Page 44 of Unforgivable

An awkward silence falls over the kitchen. The temperature drops ten degrees. I just hold Ezra's green-eyed gaze. I know my face is red, and my eyes are bulging. I probably look like a constipated squirrel.

Ezra just smiles and goes back to filling his plate with more food.

A moment later, Sarj is at the door, coughing horribly. We all freeze, the uncomfortable atmosphere immediately turning to one of fear.

Pups aren't anything like shifted wolves. They are vulnerable to illness and injury in ways that adults aren't.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" I walk to him and press my hand to his forehead. He's burning up. My worried eyes catch on Thjis.

"My throat hurts," the pup says raspily.

"Back to bed, pup." Thjis stands, walking over to us. "He gets strep throat a lot," he explains to me quietly. He scoops up Sarj and starts to walk towards the pup's room.

"Lyri, come with me," Sarj whines.

"Of course, bud." I follow them to the loft stairs.

"Careful, Lyri. You have your socks on?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Thjis' back. Inuit rolls his eyes enough for everyone in this house.

"I do," I reply. The stairs don't feel great, I'll be honest, but I just go slow.

"Alright, pup. Rest and sleep, OK? I'll get your medicine." Thjis tucks Sarj into the blankets while I look around the loft with interest.

Um... it's a mess. Not unclean, just... disorganized. And, I can see who's to blame for that. One bed, the one that doesn't have a sick pup in it, is tucked under the eave. A dark blue blanket is stretched out on top, and the bed is made with what looks like military-precision. One lone bookshelf holds textbooks and manuals that are arranged by subject and height. Height. No toys, not even electronics, litter that side of the room.

The other side is a disaster. Toys, mainly Nerf guns and stuffed dinosaurs, litter the ground. An upended box of Legos lies in one corner. A tower is built in the middle of the rubble. The bottom half of the building is in perfect rows of blue, red, and yellow. The top half is a mishmash of shapes and colors in no discernible pattern.

A sock hangs on the lamp. Its partner may be missing... forever, if the pile of dirty clothes is any indication.

"Ah, I'll be back," Thjis looks slightly embarrassed.

I just nod. I think I've found my project for the day. Smiling, I walk over and straighten the covers on top of Sarj. His eyes are already sliding closed, his face flushed with fever.

"Poor pup," I murmur, soothing his forehead with my palm. He sighs happily.

"Here, pup, one spoonful, then you can sleep." Thjis helps Sarj sit up. Sleepy eyes blink up at the big male.

"Tired," Sarj grumps.

Thjis turns to me. "They need help shoveling out the town. Storm's about blown out. We're going to go, OK? Will you be OK here with the pup?"

I nod, "just tell me what to do with Sarj."

"This bottle, every four hours. Keep him hydrated and let him rest. I gave him an antibiotic yesterday. He's due for another dose at about six tonight. If we're not back by then, it's in the bathroom." He indicated a door at the end of the space.

"If you get tired, baby, just sleep in Inuit's bed. He'll be with us."

I nod, doubtfully looking over at the pleated blanket. I'll never be able to replicate Inuit's bed-making skills.

"Stay inside, OK?" Thjis says.

"Stay safe," I return.

He kisses me on the mouth before standing and going down the stairs.

After a few minutes, I get up, listening to the sounds of the males getting ready to head out. I pick up some of the dirty clothes, finding the hamper under a pile of blankets that I assume are also dirty. Shaking my head at Sarj's sleeping form, I walk into the bathroom, only to come to a screeching halt.

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