A low groan vibrated my chest, and I wanted to hide behind Tisdale’s legs, let her be the shield that protected me from the outside world. Not forever. Just for a little while. The childish impulse rose from out of nowhere, and it felt…nice…to trust a parent figure to do all the good things that old movies promised.
“Hadley,” she began in a maternal tone. “We need to discuss your current living situation.”
Expecting her to pitch life at the den, I demurred to avoid conflict. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”
As much as I loved visiting the den, and as fond as I was of a particular cabin there, I worked best here in the heart of the city. I hoped she would understand and accept that without any hurt feelings. I didn’t dare risk engaging her with my head so mushy. I was too afraid I might say the wrong thing and ruin our relationship.
I wasn’t sure I would ever call her Mom, as she had offered, but she was the closest thing I ever had to a real maternal figure. I didn’t want to lose her. Certainly not over a triviality like where I lived. I was sure we could find some middle ground, as soon as my eyes quit sticking closed between blinks.
“Of course.” She smoothed a stubborn curl off my forehead. “How about you sit right here?”
The couch appeared like magic in front of me. Or, no, had I walked over to it? It was all a blur.
“There you go.” She guided me down onto an undamaged cushion. “I’ll order in breakfast.”
“Mmmkay.” I tipped my head back against the pillows. “I’ll wait here.”
Bending down, she kissed my forehead. “You do that, sweetheart.”
Twenty-Two
The rich scent of café mocha tempted my eyes open, and I flung out my arm. I made a grabby motion with my fingers, hoping whoever had brought me the drink would be kind enough to press it into my hand.
No such luck.
They were going to make me work for it.
Forcing my eyes open to thin slits, I took in my surroundings with confusion. “Where…?”
“The infirmary.” Midas sat next to me. “After my meeting, I found you passed out on the couch with your head in Mom’s lap.” He flashed me his phone screen, but I was too blurry eyed to focus on the shot. “It was adorable. I took a picture for my wallpaper.”
Grunting at him, I flexed my hand until he put the warm cup within reach. “Need coffee.”
“You need to sit up first, or you’re going to pour it all over yourself.”
Grunting at him again, I wiggled my fingers more, hoping he would show mercy.
“Let me help you.” He took my hand, slid an arm behind my back, and finally handed me the cup. “There we go.”
With him keeping me from slumping back, I drained the whole thing in one long gulp.
Casual as you please, Midas leaned down to whisper in my ear. “How do you feel about a jailbreak?”
“Abbott—”
“Abbott is asleep in an exam room down the hall. He’s been staying here so he can keep an eye on you.”
“I must be dreaming.” I gazed into my empty cup. “Dream coffee ought to refill itself.”
“You’re wide awake,” he promised. “We can always wait on Abbott to clear you, if you prefer.”
“Why are you willing to help me this time?” I narrowed my eyes. “This is all very suspicious.”
Usually, he was the first in line to drag me to Abbott for treatment, whether I wanted to go or not.
And believe me, I never wanted to go.
“Hadley.” He took my cup and set it aside. “You’ve been asleep for eight days.”
Laughter burst out of me. “Good one.”
Midas sat, his expression set, and waited for it to sink in.
“W-w-what happened?” Panic spiked, and I clutched his forearms in a death grip. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He removed my claws from his skin. “You’re fine too.”
Across the room, Ambrose materialized in his mostly Hadley shape and nodded once to me.
I nodded back.
He vanished, taking my shadow with him, which wasn’t weird. At all.
“You wore yourself out,” Midas explained, “absorbing so much power then flushing out your system.”
Compared to the severity of my usual injuries, I was almost embarrassed to have been laid up for so long with a case of the overdone-its. “That’s it?”
“You were exhausted,” he confirmed. “That’s all.”
For once, Abbott must have been thrilled with my diagnosis. “What about you?”
“I brought you here and passed out in a chair.” He chuckled. “I woke up two days later.”
Midas had been given the least of the magic. I was used to the cycle, and I had built up a high tolerance. I had held and expended most of the run-off energy from Ambrose without Midas’s help. Only the overflow from severing the tethers had washed into Midas, and we had figured out how to expend that quickly.
But now that those channels had been cauterized by the magic exchanges, I doubted we could stop a trickle from pouring into Midas every now and then. I regretted it, but it might be for the best. For him to fall into sync with Ambrose and me a bit at a time would be safer for him long-term than the trial by fire he had endured in the archive.
“I have more café mochas and a bag of chocolate croissants.” He scooped me up in his arms. “Make it to the shower, and they’re all yours.”
The lack of tubes and wires tethering me to the bed made me question the spontaneity of this escape plot.
Ambrose had been mighty accommodating too, popping in then poofing just as fast.
“Are you, by any chance, implying I stink?” I jabbed him in the abs. “That I need to take a shower?”
Expression serene as he carried me into the elevator, he told me, “I love you no matter how you smell.”
A sponge bath could only do so much, but I had been cleaned. “But you are saying I smell?”
No one else called the elevator, and we shot to the top of the building in a blink.
“I do have a hypersensitive nose.”
He let us into our apartment and set me down in front of the bathroom door.
Hint. Hint.
“Mmm-hmm.” I toyed with the ties on my hospital gown. “I was going to invite you to join me but—”
Midas had his shirt yanked over his head before I finished the taunt. “I accept.”
“I don’t know.” I lifted my arm and sniffed my pit. “I should probably wash alone so as not to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
“If you never bathed again, I would still love you.”
“But would you still sleep with me?”
“Define sleep.”
“You planned this,” I realized. “You orchestrated my prisonbreak with Abbott, didn’t you?”
“Define orchestrate.”
“Does he think I stink too? Was I smelling up the infirmary? Were other patients complaining?”
“I bribed him with a new MRI machine, the item topping his wish list, for his cooperation.”
“You conned him into unhooking me and then stood over me until I woke?”