Page 22 of Out of My Flocking Mind

Harrison dropped his gaze, as though deep in thought. “You don’t think I could take care of you?”

“You don’t strike me as the nursing type.” I shrugged as I said it, not expecting him to take it too hard. We all had to accept the things we were good at and the things we weren’t. Harrison excelled at that silent glare, and was evidently extremely powerful, but a caring, mothering type?

Nope—not even a little.

Maybe that was why it surprised me to see him frowning. I’d said far worse to him before and he hadn’t so much as blinked, but somehow this bullshit marked the end of his world?

I might have cared at another time, but I really didn’t feel well. His fragile ego was not my problem, especially right now.

“I’m going to go lie down,” I said as I got up and off the couch.

“You should eat dinner first.”

I shook my head. “Food sounds like a no-go right now. A little sleep and I think I’ll feel better.” I didn’t wait for an answer before heading for my room.

I slept in fitful spurts. An hour here, thirty minutes there, but each time I woke, I felt the same. My head ached, my skin felt warm to the touch and, in general, the last thing I wanted was to wake up and do anything.

However, when the sun had set, a knock on the door told me my time of hiding away had ended.

I didn’t answer, but Harrison still walked in as though he owned the place.

Which, considering this was his house, I guess he sort of did.

Still, annoying.

I didn’t bother even rolling over, instead staying cocooned in the blankets of my bed. At least, I did until a heavenly scent hit my nose.

The world could be a frozen tundra of unhappiness, and I’d still venture out in search of the source of a scent like that.

When I rolled and sat up, I found Harrison there, a bowl in his hands.

“You need to eat,” he said.

“Did you order that?”

He furrowed his brows, his expression peeved. “Does it matter? When a person is sick, they should eat well. As a Mind, I am more susceptible than most Spirits to things like illness, so I know how to take care of it.”

I narrowed my eyes, not trusting him at all. It felt like a tiger bringing food to their prey—probably just a ploy to fatten me up.

However, one glance at the soup made it clear I was easily bought. The surface was translucent, with floating white ribbons of egg in it. “Is that egg flower soup?”

He handed the bowl to me, using one finger to hold the spoon in place. “It is. This soup is warm and gentle on the stomach. You need energy to beat such illnesses, and you need to eat to get that.”

The first taste told me I should apologize for what I’d said the night before. Even if he had ordered it, what did that matter? And while my smart-ass mouth wanted to make fun of him for this, I wouldn’t risk not getting more of this heavenly goodness.

I ate more quickly than I probably should have, but I couldn’t stop or slow myself. The tiny bites of corn inside, the subtle chicken flavor, it all blended perfectly and warmed me up from the inside out.

“You look better,” he said as he took a seat on the bed beside me. “The food and sleep must have helped.”

I nodded, speaking despite my mouth full and my cheeks puffed out like a hamster. “I’m still not a hundred, but I don’t feel like death anymore. Why? Do we have plans?”

“Not today, no, but tomorrow we do.”

“And what plans are those?”

“Do you fancy going back to school?”

I thought back to my olden days, when I’d gone to school, and shuddered. “No fucking thanks.”

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