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“You’re much better than I expected,” she said, straightening and pulling her hand away. “Your natural shifter healing will do the rest. You don’t need me to do anything.”

Relief made him grin up at her. “Great!”

“That doesn’t mean you can do anything except rest,” Faith countered as she looked around the room. “Where do you hang your robes?”

He refused to walk around the house like a convalescent. “No robe.” He pointed to the dresser. “There are pants in the second drawer.”

Faith let out an annoyed sound but went over and rooted around until she found a pair of gray sweatpants he’d forgotten he owned. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to convince her to find anything else, so he remained silent as she slipped them up his legs. He was able to stand with the help of the chair, and she pulled them the rest of the way up.

Grimacing, he looked down at the old sweats.

“Don’t make that face,” Faith said, standing up. “Mila’s going to love these pants. I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “She liked me in my motorcycle jacket and tight jeans. These aren’t as nice.”

Faith snickered. “These are good too, trust me.”

If his wolf wasn’t pushing hard to set eyes on Mila, he’d ask Faith more questions. “I need to get downstairs.”

“If you do that, you’re not getting back up here until Gio’s awake,” Faith warned him. “You can’t get up the stairs without him carrying you.”

He scoffed openly at her declaration but secretly knew she was right. At least there was the TV room on the first floor with an oversized, comfy couch. It wouldn’t be a bad place to spend the day.

“Let’s go,” Faith said, moving to his side. He draped an arm over her shoulders and let her help him. Like most knitters, Faith was much stronger than the average human her size. Not as strong as a shifter like him, but still able to help him without straining herself.

The journey from the bedroom to the downstairs was one of the hardest of his life. He was short of breath by the time they were at the bottom of the stairs.

Without having to ask, Faith paused so he could catch his breath.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

He’d been focused on breathing before, but now that she commented on it, he noticed all kinds of wonderful smells filling the air.

“Is someone cooking?” Faith asked and walked away from him to follow her nose. “I think I smell cinnamon rolls!”

Determined not to be left behind, he pushed away from the wall to follow, proud that he weaved only a little.

He got to the kitchen archway in time to watch Mila pull a tray of something out of the oven. She was humming, her steps light and dancing as she turned to set the tray on a waiting trivet. The bright lights of the kitchen made her blonde hair glow, and her face looked relaxed and happy.

His wolf settled at the sight of their content mate and retreated to leave Carter in control. It was nice that the animal wasn’tpushing him any longer, but with the wolf’s retreat, Carter’s legs turned to rubber.

The knitter must’ve known this was a possibility because she was quick to press against his side and wrap an arm around his waist.

“Carter!” Mila exclaimed, finally noticing them. “Um, Faith, right?”

The knitter nodded. “He needs to sit down.”

“I’m fine,” Carter grumbled but let Mila rush to his other side. Between the two women, he made it to one of the stools at the kitchen island. His legs gave out just as Faith shoved a stool under him.

“Should you be up?” Mila asked.

“Yes,” Carter answered, trying to sit up straight and look perfectly fine.

“No,” Faith said with a sigh. “But here we are anyway.”

Mila laughed and pointed to the half full carafe of coffee in the maker he rarely used. “Want some? The cinnamon rolls will be cool enough to eat soon too.”

Faith took a seat next to him. “I’d love some! They smell just like the ones my mom used to make.”