He was pacing outside the front doors because apparently his pacing had been driving the desk staff insane, so they’d asked him to wait outside.
I felt my body half-melt into his when he crushed me in a sweaty hug, his back damp with it under the cotton of his t-shirt. He smelled familiar—earth, shampoo, and the particular musk that was Elliot Crane. I felt him inhale in my arms, his nose pressed to the side of my neck.
“Hi,” I whispered.
He stepped back, reaching up to hold my cheeks in his hands. “Are you okay?”
“Pissed as hell, hungry, and in need of a shower,” I answered. “But otherwise, yeah, I’m okay.”
He hugged me again, and I grunted softly as the tight squeeze of his arms pulled a crack from one of my vertebrae.
He jerked back. “Oh, shit, baby, I’m sorry!”
“Actually, that felt good,” I told him. “But I haven’t eaten?—”
“Let’s get you fed, then.” He offered me a smile that was a little wavery.
“Areyouokay?” I asked him.
“I am now,” he answered, but his words were shakier than I expected.
Ignoring the people moving in and out of the Sheriff’s Office, I bent and kissed him, one hand cupping the back of his skull and holding his face to mine. I felt his warm hands settle on my waist, gripping the wrinkled fabric of my button-down.
“Better?” I asked him, when I pulled away.
He blinked rapidly, but didn’t manage to stop a single tear from slipping out of the corner of one hazel eye. I brushed it away with my thumb. “I’m okay,” I repeated. “Still in one piece, still breathing.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and I kissed his forehead, tasting the salt of sweat pulled out by the already-ninety-degree day.
“Okay?” I asked him.
He nodded, but I could feel him shaking a little.
“El?”
“I—I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” he whispered, and this time I was the one to pull him into a hug.
“I’m here,” I told him. “And I’m okay. Just hungry. I promise.”
He sniffed once, then stepped back. “Thai food again?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t care,” I replied. “I’m just hungry.”
He nodded, sniffed one more time, and then pulled out his phone, tapped a couple times, and called a Chinese place to order more takeout than I thought we could eat, even if I was making up for last night.
“Okay?” he asked when he hung up.
“Great,” I replied.
“I’ll have it waiting for you when you get out of the shower,” he promised, leading me back to the car.
I’d fallen asleep notlong after gorging myself on Chinese food, and I was honestly rather impressed that I’d managed to make it through eating the food before falling asleep, since the minute my butt hit the hotel bed, exhaustion had overridden adrenaline and completely wiped me out.
Coming back into consciousness, I noticed the soft sound of a TV first, then realized that I could feel the warmth and weight of Elliot’s hand on my head, his fingers very gently stroking through my hair. My head was pillowed on one warm and muscular thigh, which—embarrassingly—I’d left a wet spot of drool on.
I lifted my head slightly, blinking blearily at the TV through contact lenses that had been in my eyes for far too long. Some homesteading thing. Elliot liked those, and a lot of cable channels would just marathon them, so he could usually find one of them if there wasn’t anything else.
“Hey, baby,” he said softly. “Better?”
