Page 16 of Over and Above

“Okay.” Magnus didn’t raise his gaze, and his voice sounded more resigned than anything else, which was understandable. This wasn’t a social call. And it was only one night. One night, and then I’d help Magnus work out a plan for the future, one that put him further away from my growing temptation to comfort him in ways that had little to do with housing.

Chapter Nine

Magnus

Sean shooed me away from the scene even before the fire department finished.The scene. That sounded way more clinical and tidy than the more accurate description of the smoldering remains of myhouse.

“There’s nothing more you can do tonight.” Sean’s eyes were kind, but I simply wasn’t in a position to process what that meant.“Take the dogs. Go to Eric’s. Get some rest.”

“I will.” My voice was wooden.Nothing more.The entire right side of the roof had collapsed, and smoke enveloped much of what was left of the house. Tomorrow, I’d need to worry about things like finding my fireproof safe with all my key documents. Because of how much I traveled and poured into The Heist, I’d always said I collected memories more than stuff, but I’d never expected that belief to be tested like this. However, at the moment, all I could focus on was immediate needs. “I’ve got leashes in the SUV, at least.”

“That’s good. Caleb can help you load them up.” Sean motioned to another firefighter, but I waved him away. Eric’s ambulance crew had already departed, but the firefighters continued looking for hot spots within the walls.

“I can handle it. I don’t think they’re likely to run again.” I rubbed my head, finally releasing my grip on the dogs, who, as predicted, didn’t budge from my side. “They’re probably hungry. Heck. Think the store by the highway is twenty-four hours?”

“Yep.” Sean nodded. “Do you feel up to going to a store? I could call?—”

“No calls. The fewer people who know tonight, the better the chances of Diesel not finding out too soon.” I forced a firm tone I absolutely did not feel, and it worked because Sean waved me on.

“Okay. Be safe.”

Somehow, I made it in and out of the store, collecting kibble, dog shampoo, and some treats to reward the runaways for returning home. As I headed to the register, I added a toothbrush, a pair of flannel pants to sleep in, and jeans for the morning. I had enough black T-shirts at The Heist to last a while. The SUV smelled like sour dogs, and by the time we reached Eric’s, I had just enough energy to grab the dog shampoo and find the hose Eric had mentioned. Fortunately, it was a warm July night, and neither beast was a stranger to a quick rinse-off by a garden hose.

Of course, afterward, my dress shirt was completely and totally toast, along with my pants. I would have preferred to make a better impression for a sleepover at Eric’s, but like everything else, my soggy state was out of my control. As I unloaded the kibble and my change of clothing, Eric arrived home.

“Hey. Sorry if I kept you waiting.” He handed me two towels from the back of his SUV like he’d had them there for exactly this reason.

“No worries.” I toweled off the dogs as best I could. “Needed to wash the stinky boys before letting them in your house.”

“Now you’re the one who needs a wash.” Smiling, Eric ushered me and both dogs into the house. As I remembered from my brief visit the week prior, his kitchen was large and welcoming, with white cabinetry, a large island, and a farmhouse-style sink. Eric took the kibble bag from me and set it on a table in the breakfast nook. “How does a hot shower sound?”

“Like a miracle.” I started to exhale, only to tense again as the dogs explored Eric’s pristine white kitchen. “I can’t leave Ben and Jerry though. They can be a handful until they settle. Most of the time, they’re lazy potatoes, but tonight was a bit outside the ordinary.”

“For you as well.” Eric headed for a hallway off the kitchen. He looked freshly showered himself with damp hair, and he’d replaced his uniform with a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt advertising Mount Hope football. “I never had a dog growing up, but Jonas’s dog Oz tolerated me fine. I’m sure your two will like me loads when I set out their food while you shower.”

“Thanks.” It was about all my weary brain could muster.

Eric opened the door to what would be the primary bedroom in most houses, a large, airy room with an attached bath, but the number of boxes in the room gave me pause.

“Yeah, I know.” He gestured at the unmade bed and collection of boxes. “The kids are after me to move back into this room. I’ve spent the last eighteen months or so in a little room in the attic near Maren’s old room. Moving back into the primary makes sense on paper…”

“It’s a process. I get it.” I’d been vaguely aware of Eric since before his husband died, and for all he revved my personal engine, I’d never presume to tell the man how to grieve. “And I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not. No one’s slept here since the room was Declan’s over the winter. I got as far as bringing the boxes in.” His mouth twisted as he kicked a box labeledWinter Clothing. “But this will work as a guest room tonight. You hit the shower, and I’ll make up the bed and hang a towel on the bathroom door.”

“Okay.” Still holding the package of flannel pajama pants, I stumbled toward the bathroom before collecting myself enough to add, “Thank you.”

Somehow, I went through the motions of a shower, collected the towel Eric had left on the door as promised, and fumbled my way into the pants. No T-shirt to be found. Eric would have to deal because my dress was not going back on. I made my way back into the kitchen, where my dogs were only too delighted to be dealing with someone who fed them giant portions of kibble in mixing bowls. Eric himself was standing in front of the fridge.

“Hey.” Eric’s eyes went wide from either my lack of shirt or my collection of tats. His pink cheeks said he’d definitely noticed both. “When did you last eat something?”

“Lunch-ish.” As usual, I’d worked through the dinner rush, intending to grab something later, but later had involved the burning of my house, so yeah. Lunch would have to do, but Eric was already pulling ingredients out of his fridge.

“Eggs okay?” he asked as a block of cheese joined the carton of eggs, a package of pre-shredded potatoes, and bacon on the counter.

“You don’t have to feed me.” I had to look away from the cheese so my stomach wouldn’t growl and give me away. “You’re doing more than enough.”

“I’m hungry too.” Eric was quite possibly lying, but I wasn’t about to stop a man who was already grabbing two shiny skillets. “I’m in the mood for eggs. No Wren this week, so we actually have some bacon.”

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