Page 72 of More than Need

“When you’re done, if you don’t have any prior engagements, can you check in on Gideon?”

“Sure?” Dawson said slowly. “Is he alright?”

“A common cold. I sent him home, but who knows what he’ll do when he gets there?”

“I’ll pack my hazmat. Will we see you there?”

Riley glanced over the pile of work on his desk. He would need to spend his afternoon delegating and likely take on many of thecases himself until the duo were back on their feet. He preferred having a smaller team to deal with, though at times like this, he wondered whether he should apply to get one or two more teams. Something to talk to his father about. “I’ll be working late.” He might end up using the couch in his office.

“And will we see you there?” Dawson repeated.

Riley thought about the picture in the third drawer of his desk, sitting there like a ticking time bomb. He couldn’t ignore it forever. He would eventually have to confront the fact he hadn’t gotten rid of it the very first moment he’d laid eyes on it.

How long would Dawson accept the distance Riley had enforced? How long could they avoid the reason they’d even met in the first place?

“Yes,” Riley said, sealing his fate. He’d sealed it the moment he’d kissed Dawson in his car.

Chapter 14

Gideon woke disoriented. Hesquinted at the ceiling in his bedroom. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, not his bed. He’d have staked his life on it. Except the soft sheets and warm covers were definitely his bed. Had he sleepwalked there? Could someone develop that later in life?

His head throbbed as he turned over. He couldn’t breathe through his nose. Christ, he felt like shit. Someone had cursed him, there was no other explanation.

He reached for his phone. Not there. He felt around. Still nothing. Blinking blearily, he lifted himself up on an elbow. No phone. Had it fallen under his bed? Wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

His ears perked up at the noise coming from his kitchen. Had someone come to rob the place? If they unpacked for him while they were searching, then they could have whatever they wanted. He suddenly understood what Ange had meant whenshe’d said he could have anything if he got her Soothers for her. Completely fair trade.

He stumbled out of the bed. Attempted to. Dizziness swamped him, his head throbbing. He sat heavily and held his head, waiting for it to ease. His jaw and hischeeksached. His eyes fucking ached. How was that even possible?

He didn’t bother looking for any pants; his dark-blue briefs would just have to pass as decent enough for the person trying to rob him.

He found something way better than a robber. “Dawson?” The soft black pants he wore clung to his hips, giving Gideon a nice view. “How did you get in here?” He could be a figment of Gideon’s imagination. So lost in his haze of illness that he’d conjured up the person he wanted most. He glanced around. No, if that were the case, Riley would be here too. He’d have noticed that.

“You let me in.” Dawson caressed Gideon’s arm and gently grasped his elbow. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I had to greet my robber,” Gideon said. He let him in? When? Gideon’s last memory had been getting home after he’d been sent there like a scolded schoolboy—though the memory did give him a brush of heat—and then he’d showered, set himself up on the couch in a weird replica of Ange just last week—minus the cocoon—and fallen asleep. Then he’d woken up in his bed.

“As a cop, I feel like you should know better. But considering you look like death warmed over, I’m inclined to forgive you. Sit down and I’ll get you something to eat, see if you can keep it down, and then it’s back to bed.”

Gideon sat heavily, both because they’d conditioned him to be good for them and standing had proven to be a challenge. “Did you carry me to bed?” he asked.

“Not quite, but I steered you in the right direction and tucked you in after I spent ten minutes convincing you to take your medicine. Would you have preferred I had?”

“I’d prefer to remember it.”

Dawson’s smile turned sinful. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll carry you to bed—while you’re awake, even.”

“I feel better now.”

Dawson laughed. “I’ll have to call your bluff, I’m afraid.”

Gideon couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a cold, and especially not one this bad. Sometimes in the spring he got hay fever.

He sneezed, and his ribs ached. He moaned and wrapped his arms around himself. “I think I’m dying.”

“It’ll pass,” Dawson said, rubbing his back. “Are you cold? Let me turn the heater up.” The familiar beeping from the thermostat sounded way louder than it had any right to. Then a blanket came out of nowhere, draped over his shoulders. His heart skipped a beat when Dawson kissed the top of his head, a soft, lingering touch. Even Lucia hadn’t been this tender with him.

He pulled the blanket further around himself, watching curiously as Dawson pulled a pot off the stove and poured the contents into a bowl. It smelled delicious. “What is that?” he asked.

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