Page 151 of Citius

Kelsey zipped up her suitcase and set it on the floor, her expression clouded with trepidation. “You’re sure about this?”

“Aren’t I better this morning?” I asked, giving Kip a kiss on the top of his head before getting up—slowly, because if I got lightheaded or lost my balance, Kelsey would cancel her trip in a heartbeat.

But I was doing better today. Sure, a headache was still percolating in the background, and I couldn’t stand for too long, but I’d eaten a bowl of oatmeal and berries without issue.

“Youseembetter, which will have to suffice,” she grumbled. Rolling her suitcase toward the door, she called, “Rory, you have until the count of three. One, two—”

“Wait, wait, I’m coming!” Rory flew across the walkway and down the stairs, his backpack and carry-on suitcase bursting at the seams.

Kelsey and I exchanged a knowing look. He’d probably raided the Beaufeather’s stockroom last night while we were sleeping, amassing a treasure trove of little luxuries that Jenna was bound to love.

I’d end up reimbursing Kelsey for whatever he’d swiped—and the spoiled brat knew it.

“Love you,” Rory said, laying it on thick as he batted his lashes and nuzzled my arm, then darted out the front door.

Kelsey followed at a sedate pace, rolling her suitcase behind her.

I followed them with my work bag, pausing to tell the cats to have a good day and locking the door behind me.

Rory hit the elevator call button and then nodded toward unit 602. “Do you bump into the guys a lot?”

“Not too often,” Kelsey said.

I nodded in agreement. “Our schedules are pretty different.”

“What, no early worms wriggling about, trying to catch a certain pretty, prickly bird?” he teased, bumping our shoulders together.

“No,” I said—just as the elevator door slid open to reveal Wyatt, in all his sweaty, post-workout glory, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt and inadvertently flashing his perfectly sculpted abs.

“Whoa,” Rory whispered under his breath, fingers latching onto my wrist to deliver a series of suggestive squeezes.

I tried to play it cool. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. From a distance. Years ago. Back when he was more of a teenager than a full-grown man. No need to stare—or mentally eliminate his lower stomach as a potential location for an Olympic ring tattoo.

“Oh, hey,” Wyatt said, tugging down his shirt as color flooded his cheeks. He hurried out of the elevator, intending to flee to his loft, only to double back and hold the door for us. He avoided meeting my gaze. “Heading to Tacoma?”

I shot him a pointed look over the tops of my glasses—how did Wyatt know about Jenna’s birthday trip?

“Yup,” Rory said breezily, solving the mystery as he sailed into the elevator. “Can’t wait to see her.”

Wyatt’s eyes flicked to mine for a split second, shoulders hunched around his ears. “They told me about it at the gala.” He gave my siblings a small smile. “Have a great time.”

“Thanks,” Kelsey said, pulling her suitcase into the elevator. She glanced between the two of us and smirked. “Keep an eye on her while I’m gone, would you? She’s been a bit under the weather.”

Wyatt looked alarmed, shooting me a questioning gaze, but since turnabout is fair play, I ignored him as I stepped onto the elevator.

“Uh—sure,” he said, brushing his damp hair away from his face. “Will do.”

“Good.” Kelsey gave me a knowing look before pressing the button for the garage. “Now I can enjoy my trip in peace.”

Forty-One

Morgan

While I didn’t vomit my guts out Thursday morning, the day could hardly be classified as an improvement. Not when I bumped into Owen first thing, looking well-pressed and razor-sharp, waiting for the elevator with his travel mug of coffee.

“Morning,” I said, because my autopilot was polite to a fault.

His flinty gaze swept over me—pallid skin, sunken eyes, and the cold sweat clinging to my hairline.

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