“No, but I did. And I call bullshit.”
The halfling shot the bag of coffee—perfectly matched to her Goth tastes—a sidelong glance. Then she shrugged and opened the cabinet above the coffee maker to pull down a mug. “Good thing you know me better than he does.”
“It would be weird if I didn’t.” Ember laughed. “There’s creamer in the fridge.”
“I’m good.” Cheyenne filled the mug to the brim and bent over to slurp as much as she could off the top. “Dammit.”
“I know.”
“Now I’m gonna have to thank the guy for turning me on to…” The halfling picked up the coffee bag again and read over the label. “‘World’s strongest coffee.’ They can actually put that on the packaging and get away with it. Unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably delicious.” Laughing, the fae raised her to-go mug again for another sip. “I think I’m in love.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Okay, I’ll thank Mr. Matthew Thomas for the coffee, but you’re gonna have to tell him that last part yourself.”
“What? Shut up. I meant the coffee.” Ember wound her arm back with the coffee mug held tightly in her hand and pretended to throw the whole thing at the laughing half-drow.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cheyenne leaned against the counter and brought the mug to her lips with both hands. “I’m with you on the coffee part, at least.”
They stayed like that, sipping their beverages. Ember cocked her head and studied her friend’s tangled nest of black hair and the sweat stains barely visible on her black shirt. “More bad dreams?”
“Wow. You’re takin’ pages right outta Sherlock Holmes, aren’t ya?”
“Seriously, Cheyenne. I don’t know why you’re still surprised when people can see what’s going on. It’s written all over your face.”
“Yeah, people keep saying that.”
Ember smirked. “This time it’s written in dirt, though.”
“Oh.” Cheyenne wiped her cheek and smeared a streak of sweat and dirt.
“Aw. That just made it worse.”
“Okay. In lieu of wanting to drink the best cup of coffee I’ve had in a ridiculously long time while it’s still hot, are you up for ignoring the way I look right now so I can drink the Death Wish and tell you all about it?”
“Halfling, I thought you’d never ask.” Ember wedged the to-go mug between her legs again and wheeled herself across the kitchen and into the massive living room. “And just FYI, I’ve been ignoring the way you look since we met.”
“How very thoughtful of you.” Cheyenne pressed her lips together through another smile and followed her friend toward the new black leather couch and the matching recliners. “Next, you’re gonna say you never judge a book by its cover, and the only thing that matters is what’s on the inside.”
The fae pulled her wheelchair up to the edge of the black and silver area rug and shot the halfling a condescending look. “No, next I’m gonna tell you to quit being such a smartass and get to the good stuff already.”
“How ‘bout one outta two?” Cheyenne lowered herself onto the leather recliner closest to her friend. “I don’t think I moved an inch all night.”
“You know, I almost came to check on you. Then I figured it was in my best interests not to get my head blown off by a cranky drow halfling needing her beauty rest.”
Laughing, the half-drow ruffled her mussed, damp hair, then waved her hand in a circle around her face. “Obviously, that was successful.”
“Okay, I know I’m the one who brought it up, but if you can promise me this is the last time we ever say the words ‘beauty sleep’ again, I’m willing to forget this part of the conversation ever happened.”
“Deal.” Cheyenne hovered over her steaming mug of coffee and took a long sip. “Okay. Where do you want me to start?”
“How about right after you bounced yesterday morning, rambling about urgent messages and driving to DC?”
“Huh.” the halfling nodded slowly and lifted the mug over the side of the armchair so she could pull her legs up off the floor and cross them beneath her. “That feels like three days ago.”
“Uh-huh. So does spending all day with our friendly neighbor, who’s apparently got an endless supply of ways to ‘make himself useful’ and excuses to stick around a little longer.” Ember smirked over the lid of her mug and took another sip when her friend snorted. “Just a heads-up. ‘I’ve got some time to kill,’ is Matthew Thomas code for ‘I’ll be here all day unless you tell me without smiling that you don’t want me here anymore.’”
“That’s what you had to tell him, huh?”
“Yeah, and he thought I was joking at first.” Ember raised her eyebrows and stared at the coffee table.
“Ouch.”
“You know what? It’s good practice for me. Forget Sherlock Holmes. I’m taking a page out of the halfling’s book. You don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.”
Cheyenne licked her lips and tried not to laugh. “Well, don’t try to be too much like me, Em. I’m pretty sure that’s how I keep getting myself into these screwed-up situations. You’re gonna think I’m making this up when I tell you what happened yesterday.”
Ember spread her arms and leaned forward in her chair to shout, “So why the hell are we still talking about it? Storytime. Go!”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
When Cheyenne finished rattling off the major points of her messed-up Sunday, Ember blinked and lifted her mug to her lips again. It tilted all the way up before she realized it was empty and jammed it back into her lap. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and go with eighty percent.”
The halfling laughed and folded her arms, her right leg slung over one of the recliner’s armrests while she leaned back against the other. She’d put her empty mug on the coffee table halfway through the tale. “Eighty percent of what is what?”
“Eighty percent of that story is total bull.”
The housemates stared at each other, and Cheyenne almost pushed up
