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Mortifer fully covered his eyes now as Darien swung open the freezer door. Loren craned her neck to see better. Ice clacked as Darien sifted through the bin.

When he brought his fist back out, there were coins in it, metal edges poking between his fingers.

“Morty,” he drawled, shaking his head. The Hob still wouldn’t look at him. “Never again. Okay?”

The Hob fidgeted.

“I know you’re worried about me,” Darien said, his voice softening, “but I can’t have you doing this. Okay?”

With reluctance, the Hob nodded.

“I need you to promise,” Darien pressed.

The Hob took his hands off his eyes and used the right to draw a cross over his heart.

“Good. Here you go.” Darien gave him some ice. He shut the freezer door and strode over to the island, his steps weaker than usual.

Tamika said, “He likes to eat ice?”

“He’s an addict,” Max replied.

“You know that’s a sign of iron deficiency, right?”

Darien huffed a laugh. “He’s a Hob.” He grabbed a fresh dish towel and placed the cold coins on top.

And then he stood there, hands moving to grip the counter. He shut his eyes, nostrils flaring with a deep breath.

“Darien,” Ivy said quietly. She was watching her brother with concern. Everyone else was watching him too, the whole room silent.

Loren’s heart skipped a beat as he continued to stand there, those hands white with tension. Her own hands went to the couch cushions, squeezing them tight. “Are you okay?” she whispered, the question carrying through the soundless room.

“I’m beat,” Darien said. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “And it’s really bright in here.”

The looks on several of the faces in the room showed exactly how concerning the statement was.

It wasn’t bright in here at all. There were only a couple lamps on, all of them dim. Same with the light above the gas stove.

“Let’s give him some space to rest,” Ivy suggested.

“I can go upstairs,” Darien slurred.

Doctor Atlas said, “You should stay put for the night, Darien. Unnecessary movement won’t do your condition any good.”

Everyone made their way out of the room, some of them leaving the house entirely, depending on the individual. Soon, it was just Loren and Darien left.

Darien returned to the couch, feet dragging. Bandit hopped up on one of the armchairs, turning in circles before lying down in a tight ball.

“Are you okay, Darien?” Loren whispered. He sat down beside her, the cushion sinking under his weight. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just you.” The slur of his words told her he was about to fall asleep. Another scrub of his hand down his face, and then he was lowering himself onto his back. “You’re all I need.”

She shifted out of the way so he could get comfortable. His hand went to her wrist and circled it, holding her in place, she realized. After a moment, his eyelids slid shut, and his breathing slowed.

“I love you, Darien,” Loren said into the quiet room. But he was already asleep, his breathing deep and quiet.

She watched him for a while, watched him breathe, making sure he was okay.

Because he was all she needed, too.