“You guys are crazy,” Wiley said with a laugh.
“Just a little, but I think you have to be when it comes to magic and goddesses,” Baer replied.
“While this has been fun, guys, I need a lift back to my hotel,” Lucien announced. He flopped down in one of the lounge chairs that ringed the pool. “I’m exhausted and can sleep for about two days.”
“Sorry, Flames. No leaving now,” Grey said with a smirk.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lucien demanded, his head snapping up.
“He’s right,” Clay added. He was walking slowly up the stairs out of the pool with Dane behind him. “It’s not safe for you to leave.”
Baer toed out of his squishy, soaked sneakers. A chill ran through him as he stood there, drenched to the bone. At least there wasn’t a breeze. “Those pestilents are going to be hunting you, desperate to kill you.”
“But I’ve got powers now.”
Baer shook his head. “You gonna risk setting the entire hotel on fire?”
“Of course not.”
“But the pestilents will happily slaughter every human that stands between them and you.”
Lucien dropped his head and ran one hand over his bald dome. “Damn.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Grey murmured.
“But you’ll be safe here,” Wiley chimed with his usual upbeat tone. “Everyone is really nice, and Dane has been renovating the house. It’s so amazing! You’re going to love it.”
Lucien looked up and flashed a half smile at Wiley. “You their cheerleader?”
“I’m trying to be their Alfred, but they won’t let me near the Batmobile,” Wiley joked.
Baer barked out a laugh and pulled the smaller man close to him again. “Wiley is a friend of the Circle. I made a huge mistake, and he’s paying for it by being stuck here with us.”
Wiley snorted. “So stuck. Surrounded day in and day out with hot men, good food, and magic.”
Oh, Baer definitely wanted to follow up on that “hot men” comment, but now wasn’t the best time. Not with the insanity falling out of Grey’s mouth.
“If you don’t mind, Wiley, I say that Lucien should just take my old room for a few nights. You can move into Baer’s room temporarily.”
“Excuse me?” Wiley choked out.
“What?” Baer croaked.
“It won’t be long before you get another room renovated, right Dane?” Grey asked, ignoring them completely.
“Oh…umm…no, sure, it won’t take long. A week. Maybe two if things are really a mess,” Dane stammered a little.
“I don’t want to be any trouble.” Wiley twisted his fingers together in front of him, glancing from Baer to the rest of the group. “I could just sleep on the couch. Or maybe it’s time for me to return to my apartment. It’s been over a week now. I’m sure the pestilents have forgotten all about me.”
“We are not risking your life like that,” Baer snapped.
“But—”
“You’re staying here.”
“Okay,” Wiley whispered, but there was such a wonderful smile on his face.
“So then Wiley stays with Baer for now,” Grey repeated.
Baer’s eyes locked with Wiley’s, and he offered a small smile. “It’s fine with me. I don’t mind.”
Wiley nodded, a faint blush stealing across his cheeks. “Sure. That’s fine with me too. Let me…um…let me just get my stuff together.”
Wiley led the way into the house, his wet feet squeaking across the hardwood floor. He reached the stairs and paused before taking a deep breath. He looked at Baer. “Why don’t you go ahead. I have to er, grab something from the kitchen.”
Baer hesitated. He didn’t want Wiley to feel like he had to hide anything. Baer studied him for a long moment and decided to be honest. “I’ve noticed you count the stairs, Wiley. Why?”
Wiley’s cheeks flushed red. “I can’t help it,” he whispered. “It’s just something I have to do. I have this…disorder. I can manage it with medication, but it never entirely goes away and never will.”
He hadn’t realized it was something serious—he’d just thought it was one of Wiley’s little quirks. “Disorder?”
“Obsessive-compulsive disorder,” he said softly, refusing to look directly at Baer. But then his head snapped up and he added quickly. “It’s mostly under control. I just have a really hard time with stairs. Something to do with my mother dying—at least that’s what my therapist thinks. But I can’t quite kick the fear that something terrible will happen if I don’t pay attention to stairs. I know, it makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Baer said easily, hating how embarrassed and uncomfortable Wiley appeared to be when he spoke of it. As if he were expecting some horrible reaction from Baer. He closed the distance between them and placed his hand on Wiley’s thin shoulder. “I just want you to be comfortable in this house. No one should ever make you feel unwelcome or ashamed.”
Wiley’s head popped up and he smiled at Baer. “They don’t. I am comfortable here. I love it here.”