Page 131 of The Other Side

Osian bit his lip. “Coffee and a croissant?”

“Yes, please,” Drum managed, his voice tight.

“You two sit down. I’ll get everything ready.” Osian turned on the oven, then set about brewing the coffee.

Kit settled next to Drum. “I can see you’re hurting.”

“I’m alive. I’m not complaining.”

“I’m surprised the hospital let you out.”

“Ah, well I didn’t want to be in there any longer.”

“Hmm.”

“Kit followed your scent all the way from the cottage to the hills above Linton,” Osian said.

Drum looked up, his expression softening. “Thank you.”

“Luke said he’s the best tracker they have,” Osian added.

Kit’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he shrugged again. “It’s true. I am. That’s part of the reason I’m here in Sparlow. The pack I used to belong to in Wales didn’t exactly love that a puny weredog was better at following a trail than they were.”

“You’re a weredog?” Drum blinked, momentarily distracted from his pain. “Oh yes, you are. Osian said. I was only just getting my head around the whole werewolf thing, let alone the rest of the unusual inhabitants of this village.”

“He’s a very pretty lurcher,” Osian called out from the counter. He slid the tray of croissants into the oven.

Kit’s blush deepened.

“So you left your pack and came here?” Osian brought over the first mug of coffee and handed it to Kit.

“My pack tried to kill me. Mikkel found me half-dead, beaten to within an inch of my life. He brought me here to recover. That was five months ago.”

“And you run the café now?” Drum asked.

Kit shook his head. “No, it’s Willow’s place. I just help out sometimes and do a little baking. I was a doctor before things went wrong.”

Osian paused, a sudden, sharp niggle of worry setting up residence in his chest. “You can still do that, can’t you? You’re not trapped here. I mean, you could leave Sparlow and go and be a doctor, if you wanted to. I know this place doesn’t easily let people in, but they can get out, surely? You could leave.”

“No, I can’t,” Kit said quietly and Osian’s heart lurched.

Maybe Kit saw the shock on his face, because he shook his head. “I mean, physically I could walk or drive away from here, yes, but I won’t. I like Sparlow, even if I’m a bit lonely. Though I have hopes that might change.”

“Why can’t you leave and be a doctor?” Drum asked, leaning forward slightly, then wincing at the movement.

Kit looked between them, hesitant. “Can I show you? Touch you, Drum?”

Drum glanced at Osian, then back to Kit. “Sure.”

“Your ribs are broken on both sides, right?”

“Yes. More painful on the right.”

Kit shifted closer and extended his hands. He placed his palms gently and deliberately, onto each side of Drum’s bruised chest.

In the kitchen, Osian froze. He was in the middle of pouring more coffee, but he hastily set the glass container down before he overfilled the mug. When Drum’s eyes suddenly snapped shut, Osian instinctively took a hard step toward the couch. What the fuck is he doing to Drum?

Osian waited. One long, taut minute crawled by. Then Drum sucked in a ragged breath. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock, locking onto Kit, who pulled his hands back.