Page 121 of Citius

I slipped mine on first before carefully perching his round frames on his crooked nose. Cal’s eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved into a watery, grateful smile. He made no effort to move.

“What’s your preferred hangover remedy—carbs or grease?” I asked.

“A bit of both, if you’re feeling benevolent.”

“That can be arranged.” After slipping on my discarded shirt, I grabbed his phone, tapped the call notification to redial Spencer, and set it on his chest with the speakerphone on. “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done?”

He nodded just as Spencer’s voice came through. “They’re driving me up the fucking wall. Can I come over?”

“Sorry, bud. I’m not home right now. Can you go for a run?”

“Wait, where are you—your office? I can do myhomework in a conference room. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

A bleary hazel eye cracked open, zeroing in on my backside as I shifted onto my knees. “Not today. Got my hands full.”

When he tried to cop a feel, I swatted his hand away, not caring if his nephew heard me. Cal’s appreciative chuckle filled the air, resulting in a tense silence on the other end of the line.

“Are—are you with someone?” Spencer asked as I left the room, both cats following at my heels.

“Mhm.”

Spencer’s voice went up an octave. “Did youfinallyget a girlfriend?”

“Maybe.”

I paused, standing in a beam of early morning sunlight, watching as the cats scampered after dust motes.

How long had it been—six, seven hours—and Cal was already dropping hints about me to his family?

Logically, I should march back into the library and pelt him with pillows for being so presumptuous—and obvious—but instead, I rose up onto my toes, raised my arms overhead, and let the warm fuzzies wash over me.

“Come on,” Spencer said, “who am I going to tell?”

“I don’t need you to worry about my personal life.”

Whatever Spencer said in response was blocked by my closet door, but it prompted a hearty chuckle from Cal.

I slipped into a pair of leggings and a sweater before washing my face and brushing my teeth, silently berating myself for not taking a migrainepill the night before. The headache wasn’t unbearable, but it was strong enough to scatter my thoughts if I wasn’t careful.

After grabbing my phone from the kitchen island and sending a few placating texts to Jacobi, I placed a large order at a popular local breakfast spot—fatty foods, waffles, and other easy-to-reheat options for when the trio upstairs decided to rejoin humanity.

Then, I put the electric kettle on and hauled out my basket of medications, taking a seat at the island to refill my pill organizer for the week.

A fully dressed but still groggy Cal shuffled into the kitchen moments later. He fiddled with Kelsey’s premium coffee contraption, managed to get it brewing, then made his way over to me, plastering himself against my back with a grunt.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“He just needed to vent.” Cal rested his chin on my shoulder, watching as I loaded my pill organizer with suppressants. “Are these all prescription?”

“Why—are there more than you expected?

“Yeah.” He picked up the bottle of anti-seizure medication for a closer look. “Surprised they’ve got you on this. It doesn’t always play nice with other meds.”

“It was tough finding one that didn’t give me side effects, but it’s been okay so far.” I recapped my bottle of suppressants and then moved on to my antidepressants. “Food should be here in half an hour.” I nodded toward the cabinet by the cat feeding station. “Medical records are in there.”

Cal toyed with the ends of my hair, studying my expression carefully. “You’re sure?”

“If we’re going to make this work,” I said, dropping the final antidepressant into the appropriate compartment, “you deserve to know what you’re in for.” My gaze found his. “Right?”

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