His teeth sink into my neck. “Don’t tempt me, woman.”
I let out a laugh that ends in a grin and wiggle out of his hold.
“Go to bed, Magnus.”
“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he asks, more like a possessive demand than a serious question.
God.
Does he want me here? Or is he just saying stuff he’ll regret later due to stress?
“Of course I’ll be here,” I tell him.
What I don’t say is, you’re the one who always leaves.
“Thank you.”
My heart sings to hear those two simple words again. He’s getting soft with all of these thank yous.
Magnus slips off to his room, and I go find Jordan.
The penthouse is huge, bigger than several of my parents’ houses put together. It takes time to navigate the strangely beautiful, sleek, and modern corridors, but eventually I figure out how to get back to the sunroom. Jordan sits on the floor in the dark, hugging his knees, staring at the snow falling lightly out the window with the city’s lights twinkling in the distance.
“Hey, guy. Are you okay?” I ask.
He turns and looks at me. “Yeah. What’s up?”
“I’m going to order some food, so there’s something in this apartment besides coffee. Got a minute to help me fill up an online cart?”
He gives me a curious look, his lip curled. “Why do you need my help?”
“So I know what you like. Mag usually eats at the office. If you wait for him to buy groceries, you’ll starve.”
“What is it with you guys and food?” Jordan rolls his eyes, almost the same beautiful shade as his big brother’s in the darkness.
I shrug and grin. “We like to eat.”
He presses his lips together.
“So you’ll just buy whatever I want?” His voice goes up an octave.
I nod.
“But why?” He seems confused.
“Because your brother wants you happy here, and so do I. I know this is a tricky situation. We’ll make it as easy as we can.”
“Thanks, I guess,” he says before going quiet. “So if I wanted sour gummy bears, marshmallows, and hot chocolate?”
“We can definitely get those things, but you’ll regret an all-sugar diet pretty fast. How about some protein and veggies, too?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He pops up off the floor and follows me back to the couch.
“What are some of your favorite meals at home?” I ask, pulling out the laptop.
“Meatloaf, pasta, beef stew, fish and fries,” he says without hesitation.
Crap. Magnus may need a chef.
Pasta, I could probably handle. The rest of that’s beyond me.
“Your mom cooks well,” I tell him.
“Most days.”
“What if Mom works late? Then what do you do?”
“Oh, did you mean you wanted me to pick frozen foods?”
I nod. “Well, no one here really has the skills to cook from scratch, so I was thinking of things you could make your—”
He pumps his arm in the air and brings it back down.
“Yes! I want mini pepperoni pizzas, frozen burritos, insta-chicken—”
“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Insta-chicken?” I ask.
“Like boneless wings that just get microwaved. Oh, get a big bottle of ranch,” he says.
Okay. So the kid likes his snacks.
“I have a better idea.” I hand him my phone. “You fill up the cart, and when you’re done, I’ll approve it, okay?”
He’s all too eager, grabbing the phone away. He sets to work filling up the shopping cart.
Twenty minutes later, he hands it back to me. “All set.”
I scan the long list of frozen junk food, hot chocolate, marshmallows, candy, and popcorn.
“One condition: you have to tell me some fruits and vegetables you like too.”
“Aw, I’ll eat any fruit. Vegetables, I only like carrots and cucumbers,” he says.
“That’s easy enough.” I add some basic supplies in case someone feels up to cooking, confirm the order, pay with the company card, and set up delivery. “You can have hot cocoa before bed tonight.”
“Cool.” He gives me the first real smile I’ve seen.
I study the boy. I need to try to break the ice for Magnus.
“So how are you doing with—everything?” I venture.
He shrugs. “All right, I guess.”
There’s a but in there somewhere, I think.
“But?”
He lets out a long, sad sigh.
“Will you be straight with me? Is my mom gonna be okay?” he asks, staring at his sneakers.
I hold in a breath before answering carefully. “I think so, but I honestly...I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. I’ll see if I can get more info, though.”
“You’re nice,” he says, his eyes beaming in the darkness.
I smile. “I try.”
Jordan releases a breath so hard his body slumps forward, palms resting on his knees. “It’s weird having a half brother. Or maybe the half brother part isn’t that crazy. It’s having a half brother I didn’t know about until Mom got attacked. It kind of freaks me out.” He looks around like he’s making sure we’re alone.
“Mag’s asleep,” I reassure him.
“I don’t like this place. Feels like a fancy hotel where I’ll break something without even trying. I want to go home,” he says in a cracked voice.