Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 46

Still a bit chilled, but no longer freezing, I emerge from the shower, dress myself in Julian's slightly-too-large clothes, and rejoin the others in the living area. As I do, a host of smells wash over me that tell me two things: first, I've been spared my toaster-waffle fate; second, Freya is here.

She stands at the stove, apron-clad and spatula in hand, and when she spots me she drops her utensil and crosses the room in a few quick steps, catching me in another of her signature death-hugs.

I return it as best I can, and wait for her to let me breathe.

"Oh, Nono," she says, using the childhood nickname she used to call me. "What in hell happened? You were so happy the other night—both of you. I might not have found it for myself yet, but I damn-well know love when I see it, and that man is in love with you. So what fool thing has he gone an' done?"

She releases me, pushing me away to arm's length to study my face.

"I'm not sure," I admit, blinking against the sting in my eyes.

The night before last, Ambrose had been so intense and passionate, and then so caring and sweet. All of that had changed after I found him with Brutus, though, and I didn't know why. Then he'd grown distant and detached, withdrawing into himself and leaving me—literally—out in the dark.

"Well, let's get some food in you and then you tell us everything, got it?"

I nod, although honestly there isn't much to tell.

Freya steers me to the dining area, where Dane and Julian already wait (Julian having been banished from the kitchen), while Dougal sleeps in a contented sprawl at their feet, belly full at last.

A number of dishes are already on the table, and as I lift the cover of one to peer inside, Freya explains that Grace made most of it.

"Damn, but that girl can cook," she exclaims, returning to the stove and whipping scrambled eggs before pouring them into a hot pan. "I don't know how she's stays so damn skinny eating like this, though. I think I gained five pounds just from looking at it."

Under the various lids I discover a smoked trout hash with russet potatoes, biscuits and gravy, and pecan sticky buns. A moment later, Freya brings over a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs made with sour cream and dill and a steaming pot of fresh coffee.

"Well, help yourself," she commands, pushing the plates towards me. "Good thing I took Gracie up on her offer to share all this. Toaster waffles," she scoffs.

"I like toaster-waffles," Julian mutters, and Dane, who's been absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, gives him a gentle squeeze but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Obediently, I serve myself a plate and the others follow suit, and for a while we just sit and eat. I know the food is delicious, but my appetite is strangely muted, and I barely taste any of it, earning looks of disapproval and concern from Freya when I don't finish what's on my plate and refuse her offer of a second helping.

"Alright, so spill it," she says, leaning back with her arms crossed when I finally push my plate away, having taken only a few bites of each dish. "What happened?"

I tell her, leaving nothing out, but it doesn't take long.

I got home, found my stuff on the lawn, got thrown out by my Mate, and spent a night being pathetic in the rain.

Freya frowns when I finish and eyes me thoughtfully. "So, he figured something out," she says. "After you found him with the body he got some idea—what was it he said? That he was gonna 'check on something,' right?'