approval of his parents, but it was a relatively small price to pay to keep them off his back.
Plus, he hadn’t seen his siblings—aside from that delightful run-in with Aiden—in almost a week. It might be foolish to think that he could keep them safe, but at least if he laid eyes on them all in the same place he’d get a little reassurance. He sat up and waited impatiently for the room to stop spinning. “I’ll get back in bed after Mass.”
“You’re joking.” She stared, and he held her gaze. “You’re not joking.”
“Nope.” He pushed to his feet. “I don’t suppose you have any clothes that would come close to fitting me?”
She huffed out a breath. “You’re not going to be reasonable about this, are you?” When he didn’t answer, she threw up her hands. “Fine. I think I can scrounge up something. Try not to fall on your face while I’m gone.”
He waited until the door shut behind her to shuffle to the bathroom and turn on the shower. As tempting as it was to ask for her help to wash off, he had too much pride for that shit. He couldn’t follow through on any sort of desire right now, and it would be a damn shame to waste the opportunity if he got Callie in the shower. Not to mention he had the feeling that she’d jump on any chance to get his ass back to bed, rather than standing by while he left the house. No, he’d have to do this himself—and quickly.
Luckily, he was already mostly naked. He shucked off his underwear and carefully stepped beneath the hot water, gritting his teeth when it hit the cuts on his face. He scrubbed himself down, taking the extra time to make sure all the dried blood was gone, and shut the water off. The sound of Callie’s pacing reached him as he dried off, and he wrapped the towel around his waist before opening the door.
She turned, her hands on her hips. “You have a death wish.”
“More like a wish to be clean.” He caught sight of the clothes she’d dumped on the bed. Slacks and a button-down—fitting attire for Mass. “Thanks.”
“Do you need help getting dressed?”
Even if he did, he wouldn’t admit it. Pride was foolish thing, but he couldn’t shake it. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are.” She turned, her spine rigid. “Hurry up, then.”
He managed not to make a sound as he dressed—though twice he had to pause and wait for the black spots dancing across his vision to retreat—and he turned to the mirror when he was done, surprised that the clothes actually fit. He started to ask where they’d come from, and decided maybe it was better he didn’t know. If he was wearing her dead brother’s clothes…Yeah, he sure as fuck didn’t need that information.
“They aren’t Ronan’s.”
He froze, not sure when she’d turned around. “I—”
“You had a look on your face like you thought you might be wearing a dead man’s clothes.” Her smile was mirthless. “You’re not. Even if they’d fit—which they wouldn’t—I donated them months ago. It was too hard…Never mind.”
He sighed, feeling like the world’s biggest ass. She’d picked his unconscious body off the street, hauled him back here safely, obviously had a doctor see to him, and wasn’t standing in his way of leaving even though she didn’t approve. He forced himself to stop and take a breath. If her being worried about him made him uncomfortable, it was his damn problem. Not hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This isn’t exactly the easiest of situations. You’re doing the best you can—we all are.” She motioned to the door, her face a perfect mask of politeness. “There’s a car waiting downstairs. You should go if you’re not going to be late.”
She was right, but he was loath to leave things like they were. He’d hurt her, whether he intended to or not. Teague stopped in front of her. “Thank you, angel. Last night you went above and beyond the call of duty. I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving my ass where they dropped me.”
Her eyes flashed, the blue extra vivid in her anger. “That’s a downright stupid thing to say, and you damn well know it. I might not have been the one to choose you, but you’re mine, Teague O’Malley, for better or worse.”
He kissed her, the barest brushing of lips, and then he walked out the door, a stupid grin pulling his lips up. Even