He grimaced. “Eww.”

Lace gave a quiet, husky laugh. “Bacon, eggs, and toast?”

“That’s better.”

She laughed again. “I’ll start right away.”

He tried to drift off again after she left, but now that he remembered why he was on the floor—in the fuckingdoghouse,and not even with the dog anymore, Bandit gone—there was no chance he’d be able to sleep again.

Loren, on the other hand, was still sleeping peacefully, her quiet breathing drifting through the bedroom door. That and her heartbeat created a lullaby he loved to listen to, but right now it didn’t help him sleep. It just made his heart hurt even worse.

When he smelled bacon sizzling on the stove, he got up and went downstairs, his stomach growling too loudly to ignore.

Bandit was already in the kitchen, the beggar. Staring up at Lace with his tongue out as she flitted about the room they had managed to return to a liveable state after endless sweeping and tidying.

Lace had gone all out. Pans of fried and scrambled eggs, bacon, and breakfast sausage had been laid out on the stove andcounters, along with plates of toast, bagels, and pancakes; bowls of fresh-cut fruit; jars of peanut butter and jam; maple syrup; and tubs of cream cheese. She’d even found a bag of shredded hash browns and had cooked those, too.

“Are you trying to get a raise?” Darien asked her as he made his way to the island. “Because it’s working.”

“Here.” She slid a plate overflowing with food before him. “Arthur’s just waking up. He should be down shortly.” She poured a glass of orange juice and set it down by his plate.

As if he had been summoned, the old man drifted into the kitchen in a housecoat and slippers, his wrinkled face still battered from his run-in with Shadowmasters. Darien couldn’t wait to get a hold of those assholes and settle the score. Unless they were trapped in Yveswich and were dying a slow death in there, in which case good riddance.

“Good morning,” Arthur greeted them.

“Morning,” they responded in unison.

He headed for the cupboard where they kept the tea. “Can I interest either of you in a cup of tea?”

“I think I need something stronger,” Darien said.

“Like whiskey?” Arthur joked as he filled the kettle with water.

“I was thinking coffee, but that might work.”

“I just put a pot on,” Lace said as she finished dishing up another plate. Darien assumed she was making that plate for herself when she said, “I’ll be right back, I’m taking this to Jack.” She grabbed a fork and a stack of napkins and left for the stairs.

“Loren’s still sleeping, is she?” Arthur asked as he put the kettle on the stove and turned the burner on.

“She was very tired.” He took a bite of bacon—and nearly groaned. Damn, that tasted good. He shoved the rest in his mouth and started on a second piece.

“I’m sure she’ll be around soon.” He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. “Coffee’s finished brewing.”

Darien wiped his hands on his napkin and made to stand. “I can get it.”

But Arthur was already pouring, so Darien stayed where he was, and soon Arthur was stirring in cream and sugar and placing the mug before him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

A damp nose nudged the hand he had resting on his thigh.

Singer was staring up at him. That the dog was awake was a good sign. Loren’s absence was beginning to remind him of her time in a coma, but Singer’s presence put him at ease.

He scratched behind the dog’s floppy ears. “Hey, buddy,” he said quietly as the dog sat down. “Sleep well?”

Singer swished his tail.

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