Gentle fingers touched Sid’s face again, though Dante kept his magical thumbs to himself.Damn him. Another wave of fatigue swept over Sid, reminding him he was on the arse end of a heat crisis, darkening the room and pulling him under.
Dante said something else, but Sid didn’t hear him. He sunk into the couch like water through a sieve.I’m so fucking tired.
“I know,” Dante whispered. “Go to sleep. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
The prospect of Dante leaving was dulled by the promise of his return. Sid flailed his arm and found the hand touching his face, twining his clumsy fingers with the warmth Dante offered in return. “You never did tell me how you got in here.”
Dante chuckled, deep and low. “Maybe later. Sleep now, mate. I’ll be back, I promise.”
* * *
Dante retrieved the zombie blade and returned it to the tool shed. Then he gathered the lavender he’d harvested and took it to the storage pod where Sid had hung other flowers to dry. He strung more twine from one corner to the other and clipped the lavender stems upside down. Frowning, he snapped a picture to send Sid.
Dante:did I do it right?
Sid didn’t reply, and Dante didn’t expect him to. He’d been out cold when Dante had finally peeled himself away and returned to work, and he’d stayed that way all afternoon.
Dante locked the tool shed and slipped the key into his pocket. He stepped into the evening sun, blinded by the low rays as they sank over the horizon.
“You’re working late.”
The voice was brand new and yet oddly familiar.
Dante spun around.
A woman stood behind him, leaning on a gate post, golden hair in a braid over her shoulder, her cornflower gaze as piercing as Sid’s when he wasn’t delirious with fatigue.
His sister.
Histwinsister.
Dante wiped his dirty hands on his already muddy shorts. “I had a lot to do.”
“Because you spent all day taking care of my brother?”
“Or I’m a slow worker.”
The woman grinned so like Sid that Dante would’ve pegged her a mile off, even without their shared hair and eyes. The only stark difference between them was their size. Where Sid was tall and strong, his sister was petite—delicate, almost, though instinct told Dante she was far from fragile.
She pushed off the gatepost and came closer, hand outstretched as Dante had predicted. “I’m Anna,” she said. “Sid’s sister. He already told me you’re not a slow worker, so try again.”
“At what?”
“At whatever bullshit you’re going to say to protect him from me finding out he collapsed today.”
Dante shook Anna’s hand, noting, as if he needed to, that despite her ethereal beauty, her touch left him cold and bereft of the scorching heat of her brother. “I wasn’t going to bullshit you.”
“Good. Then we can be friends.”
“Okay.”
Anna released Dante’s hand, gestured for him to keep walking, and fell into step beside him. “Benjamin called me this afternoon. He said Sid missed two meals, which is always a red flag for a relapse. He also told me he’d seen you going back and forth to check on him, so I wanted to find you and introduce myself.”
Dante shot her a sideways glance. “Didyoucheck on him?”
“Of course. I woke him up and forced him off the couch and into his bed, so he thinks I’m an arsehole.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.”