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“In the kitchen,” she called. He made his way deeper into the apartment, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he came up behind her.
“These are for you,” he said, presenting her with the roses. “As a thank you.”
She turned and accepted the roses, returning his kiss. “And the bags?”
“I thought I’d get Mike a couple of changes of clothes. He could wear mine, but he’d look like a fourteen-year-old who’d raided his father’s closet … I don’t think that’s a fashion statement a man in his mid-forties wants to make.” He set the bags on the table. “Is he still asleep?”
“He got up for a little while,” she replied. “He saw video of his apartment on the news. I think it came as a real shock.”
“It would.” He glanced toward the bedrooms. “Has he eaten?”
“He had some soup.” She eyed the bags curiously. “How’d you know his size?”
He chuckled. “Most ADAs learn pretty early to keep a change of clothes at the office. I checked the tags.”
“But if he had clothes at the office…?”
“He needs something that isn’t a suit.” He took the bags again.
“Doesn’t he have anything at his girlfriend’s place? Or isn’t she keeping a separate apartment?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure he does have some things at—his girlfriend’s place. But I don’t feel right about going over there and rifling through her closet.” He met her eyes and smiled briefly. “That smells good—I’ll be back in a minute.”
She smiled back and turned back to the simple roux she was stirring.
The hall was dark enough that he turned on the light, not wanting to wake Cutter by turning on the light in his room. He eased open the door.
Cutter was awake.
“I got you some clothes,” McCoy offered awkwardly.
“Thanks.” Cutter sounded flat, tired.
“I’ll just leave them here.”
McCoy hesitated. “How are you feeling?”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Cutter sounded as though he didn’t care. McCoy bit his lip.
“I want you to take tomorrow off, too,” he said after a moment. “Hal seemed to think that you’d be able to go over Saturday afternoon and see what’s salvageable … I’ll go with you.”
Feeling helpless, McCoy stepped to the bed and touched Cutter’s shoulder. Unable to think of anything to say, he offered a half-encouraging, half-sympathetic smile.
Cutter’s lips twitched with the ghost of a response. It was too dark to read his expression.
Link to [Part 19]