itself out some hours ago and the room had returned to the approximate temperature of a refrigerator.
Jill smiled, almost amused, regarding my appearance. I probably looked like hell, the complete antithesis of her. "I tried waking you up when I got here, but you wouldn't come around, so I just let you sleep. I figured you needed it after last night."
Blearily wondering what she knew about the previous evening, I let my head fall back onto the arm of the sofa and covered my face with my hands. "Well, thanks for that," I said through my fingers. "You worry about me too much, you know that? That's supposed to be my mother's job."
"Well, she's not here right now. Being your secretary, I'm next in line." She indicated the mug and cream as I dragged my fingers down my cheeks, pulling my lower eyelids with them. "I made you coffee. Obviously. I hope it came out alright – I was trying to do six things at once."
I swung my legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up slowly, blinking back a wave of dizzy exhaustion. "Anything you make comes out alright, Jilly," I grunted, covering a yawn, and then froze. I usually only called her that in my thoughts, and it was almost strange to hear the name come out of my mouth.
She didn't seem to pick up on it – that, or she didn't mind the pet name. Maybe she even liked it.
"I don't know about that ," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I can think of some things I'd like to improve." For a long moment, she stood there, chewing her lower lip and watching me as I fought to fully bring myself to consciousness. "You really don't look good, Chance. If you need anything else – Advil, food, whatever – just let me know."
"I'll take you up on the head drugs," I said immediately, unwilling to let her know my hidden anxiety. After all, it was more than weariness that was making me look like shit.
She still looked concerned when I didn't elaborate, and I found myself immensely grateful for the simple fact that she cared. Had she known that there was something on my mind, she would have begged me to tell her – not because she was nosy in any way, but because it would help me to talk about it, something she knew just as well as I did. But I didn't want to put that responsibility on her shoulders. Asking advice was one thing – confiding in her, another – but exposing her to the horrors of a murder was something else entirely. Of course, there was the possibility that I simply wasn't giving her enough credit. Maybe I was protecting her when she didn't need it, and maybe she would even have resented it had she known. After all, she was a big girl, and sweet though she was, she certainly wasn't naïve. She knew all too well how harsh the world could be.
So stop trying to be her father.
I suddenly remembered that she was still standing there. "Oh – sorry." I scraped a hand over my jaw, which was certainly purple and swollen. "Yeah, I'll just take some Advil when you get a chance."
Maybe then I could stop acting like a zombie.
Jill rolled her eyes in mild annoyance. "I might have a hard time finding some in that nightmare medicine cabinet, so if I'm gone too long, send SWAT after me."
She left the room and I cupped my face in my hands, fighting the urge to just flop back on the sofa and fall back to sleep. With so much on my mind that I didn't want to think about, it would take no effort, and I would be out in seconds.
You've got a long day ahead of you, I told myself grimly, peering through my fingers at the floor. You need to focus.
I made a sound halfway between a whine and a moan. But I need sleep to focus. And I need a shower.
Well, it would have to wait. Neglecting the milk and sugar altogether, I raised the mug to my lips and took a glorious mouthful. Jill had made it strong, anticipating that I would need a jolt.
Bless her heart.
I rose stiffly and crossed the room to my desk, cradling the mug in both hands. A
Jill smiled, almost amused, regarding my appearance. I probably looked like hell, the complete antithesis of her. "I tried waking you up when I got here, but you wouldn't come around, so I just let you sleep. I figured you needed it after last night."
Blearily wondering what she knew about the previous evening, I let my head fall back onto the arm of the sofa and covered my face with my hands. "Well, thanks for that," I said through my fingers. "You worry about me too much, you know that? That's supposed to be my mother's job."
"Well, she's not here right now. Being your secretary, I'm next in line." She indicated the mug and cream as I dragged my fingers down my cheeks, pulling my lower eyelids with them. "I made you coffee. Obviously. I hope it came out alright – I was trying to do six things at once."
I swung my legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up slowly, blinking back a wave of dizzy exhaustion. "Anything you make comes out alright, Jilly," I grunted, covering a yawn, and then froze. I usually only called her that in my thoughts, and it was almost strange to hear the name come out of my mouth.
She didn't seem to pick up on it – that, or she didn't mind the pet name. Maybe she even liked it.
"I don't know about that ," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I can think of some things I'd like to improve." For a long moment, she stood there, chewing her lower lip and watching me as I fought to fully bring myself to consciousness. "You really don't look good, Chance. If you need anything else – Advil, food, whatever – just let me know."
"I'll take you up on the head drugs," I said immediately, unwilling to let her know my hidden anxiety. After all, it was more than weariness that was making me look like shit.
She still looked concerned when I didn't elaborate, and I found myself immensely grateful for the simple fact that she cared. Had she known that there was something on my mind, she would have begged me to tell her – not because she was nosy in any way, but because it would help me to talk about it, something she knew just as well as I did. But I didn't want to put that responsibility on her shoulders. Asking advice was one thing – confiding in her, another – but exposing her to the horrors of a murder was something else entirely. Of course, there was the possibility that I simply wasn't giving her enough credit. Maybe I was protecting her when she didn't need it, and maybe she would even have resented it had she known. After all, she was a big girl, and sweet though she was, she certainly wasn't naïve. She knew all too well how harsh the world could be.
So stop trying to be her father.
I suddenly remembered that she was still standing there. "Oh – sorry." I scraped a hand over my jaw, which was certainly purple and swollen. "Yeah, I'll just take some Advil when you get a chance."
Maybe then I could stop acting like a zombie.
Jill rolled her eyes in mild annoyance. "I might have a hard time finding some in that nightmare medicine cabinet, so if I'm gone too long, send SWAT after me."
She left the room and I cupped my face in my hands, fighting the urge to just flop back on the sofa and fall back to sleep. With so much on my mind that I didn't want to think about, it would take no effort, and I would be out in seconds.
You've got a long day ahead of you, I told myself grimly, peering through my fingers at the floor. You need to focus.
I made a sound halfway between a whine and a moan. But I need sleep to focus. And I need a shower.
Well, it would have to wait. Neglecting the milk and sugar altogether, I raised the mug to my lips and took a glorious mouthful. Jill had made it strong, anticipating that I would need a jolt.
Bless her heart.
I rose stiffly and crossed the room to my desk, cradling the mug in both hands. A
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