more than just a stolen kiss. Whatever Quinten had withGloria was wrapped up in a past that seemed filled with regret.
For both of them.
It wasn’t like he could stay to mend those regrets.
Maybe we shouldn’t have run here. Or maybe he’d wanted to come here for this last good-bye.
“Okay, then. Well, so,” I said awkwardly, no longer feeling up to teasing him. “There’s soup ready when you want it.” I turned to leave.
“Soup sounds wonderful,” Gloria said, walking past Quinten and over to me.
“There’s no rush,” I said. “We can keep it hot if you two need a little time to”—I waved my hands in the air—“catch up.”
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She pressed her warm, strong hand against my arm kindly as she walked past me. “I think a little hot food will clear my head.”
I watched her walk down the short hall to the kitchen.
My brother was going to kill me.
“Matilda,” he said in a warning tone.
I twisted on my feet to look back at him. “Did I interrupt something important?” I asked with an innocence I had no right to claim.
“Yes. But it’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure most medical procedures end with a handshake, not a tongue down someone’s throat.”
He tipped his head, raising one eyebrow. “Are you done? You know I can make you regret every word.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I grinned, warming up. “You have been gone for three years, Quinten Case. Seems like Ihave an awful lot of teasing all stored up in me, bursting to get out.”
“Obviously,” he drawled. “Do you think you can control yourself long enough that I can eat? I’m starving.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “No guarantees.”
He shook his head, then walked up to me and draped his arm over my shoulder, squeezing me gently. “You are a pain in the neck, Matilda Case. I missed you.”
I slipped my arm around his too-thin waist as we walked toward the kitchen.
It had been a long, long time since we’d been together. I leaned my head briefly on his shoulder that smelled faintly of Gloria’s perfume and was just happy that he was alive. “I love you too,” I said.
“I know.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “Thank you for saving me from House Orange,” he mumbled softly into my hair. He gave me one last squeeze, then stepped back to hold me at arm’s length and give me a disapproving glare. “It took you long enough.”
“And you’re welcome.” I made a face at him. “It’s not like you had a bug on you I could track, you know.”
“Yes, well, we’ll have to come up with some other kind of system if it ever happens again.”
“Which it won’t,” I said.
“But if it does.”
“It won’t,” I repeated.
“We will have another way to find each other,” he said. “I’m done with bugs.”
We walked into the kitchen.
Neds had finished off his share of the meal and was standing by the coffeepot with a mug in his hand, waiting for it to finish perking.
Gloria sat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen where we’d set out the meal. She looked up as we walked in. “I was just telling Mr. Harris . . .”
“Just Neds,” Right Ned said.
“I was just telling Neds,” she said, “that the cleansing process on Abraham appears to have gone very well. His vital signs improved immediately, and with the addition of blood, he should be much better soon. Galvanized are very resilient.”
“That’s good,” I said, relief unknotting in my stomach. I knew logically that galvanized couldn’t die unless someone went to a lot of effort to destroy the brain. But to rely on that logic without physical proof was a leap of faith I’d been holding my breath on. It was hard to look at Abraham and not see him as a dying man.
“I’d like to know where he got that thread that’s holding him together,” she said, giving the thread that was visible on my hands a pointed look.
Quinten sat across from her and