Page 24 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
“I guess for someone who didn’t have most emotions till recently, you haven’t had to use coping mechanisms.”
I closed my eyes and felt him move next to me, scooping me into his arms. I gasped slightly at the sudden change in altitude but I didn’t open my eyes. I was worried that if I did, the blurring in my eyes would set off a chain reaction of losing my lunch.
He moved me to the couch and pulled a blanket down on me, then walked to the kitchen. I felt a cold glass press into my hand and I eagerly downed it.
The post magic hangover is real. Real healers can do this all day and go home a bit winded. I hadn’t really had to access energy like that in a bit. I cracked my eyes, glaring at him as much as I could, given my current less-than-scary state.
“Please don’t strain yourself,” I asked. “Please don’t undo my work ’cause I cannot do that again.” What I didn’t add would be how hard I would kick his ass if he did that again in the next few days.
“I feel like I could run a marathon right now. Whatever you did just juiced me up. And I told you, your skinny ass isn’t heavy.” A slight smile graced his face.
“That’s what every girl wants to hear,” I breathed. My eyes were still closed to avoid the spinning of the overhead lights, and I was hunched in a ball to fight off the cold sweats.
He snorted, putting a hand on my head.
I put the glass down, then closed my eyes again.
The next time I opened them, it was 7am the next morning and the sun was beating through my window into my eyes.
I started and jumped up, peeling back the blanket. My magic happily blinked back at me from within. I was at home. It was morning. Why was I on the couch again? Oh wait. Damien. Bad things happen when certain limits are pushed.
His coat was still here but where was he? I stopped in the kitchen to refill the water glass and chugged it again.
I stopped at my bedroom. He was in my bed, shirtless and sound asleep. Well. OK then. Slightly intrusive horsey.
I padded to my drawers quietly and took out a new set of clothes, making a beeline to the bathroom. A hot shower on top of a full night’s rest can do wonders.
One very hot shower later, I was dressed and fresh-smelling.
I pushed a button on the coffee maker and took out the eggs, bread and bacon and got to work. At eight, when the French toast was ready, I walked to my own door and knocked soundly.
He opened a groggy eye.
“I’ve got coffee?”
He nodded and threw back the covers, hastily pulling on his pants from yesterday to cover his boxers.
I gestured to the plate on the table. Bacon and French toast with a nice dark roast.
I had my feet up in the adjacent chair, sipping my magic bean juice with some milk. He wandered in and gave the food an appreciative look.
“I don’t think I’ve had a homemade breakfast in years.” He started ripping into the food.
My eyes bugged slightly. “I’m no professional chef but this leads me to ask what you eat at home?”
“Usually some sort frozen breakfast sandwich?”
“You don’t really cook for yourself.” It was less a question and more like a statement of incredulity.
“Why do you think I have to get coffee every morning? I have a maker in a box but never turned it on.” He started munching through the bacon like it’d run away.
“You go to see my beautiful elven coworker and cause our cold brew is amazing,” I said smugly. It was nice to be appreciated.
He groaned and looked at me with a slightly disquieted gaze. “Oh that again. She’s cute but I’m all set.”
I looked at his plate and all the contents had disappeared.
“Do you have any more?” he asked a bit guiltily. I looked at him with a touch of pity. It’d clearly been a while since someone else had cared for him.
