When the sun had set again, he'd chalked it up to administrative delay. When the sun had risen once more, he'd started to get worried.
Then, he'd become resigned.
Now, he was in panic mode. . . .
Sitting on his ass, staring up at the figment of a dead female, he found himself wondering the same thing Tohr had so very often.
What more did the Creator want out of this?
"What are you looking for?"
As a deep voice interrupted him, he glanced across at the male in question. Tohrment had obviously come out from the hidden door underneath the staircase: He was dressed in black running shorts and a muscle shirt, and had sweat slicking his skin and dark hair.
Aside from the postworkout drips, the guy looked great. But that was what happened to 'em when they were well fed, well fucked, and unharmed.
The Brother lost some of that hale-and-hearty as their eyes met, however. Which suggested that he had the same worry just below his surface, lingering always, a chronic concern.
Tohr came over and sat down, toweling off his face. "Talk to me. "
"You getting any more dreams about her?" No reason to proper-name the "her. " Between the two of them, there was only one female who mattered.
"Last was a week ago. "
"How'd she look. " As if he didn't already know. He was frickin' staring at her right now.
"Farther away. " Tohr took the towel from around his neck and stretched it taut between his fists. "You sure that maybe she isn't just fading into the Fade. "
"She look happy to you. "
"No. "
"That's your answer. "
"I'm doing everything I can. "
Lassiter glanced over and nodded. "I know you are. I totally know you are. "
"So you're worried, too. "
No reason to answer that one.
In silence, the pair of them sat hip-to-hip, arms dangling off their knees, the metaphorical brick wall they were standing in front of blocking any horizon.
"Can I be honest with you?" the Brother said.
"Might as well be. "
"I'm terrified. I don't know what I'm missing here. " He rubbed the towel over his face again. "I don't sleep much, and I can't decide whether that's because I'm scared of what I'll see - or what I won't see. I don't know how she's holding on. "
The short answer was that she wasn't.
"I talk to her," Tohr murmured. "When Autumn is asleep, I sit up in bed and stare into the dark. I tell her. . . "
When the guy's voice cracked, Lassiter wanted to scream - and not because he thought Tohr was being a pussy. More like it hurt that badly to hear the agony in that voice.
Shit, sometime in the last year he must have developed a conscience or something.
"I tell her that I still love her, that I'll always love her, but that I've done what I can to. . . well, not fill her void, because no one can do that. But at least try to live some kind of a life. . . "