Page 153

“When did it wear off?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Late.” Leo’s gaze slid away. “You were asleep.”

Nate tried to process that. At some point during the night Leo must have felt himself sink through the arm around him. But he’d decided to stay right where he was, anyway.

All night.

“I think I need coffee,” Nate said, and sat up.

The room tilted. The pain behind his eye got worse. He put a hand on the armchair and waited it out while Leo drifted upright beside him, hovering as if he wanted to help but there was nothing for him to do.

“Is this because of the tea?”

“Probably.”

“How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse.” He hadn’t. He got up, slowly.

As he did, he caught sight of the painting on the mantel.

The scratch looked worse in daylight. It ran from Leo’s cheekbone to his jaw, all the way through his mouth. The edges of the gouge were ragged.

“I’ll fix it,” Nate said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s paint, not skin.” He headed for the kitchen.

The kitchen was dim, at least. He got the coffee maker going, and while it worked he picked up the tea tin from the counter, where he’d left it the night before with the lid off. He peeked inside.

Oh.

He’d taken more than he’d thought.

No wonder he felt terrible.

He put the lid back on.

“What are you doing?” Leo had come through the wall to watch him.

“Just checking how much is left.”

Leo glanced at the tin. “I never noticed you making tea yesterday.”

“I just ate the leaves.”

“Oh.” This seemed to surprise Leo. “So how much is left?”

“Enough.”

“Enough for what?”

Nate didn’t answer that.

The coffee maker gurgled. Leo opened his mouth to say something.

Someone knocked on the front door.