Chapter 200: She Didn’t Have to Be Fine First

Dove waited inside the restaurant until the radio carried another update. Guards had contained the escaped animal beside an empty storage building and blocked the creek road. Nobody was asking her husbands to chase it. Only then did she let Thorne take her back through the yard to their room.

She washed with her pond water, changed into clean clothes, and sat on the bed with her feet tucked beneath her. Thorne came from the washroom first, carrying their dusty things in a basin. Edrik followed with clean hands and the expression he wore when he was trying not to decide on her behalf.

"Do you want us close?" he asked.

Dove nodded. "Yes, but don’t squeeze me until my ribs make a noise. I’m having a very irritating afternoon."

Thorne sat beside her, and she leaned against him before he could offer. His arm settled around her back. Edrik pulled the chair close enough for his knee to touch hers, leaving her room to move.

For a while, she listened to the wind and the workers outside. She had wanted a home badly enough to ignore how much she feared losing it. Now a board covered her window, there was blood in the yard, and she was counting Thorne’s fingers like an idiot. She kept counting anyway.

"I kept thinking about your hand," she admitted, looking at Thorne’s fingers where they rested against her sleeve. "If that grate had slipped, or the thing had turned faster."

"It didn’t," he said, then paused when her face tightened. "I know that doesn’t stop you seeing it."

That was better. She held his hand between both of hers and checked the skin even though she’d already checked it once. He let her, without grinning about the attention.

Edrik set a cup of water within reach. "You kept the workers out of the channel. The one who fell would have backed straight into it."

"I know I helped. I just wanted one afternoon where keeping you both meant feeding you lunch."

Edrik’s thumb rested against her knee. He didn’t try to turn that into a joke, and neither did she. A few tears slipped out while Thorne held her. She hated being this scared after they were safe, but his hand stayed open inside hers for as long as she needed it.

By the time the restaurant owner knocked at the side entrance, she was able to answer. He had brought three large plates from the kitchen, covered to keep them warm. He also lent them a small radio to follow the warnings. Ben was resting with a coworker and had no serious injury from the shed. He had also insisted that her household get extra chicken.

"Tell him I accept payment in crispy skin," Dove said. "And he isn’t allowed to risk himself for onions again."

The owner smiled, looking tired enough to sleep against the wall. He explained that the rear passage would stay closed until the district checked it. The front street remained open, and guards had fenced the creek-side path while other crews checked the grates.

Plates clattered in the kitchen next door, and the cook complained about somebody stealing his towel. Dove listened while they ate. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear a problem that small.

They ate in the rear room, with Thorne making sure his plate held enough to replace the energy he’d used. Edrik went back for bread instead of pretending one serving had filled him. Dove stole a piece from his plate and got a look that made her feel pleasantly less fragile.

"You’ve got another whole piece," she said.

"I was watching you steal mine."

"You married a criminal. This should have come up earlier."

"It did. I liked you anyway."

She smiled into her cup. It wasn’t a grand moment, but her shoulders finally loosened.

Later she found the damage had cost them glass and a dusty cushion, not their food. Moving the stock before the storm had worked. She stood over the dry bags, letting that small, stubborn fact sink in before storing a spare bracket behind the curtain and bringing it back for the repair box.

"One tarp remains unissued," Sprout reminded her.

"Show me what we already have before you try selling me another."

The covers on her list were enough. She paid the one-normal-coin return charge for the tarp, leaving 1,630 normal and 191 Favor. Then she put the record away and sat beside Edrik, who had fallen asleep near the bed. Her hand in his hair was enough to make him lean toward her without waking.

Ash returned before dusk with the borrowed light. Dove saw his horns through the front window and stepped behind the curtain instead of going to meet him. She was tired, she had finally washed the grit out of her hair, and she didn’t owe anybody a pleasant face.

Thorne took the light at the door. The district had confirmed that nobody in the nearby houses had been bitten. Iris had sent Nolan’s recording to the workers examining the animals.

"I’m with security now," Ash said, loudly enough for Dove to hear. "I’ll be on this side of the district."

Edrik woke at Ash’s voice and looked toward the curtain. She shook her head. He went to stand beside Thorne, leaving her out of sight.

"Then patrol it," Edrik said. "You don’t need to come inside."

She heard Ash start to say her name. Thorne shut the door before he finished.

Dove let out a breath and reached for the bread they had saved. It felt a little petty to enjoy that much, but she was tired of her whole day bending around a man who had never bothered to make hers easier.

The restaurant radio crackled through the wall. Edrik reached for the small set they’d brought into the room to hear the same district update, his thumb resting beside the volume knob. The voice abruptly softened.

"Thank you," Dove said. "It was shouting right through my head."

Edrik looked at his hand. "I didn’t turn it."

He lifted his thumb, touched the casing again, and frowned as the voice grew louder before cutting off. When he let go, the static returned.

Dove sat up. "Do that again."

He tried. Nothing happened this time, and his frown deepened.

"Don’t break it," she said. "I liked having news that wasn’t somebody standing in my doorway."

Thorne leaned closer, but neither man had an answer. Dove tucked the little mystery away instead of letting them pull the radio apart while tired. Tomorrow they could try it with full stomachs and a clear head.

The broadcast returned while they were listening. The creek road would stay closed while crews investigated the animals and checked the cracked ground beside the channel. Then the announcer warned that tomorrow would be hotter again, with no rain expected to settle the dust.

Edrik touched the radio, and it went quiet. Dove looked at him, waiting for another joke about broken equipment. He was staring at his own hand.

"That wasn’t the switch," he said. "I wanted it quiet, and it listened."