The gold and blue afghan Nick’s mother had crocheted him was snuggled under my chin, smelling faintly of Ivory soap. What I recognized as a pain amulet lay on the nightstand—right beside the finger stick. Nick thought of everything. If he could have invoked it, he would have.

I sat up looking for him, knowing by the scent of coffee that he was probably nearby. The afghan pooled about me as I swung my feet to the floor. Muscles protesting, I reached for the amulet. My ribs hurt and my back was sore. Head bowed, I pricked my finger for the three drops of blood to invoke the charm. Even before I slipped the cord over my head, I felt myself relax in immediate relief. It was all muscle aches and bruises, nothing that wouldn’t heal.

I squinted in the artificial dusk. An abandoned coffee cup pulled my eyes to a slump of clothes on the chair. It moved in a gentle rhythm, becoming Nick asleep with his long legs sprawled out before him. He was sock-footed, since he wouldn’t let shoes on his carpet, and his big feet pulled a smile from me.

I sat, content to do nothing for the moment. Nick’s day started six hours earlier than mine, and a faint stubble made early shadows on his long face slack in slumber. His chin rested on his chest, his short black hair falling to hide his eyes. They opened as a primitive part of him felt my gaze on him. My smile grew as he stretched in the chair, a sigh slipping from him.

“Hi, Ray-ray,” he said, his voice pooling like brown puddle-warm water about my ankles. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” I was embarrassed that he had witnessed what happened, embarrassed he’d saved me, and heartily glad he had been there to do both.

He came to sit beside me, his weight making me slide into him. My breath made a relieved, contented sound as I fell against him. He put his arm around me and gave me a sideways squeeze. I rested my head against his shoulder, taking the scent of old books and sulfur deep into me. Slowly my heartbeat became obvious as I sat and did nothing, taking strength simply from his presence.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his hand buried deep in my hair as he held me.

I pulled away to look at him. “Yes. Thanks. Where’s Ivy?” He didn’t say anything, and my face went slack in alarm. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

His hand dropped from my hair. “She’s on the floor where I left her.”

“Nick!” I protested, pushing myself away from him so I could sit straight. “How could you just leave her there?” I stood, looking for my bag and realizing he hadn’t brought it. I was still barefoot, too. “Take me home,” I said, knowing the bus wouldn’t pick me up.

Nick had risen when I did. His face flashed into alarm and his eyes dropped. “Shit,” he said under his breath. “I’m sorry. I thought you said no to her.” His gaze flicked to mine and away, his long face looking pained, disappointed, and red with embarrassment. “Aw, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry. Yeah. Yeah, come on. I’ll get you home. Maybe she hasn’t woken up yet. I’m really, really sorry. I thought you said no. Oh God. I shouldn’t have interfered. I thought you said no!”