Page 59 of A Thousand Cuts

Fix

Ashrill tone woke him from the best sleep he’d had in ages, and Fix was determined to give his phone to Ash and let him blowtorch it.

He was scrunched onto Liam’s tiny sofa and there was a paw batting at his face and drool on his shoulder. His back was fucked, his neck probably wouldn’t turn fully to the side for the rest of the week, and he was pretty sure half of his body was numb.

Fix couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy.

His arms were full of Liam, safe and sleeping soundly wrapped up in his blankets and Fix. His head was tucked under Fix’s chin, messy blond hair tickling his neck and tangling in his beard. He could feel Liam’s warm breath on his collarbone and the sweet scent of him filled his nostrils. Fix looked down at the golden eyebrows, relaxed and smooth as he slept. He traced the slope of Liam’s nose with his eyes and settled on those full lips. He wished he could claim them, taste and feel their sweet softness and sate this need burning through his chest.

His mind was full of memories of Liam letting him in, allowing him more than just a glimpse of his beautiful, fragile soul. His heart bled for everything he was going through, his determination to fix it only growing and growing, but it was also bursting with potential. Liam hadn’t rejected him.

King snuffed, batting him again, annoyed at his mere existence still being so close to his one and only and hogging all his attention, which…fair.

“Easy, King,” Fix said, trying to keep his voice calm and gentle, channeling Wren as best as he could. “You’ll wake him up.”

King apparently did not care and batted him one more time for good measure right on his nose.

“We’ve got a lot to work out between us, but we’re on the same team here,” he said, blinking away the tears that sprang automatically to his eyes. Why did noses do that? “All I want is to protect him too. I’m not gonna hurt him.”

King stared at him for a moment, as if understanding and weighing the validity of his words. Fix kept himself as still as possible…but that fucking phone rang again and this time Fix wasn’t fast enough to silence it.

Liam stirred groggily, blinking against the sleep in his eyes and frowning at where he was before snapping his eyes up. He met Fix’s gaze, disoriented and confused before he pushed himself off his chest and tugging the blanket around himself again, a blush sitting high on his cheeks. King abandoned Fix instantly to push himself in next to Liam, who wrapped an arm around the beast.

King gave him a triumphant snort and smug side-eye—the dog equivalent of sticking his thumbs in his ears and his tongue out and yelling “Ner, ner!”

“Sorry,” Liam whispered, burying the word in the top of King’s head.

Fix shook his head, joints cracking as he sat up properly. Damn, he was getting old.

“What for?” he asked as he stretched his arms above his head, plaid shirt lifting and straining its buttons and seams.

Liam’s eyes skipped all over the places Fix’s skin was exposed before he glanced back down at King. “You know…passing out on you like that.”

“You won’t catch me complaining. I’ve never slept better.”

Liam’s blush went from lovely pink to raging red at the words. His hair fell in front of his face and Fix reached out as gently as he could, wrapping his fingers around it and pushing it back behind his ear so he could see him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better. Still mildly terrified, but better,” he said, meeting his gaze shyly. “I…I slept well too.”

Fix honest to god thought he’d combust at the words. At how magical Liam looked, straight out of his most domestic fantasies, sleep-warm and soft, tucked into the corner of his sofa and leaning into Fix like he belonged there. At how right it all felt. Them together. Even with King, who was tolerating him at best until he proved himself worthy.

It was a new sense of family.

“Um, your phone,” Liam said when the annoying sound started again.

“It’s work,” Fix sighed.

“You can take it. Don’t let me stop you.”

“But I don’t want to.”

Liam laughed like he hadn’t expected that answer, or the whining. He reached over Fix’s lap, snagging his phone. Before Fix could stop him he took the call and pressed the phone to Fix’s ear.

“Yes, Taylor,” he said, playfully glaring at Liam, who actually stuck his tongue out at him. Brat.

“You got an urgent case,” she said, clacking away on her keyboard with her talons. “I texted you the address. They’re expecting you within the hour.”