“You’re probably dehydrated. Your sister mentioned you two drank last night and that she forgot you don’t really drink.” Damn, my sister has a big mouth. “Have you eaten anything?”
“No, I slept all day,” I admit, knowing he’s right, that I do need to hydrate. I grab a cup from the kitchen and fill it with water. I gulp it down and fill it again then walk to the opposite side of the counter from him. “Thanks for coming to check on me. You didn’t have to do that.” I chew the inside of my cheek.
“I know I probably overstepped, but I was honestly worried.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Why?”
“Why was I worried?” he clarifies, and I nod. “I didn’t hear from you last night, and let’s just say if you knew my family and some of the shit that’s happened, you’d understand why I was concerned.” Okay, that’s vague and weird, and honestly doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy. And now I feel bad I didn’t message him last night that I got home okay. I don’t know why I didn’t. I debated about it but didn’t do it. “One day, I’ll explain it to you.”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Your sister seems to be all right.”
“I think last night with the help of vodka she came to terms with some stuff she wasn’t willing to admit to herself before.”
“That’s good.”
“It is,” I agree. “How’s your dad doing?”
His expression warms. “Better today. Mom’s driving him nuts. She’s refusing to leave the hospital, and he doesn’t like that she’s spending all day and night there with him. My mom’s stubborn, so until he gets home, it’s going to be a battle, but I’m sure Mom will win.”
I smile at that, because in the short time I’ve known him, I’ve learned how stubborn he is, and now I know he gets that trait from his mom. “I’m glad he’s doing better. Did the doctors say when he would be released?”
“Not yet. They want to wait a couple more days, just to make sure all his numbers are still looking good and his pain is under control.”
I nod and shift on my feet. It’s weird having him here. For so long, he was like a figment of my imagination, and then he became the person I looked forward to seeing every day, even if I would never admit that to him. And now… well, now it feels like things between us have shifted, and I’m not sure what to do or how to act around him.
A cold nose nudges my calf, and I look down at Retro then at the clock. It’s close to five. Damn, I really did sleep all day. I’m sure Cece fed my babies, but she doesn’t like taking them out on walks, because they don’t really walk. They meander at their own pace and stop to smell everything, and then they take even longer to get home, because by that point, they’ve worn themselves out.
“Do you feel like taking my girls on a walk with me?” I ask Talon, and at the mention of a walk, Mercury rushes to me and attempts to jump up on me, only to fall back to all fours and try again.
“If you make a piece of toast to eat as we walk,” he says, and I meet his gaze. My first instinct is to deny his request, but the look I see in his eyes lets me know he’s not telling me what to do because he wants control, but because he is concerned. And given the fact that I haven’t eaten since last night, I know it would probably be smart to put something in my stomach.
“I don’t really like toast.”
“You don’t like toast?”
I smile and shake my head. “I like bread, because bread is awesome, but I don’t like toasted bread. Well, I should say unless it’s slathered in Nutella, I don’t like it.”
“Good to know,” he replies, and I give him another smile before I go to the cabinet and grab the loaf of bread. I take two slices out along with the peanut butter then get the jelly from the fridge. Once I have my sandwich made, I take a bite and turn to him. “Can we go on a walk now?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, unfolding his large frame from the stool as I grab a paper towel. “So the dogs are yours?” he asks, squatting down to give them each some love when they make their way over to him.
“Mercury and Retro are mine.” I look down at my girls, who are soaking up his attention. “But you should be prepared before we go out.” My eyes widen when he looks up at me. “I mean on the walk.” I clear my throat. “They don’t really walk. They stroll and are normally too lazy to walk home, so… um… if you have somewhere to be, you might rethink coming with me.”