Page 37 of Rauf: Minotaur Mates

He drew breath as though he had more to say, then thought better of it. He squeezed past me, giving Teresa considerably more room than he needed.

I listened until his footsteps faded. Then I wished he was still there.

Teresa was still in my shirt. Her hair was damp, though she’d managed to smooth it after I’d had my hands in it. A mark showed just above the collar. I remembered putting it there, and suddenly it was difficult to look at her face.

She caught me looking anyway. Her fingers went to the collar, then dropped.

I should have touched her. Taken her hand, at least.

“I’ll leave your shirt in the shower room,” she said.

“All right.”

She looked down and folded the longer cuff back again, getting it even with the other one. I waited for her to say something else.

I’d fucked this up. I knew it, and I had no idea what to say that wouldn’t make it worse.

Now I was supposed to drive her back to town and let her go.

But what the fuck was I supposed to do when we arrived? Watch her get out and tell her to have a pleasant evening?

“Rauf?” Teresa said.

Drev was coming back with her clothes.

“All dry,” he said, handing the bundle over. “Even got most of the mud out.”

“Thank you.” Teresa took them against her chest. She looked at me once more, then went to change.

I watched until she turned out of sight. Drev waited beside me with a grin on his face.

“So?”

“Shut up.”

He held up his hands. I went outside before he decided that only applied to the next few seconds.

By the time Teresa joined me, I had the passenger door open. She took my offered hand and climbed in. Her fingers were warm in mine, and she let go as soon as she was seated.

I shut the door and walked around the truck.

Her clothes looked exactly as they had before we’d gone out to find the goats, only cleaner. That shouldn’t have bothered me. I’d been the one to wash them.

I started the engine.

The road into town wasn’t long, which was fortunate, because neither of us seemed capable of saying a fucking word. Teresa sat with her hands in her lap and watched the road. I slowed for the worst ruts, though I usually drove straight through them.

Once, I glanced over and found her looking at me. I had time to open my mouth before she turned back toward the window.

By the time the buildings came into view, I’d begun to hope that Korfas would have enough questions to keep us at the clinic for a while.

People were spilling into the street. Otho stood in the middle of them, shouting at Korfas, who kept turning as though he couldn’t decide which way to go. A male beside the clinic steps was pointing down the road. Another tried to pull Korfas the other way.

“What happened?” Teresa leaned forward, looking past me. “Is that Julia?”

A woman sat on the broad clinic steps with a cloth pressed to her face. One cheek had swollen around the edge of it. There was blood on her sleeve.

Beside her stood Maisie, holding a basket against one hip. I’d seen her with Kazan often enough to recognize her. I’d never seen her look ready to hit someone.