The Undead Pool

He sighed, the sound of relief in him a clear indication that he had heard the depth of my commitment. We were going to do this. It was going to happen. The only question was how much collateral damage we were going to leave behind. “Take it one day at a time,” he said, making it sound easy.

We parted, the first hints of unease shifting about me as reality pushed out the glow he’d filled me with. I’d just lost a steady paycheck, because I couldn’t work for him anymore. Damn it, I was going to be doing his security for free. “And today?” I asked, fiddling with the tassels on the afghan.

He turned, looking as collected and together as if he were in a three-piece suit. Jeez, how did he do that? “Today, I am stuck in the Hollows without my cell phone. Fortunately Jenks has a box of clothes.”

I nodded. “In my closet. Top shelf. Help yourself.” But he knew that already. He stood, and I looked up at him, trying to be polite but not doing very well. He was a beautiful, beautiful man. A smile crossed my face at the memory of what his skin felt like. It was all I could do not to touch him right now—now that I could.

Trent scooped up his pants and turned. Smiling, he extended a hand to help me up. I sort of fell into him, and tingles sparkled where we touched as he kissed me lightly, rekindling my passion, promising that it wasn’t a onetime affair. “We will find a way to fix this without the demons,” he said, and my current trouble came crashing back. “We just have to break it down to its smallest component and work from there. You want the shower first?”

My hold on his fingers tightened and I pulled him to the hall. “It’s not as big as yours, but it can still hold two.” I couldn’t bear the thought of not being with him right now. I was afraid if we parted, even for a moment, that I’d wake up to find it was a dream.

He followed behind me, scooping up his shoes as he went and tossing them to the door. “That’s good to know.”

And then our talk turned to what we had in the fridge as I soaped his back and he lathered my hair, delighting in its length when it was wet and how the water turned it to a darker shade. This was either the smartest thing I’d ever done, or the dumbest. Trouble was, I wouldn’t know until it all fell apart or we made it stick.

Please, God. I’d do just about anything to not be alone ever again, I prayed, and the mystics hummed, their thoughts unclear and walled off from me.

One thing I knew was one hundred percent sure was that he was right. Nothing had to change unless we both wanted it to. My toothbrush was staying right where it was, but as I looked at him and the way the water sheeted off the smooth lines of his muscles and the memory of his passion arced through me, I thought I might buy an extra one.

Just in case.

Twenty-Three

“Trent? Never mind. I found one,” I said, breezing into the kitchen with a legal pad I’d found stuffed in the back of my closet. Ivy had them, sure, but I was tired of looking like a pantser all the time. I could plan stuff, too.

Trent spun from the cooling rack, looking guilty as he rubbed crumbs from his fingers. “You’re a three-cookie man, huh?” I said as I found a black marker, and he grinned sheepishly.

“Five, actually. Chocolate chip are my weakness.” The cookie broke, and he lurched to catch it, looking totally accessible in the colorful silk shirt he’d borrowed from Jenks. The cuffs of his jeans were rolled up and he was barefoot, which all but pegged my meter. He looked different, but his mannerisms were as collected as always. In the background, the dryer was a contented hum. I didn’t even care since it had his socks in it.

Smiling, I got a plate. We’d been sketching out our plans in the back living room since there was less chance of being spotted by a roving news crew, and I could use a couple of cookies myself. “Where do you put it?” I asked as I intentionally bumped into him.

“High metabolism.” Ears turning red, he stacked cookies on the plate. “Mmmm, these are good. No wonder Al likes them.”

“They’re worth their weight in spells in the ever-after.” Content, I added to the pile. The world was imploding outside the stone walls of my church, and I didn’t care. “Too bad they don’t last more than an hour. Did you know that the demon who owns the coffeehouse connected to your dad’s vault drew up a contract for a supply of reality-made coffee?”

“Really?”

I nodded, remembering having shoved it into my pocket before going to talk to Newt. Al had looked at it later, tossing it into his fire after pronouncing it grossly one-sided. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

Sure enough, Trent was thinking as he leaned against the counter beside my dissolution vat of salt water. His ankles crossed, and I almost forgot how to breathe. Damn, he looked good. “The cookies get eaten that fast?”