FOURTEEN
“Are you sure you are okay with me staying at your place?” He asked one last time before closing the subject as they arrived.
“I still think it’s the safest bet. No one is going to look for you here, and centered or not, you have had some trauma tonight. It would be better if you could rest a bit before having to engage in any additional altercations. By the time I reached you, no one else was around, so, unless they were using a telephoto lens, nobody knows that you’re with me.” She rationalized. “They don’t know that you are up, or out to be looking.”
Walking in, it was no surprise that her condo was ordered and organized. While the color choices were distinctly feminine, they did not overwhelm him. Instead, they were blended in such a way to make the smaller spaces seem more open. Which, was a very good thing. He was already a big man. A big man feeling confined spelled trouble.
After she set her things down and turned, he snared her waist and pulled her to him, sealing his lips to hers. She didn’t pull away, but she was obviously surprised by her wide eyed expression. He broke the kiss laughing.
“What was that?” She challenged.
“That was ‘Thank you.’”
“You’re welcome.” She giggled. “You can thank me again later. Right now, I would guess you want to clean up. This way…” She led him to the second floor and a surprisingly neutral guest room. “If you’d like to take a shower, I can throw your clothes into the wash. I’m afraid I don’t have anything remotely close to your size.”
Wrapped in a blanket, he handed her his now dry, but very dirty clothes from the evening. She disappeared pulling the door. After she left, he stood under the shower until the hot water ran out. Even so, she had not returned with his clothing before he emerged. He laid across the bed from corner to corner, his feet still hanging over the edge.
Eventually, he pulled the top mattress and linens, opting for the floor. He’d heard the springs and frame creak with every slight movement. He was concerned that he would end up breaking it if he stayed.
Wrangling with what to do about the power grab, the worry chased him into a fit-filled slumber. Somewhere between asleep and awake, before he woke to full consciousness however, he calmed, eased by a lullaby he did not recognize.
It was still dark when he reawakened. He wondered absently what time it was. He chuckled to himself at the lingering memory of the lullaby, and that it wasn’t Genie in a bottle.
Wrapping himself in the blankets, he followed a distant humming down the stairs. The sound was horrid. Whomever was doing it, couldn’t carry a tune to save their life. Who else was here? He debated finding his clothes before searching out the source, convinced it could not possibly be Fynn. The out of tune, no melody to be found vocalist needed to be absolved of the notion that they should continue.
Rounding the corner at the kitchen, he stopped short. It was Fynn. As improbable, and unlikely as it seemed, it was definitely her humming an awful tune as she did dishes. “What’s wrong with your voice?” He challenged from behind her, watching her jump at the question.
“Nothing’s wrong with my voice.”
“But, you sound terrible.”
Her smile was brilliant as she turned fully. “Well gee, thanks honey. You sound great tonight too.”
“Wait… Tonight? What time is it?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“Hold that thought. Why do you sound terrible?”
She exhaled as she shrugged. “Let’s just say, it’s another one of those things you need a tail to understand.”
“Okay…” He replied, not quite sure he wanted to let it go yet. “What time is it?”
“About 9:30.”
“9:30?! Why did you let me sleep so long?” He demanded.
“I didn’t. I couldn’t wake you for trying. The dead don’t sleep as deeply, or as soundly, as you were.”
“Oh.” He replied automatically, exceedingly confused. “That doesn’t happen, ever. Usually, I am fully aware of my surroundings and what is happening around me, merely drifting. I have to say though, I must have needed the sleep, because I feel pretty good. It’s been a long time since I could say that.”
Fynn smiled to the sink of dishwater. “Omen called.” She said without turning. “He said to have you call him back once you woke, since I couldn’t get you to come to the phone.”