Page 4 of Altius
Ooh, willing cannon fodder. How convenient.
But before I could order the leering tomcat to get out, Cal clapped a hand on Joaquin’s shoulder, steering him toward the door.
“Move along, Casanova.”
While they grappled with each other, bickering down the hallway, Wyatt retreated to the attached bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“They’re being weird tonight,” I murmured, more to myself than Piper.
“Because you scared us all shitless.”
“Piper, I didn’t mean—”
“You never do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to Kelsey. You lied to our parents—toallof us—about how bad things really are.” Piper’s face flushed red as she laid into me. “You think sugar-coating everything makes us worry less, but it’s the opposite. It only makes things worse. Why do you have to push yourselfsohard?”
She paused, taking a ragged breath, and ran a manicured hand over her bun.
“And why—why—after so many years, are you still sofuckingobstinate?”
Tears stung my sensitive eyes. How could I defend myself when I couldn’t even think straight?
“That isn’t… It’s not—”
A strangled sob gave voice to my family’s worst fear. “What if you hit your head again?”
The last brittle link holding me together snapped. I pulled off my glasses and pressed my palms into my eye sockets, breathing hard, trying in vain to hide my weakness. But it was too late. The collapse was underway.
“I—I just want to go home.”
“I know, I know.” Piper held me close, stroking my hair while I cried. “It might take a day or two, but we’ll get you home, to your kitty boys, to your nest. But the best thing you can do for yourself right now is to shut up—and let those men take care of you.” She gently pushed me away, her face scrunched up in distaste. “After you take a shower.”
Two
Morgan
“Good news first?” Cal asked as I forced down my last bite of grilled chicken and broccoli.
“That implies there’s bad news.” I dropped my fork on the tray and gave him a pointed look. The bruise on my right wrist made holding utensils awkward, but it was nothing compared to the bruises on my knee and hip. “Just be straight with me.”
Wyatt collected my lunch tray and took it to the kitchenette.
He’d been carrying out small, helpful missions since last night—lowering the shades, bringing me an extra pillow, slipping me the salt and pepper when Cal wasn’t looking, refilling my water, and deftly manning the thermostat.
While there was a certain appeal to having a ridiculously handsome houseboy, I didn’t need Wyatt to skip work to care for me. Cal either.
But after losing three consecutive rounds of arguments this morning between blood draws and head scans, I’d surrendered. I didn’t have enough energy to stay awake and be stubborn.
“You can go home today,” Cal said, “provided you agree to a few caveats.”
“Let me guess,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair. “Constant supervision and a few days off work?”
“Correct.”
Needles of apprehension pricked my skin. “Don’t tell me Kelsey’s flying back.”
“No.” Cal handed me a wet wipe. “She’s agreed to stay in Tacoma and enjoy the weekend.”
“But Piper has dance stuff,” I said, piecing the plan together, the wet wipe dangling uselessly from my fingers. “Which means you’ve volunteered.”
