Page 151 of The Clinch
An hour later, the bedroom door opens. Leo steps back into the living room looking looser somehow, not rested exactly, but less tightly wound. The hard set of his shoulders has eased, but camp still clings to him—the heavy stillness, the bruised fatigue, the kind of stripped-down physical presence that makes the whole room feel smaller when he walks into it.
I have to remind myself not to stare.
He glances toward the kitchen, sees the plates on the counter, then tips his head toward the hall.
“Eden wants you.”
I blink at him. “For what?”
A laugh carries from the bedroom. “Fifteen minutes. Get in here.”
I hesitate just long enough to make Leo’s mouth twitch.
“Go,” he says.
I set down the glass in my hand and start toward the hallway. When I reach him, his hand catches my waist and holds me there.
He pulls me in and kisses me.
I smile against his lips, a little breathless despite myself. “This seems medically inappropriate.”
“Take it up with my care team,” he murmurs.
Fifteen minutes later, when Eden lifts her hands away, my body feels looser than it has all week.
“There. Your head is back where it belongs.”
I sit up slowly. “You’re alarmingly effective.”
“I know.”
She disappears into the bathroom to wash her hands, and I stay on the edge of the bed a second longer.
Then she’s gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her. The apartment quiets around the two of us. Dinner on the counter. Evening gathering at the windows. His world closing neatly around me again.
He looks better than he did when I walked in. Less armored, but not softer. If anything, camp has stripped him down to something more dangerous, less polished, more essential.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
He slides a plate toward me. “Sit down, Flash.”
“You’re very bossy for someone who needed cranial-sacral intervention an hour ago.”
“Being exhausted doesn’t make me less right.”
We eat at the island.
The salmon is excellent in the deeply annoying way all of these meals are excellent. I glance at the label still stuck to the glass container.
“Your nutritionist is terrifyingly competent.”
“Nate recommended her.”
“That tracks.”
“She handles my macros and has everything prepped and delivered. Makes life easier.”
