beanie pulled down over his dark curls. A warmth in my chest, more than just my pleasure at seeing him, spread out.
I unlocked the door, opened it.
“Hey, stranger,” I said.
He gave me a soft smile. “Mind if I come in?” He held up a bottle of wine and a cell phone.
His eyes were a little bloodshot, and even though it looked like he had changed back into jeans and a sweater, he didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep last night.
I stepped aside so he could come in. “You do realize it’s ten thirty in the morning?”
He glanced at the bottle in his hand. “Too early for wine?”
“Unless you like it in your cereal. Did you sleep at all last night?” I took the bottle from him. He unzipped his coat and pulled off his beanie, then scrubbed his head.
“No one did. We’ll meet again at five tonight. Thought you should know. Maeve wants you there. Not at the meeting. But in case she needs to ask you questions.” He rubbed at his face, muffling the last couple words.
“Calling someone?” I asked.
He frowned, noticed the phone in his hand. “Oh. No. This is for you. Compliments of the Authority.”
I expected it to be heavy from the silver glyphs that encased it, but it was light, compact.
“Thank you,” I said.
“My number’s in there. Maeve’s too, I think, and Shamus’.” He yawned.
I could feel his exhaustion wash through me. Okay, maybe there was