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He didn’t really want to take her to his place, but he wasn’t going to deal with Rick tonight either. “Mine.”

“Do you have food?”

“Yeah. Some.” It wasn’t like he was a chef like her.

“I’ll make us something to eat, and we’ll talk.”

He had a hell of a lot better plans than that but closed her door, got in the back, and decided he’d take what he could get. Her.

She was all he needed today. Any day. Every day.

Chapter Twelve

Lyric stared out the windshield at the neglected apartment building with little hope the inside was any better than the outside. Cheap rent meant few amenities. Only two of the six outdoor lights worked and three of the many bushes out front were still alive.

But she didn’t care where he lived, only that he had a place to rest, because Viper looked exhausted.

Viper squeezed her hand. “I can drive you back to the bar.”

Aria had just left after dropping them off.

She glanced at the parking lot. “Where’s your truck?”

“My... friend will have it back soon.”

She didn’t get why he paused before calling the guy he’d been with a friend, but she let it go. “Which one’s yours?”

“Straight ahead. Second floor.”

She walked up the steps ahead of him.

He stood next to her on the landing and pulled out his keys. “This place is like yours. It’s just convenient for now.” He put the key in the lock and let them in.

“It’s fine, M. I’m not judging you on your”—she looked around the sparse but very clean apartment—“very tidy place.”

“I like things in order,” he grumbled like it embarrassed him or something.

She walked in and made herself at home by going to his fridge and opening it up. The contents were as sparse as his living space, but she found the basics and pulled out eggs, cheese, and a jar of salsa.

“You don’t have to cook.”

“I do if I want to eat. And you need to eat something so you can take your meds.”

M dropped the bag of meds on the dining table, along with his paperwork, and the bag of additional gauze pads and wrap for his arm. “What I really want is a shower.”

“I’ll have this ready by the time you finish.” She went to him and grabbed the cuff of his sleeve on his good arm. “But first, let me help you with this.”

He pulled his arm free. She pushed the bottom of the shirt up his chest, then tugged the material over his head and gently down his injured arm. The bandage on his head came loose.

She pulled it off his head and tried to inspect the injury. “Bend down. Let me get a look at that.”

“It’s just a bunch of abrasions. No stitches.” He leaned forward so she could get a look.

She gently brushed her fingers through his hair, pulling the strands away from the wounded area. “It’s not bleeding. But it looks bad. How did that happen?”

“I got clocked with a log.”

She hissed. “Ouch.”