Hours later, Carlos once again pulled off to the side of the road.  I opened my eyes, not remembering closing them.  By my feet, the bag of food remained untouched.

Behind us, I heard a door slam and turned to see everyone exiting their vehicles.  I knew we needed to practice, but I didn’t want to do it.  Still, I opened my door and joined them.  I didn’t need to tell them to form up or to give direction to Sam and Grey.

Like earlier in the day, they broke through each time, teaming up to find or make a weak link.

“Stop,” I called after the third attempt.  “If the ring collapses, Clay, Emmitt, and Thomas should fall back to protect the center three.  Jim should pair with Grey, Winifred with Sam, and Carlos with me, and Bethi with Luke.  Pair off and spend some time fighting back to back.”

When everyone grouped into fours, attackers versus defenders, I rolled my shoulders and turned to go back to the car.

“Shouldn’t we practice?” Carlos asked, following me.

“Not now.  Not today.  I’m tired of fighting.”

He kept quiet as I shut myself into the car again.

*    *    *    *

I curled into the seat, turning slightly to stare out the window.

The sun started to set and cast shadows over the landscape.  My stomach dipped at the haunting familiarity, and my gaze searched the darkness for the nonexistent, approaching horde.

I shivered and turned away from the window.  My gaze settled on Carlos’ profile.

As usual, I felt nothing from him.  How could he stand closing himself off like that?  My emotions were all over the place.  Sorrow.  Anger.  Regret.  But most of all, loneliness.

“Can I lean against you?” I asked softly.

“Yes.”

There’d been no hesitation in his answer.  Would he have answered differently if he knew why I wanted to lean on him?

I shifted in my seat, inching closer to him.  His wide shoulders took up more than his share of space, so it didn’t take too much leaning to reach him.  Warmth seeped through his shirtsleeve the moment my cheek rested on it.

Closing my eyes with a sigh, I pretended I leaned on Ethan.  He was alive, and we were driving.  His right shoulder wasn’t hurt anymore.

The ache in my middle eased.  Eventually, my breathing slowed, and I drifted to sleep.

*    *    *    *

The sudden stillness and absence of noise tickled my awareness.  A door opened, and Carlos left me leaning against the seat.  A moment later, an arm wrapped around my back and another slid under my legs.  I floated for a second before he cradled me against his chest.

Struggling against sleep, I opened my eyes and looked up at him.  Light chased the shadows on his face.  Stubble coated the curve of his jaw.  I couldn’t remember him ever having whiskers.

He glanced down at me, shadow covering his face, so I couldn’t read his expression.

“Go back to sleep.  I have you.”

I sighed and closed my eyes again.

*    *    *    *

As I rolled from my back to my side, something told me to burrow in deeper and let sleep pull me under once more.  My eyes refused to be team players.

Dim light shone from behind drawn curtains, giving the space around me definition.  A bed across from mine.  A table with a lamp attached to the wall above it.  I gazed at the unfamiliar sights as my groggy mind tried to place where I might be.

The car.  Carlos carrying me.

I blinked at the bed across from me.  As if sensing my regard, Carlos rolled from his back to his side so he faced me.  He wasn’t under the covers but on top of them, fully clothed.  I could just see his face.  His eyes were open.

I could feel the fear of a young child and the annoyance from another person further away but nothing nearby.

“Where’d Grey sleep?”

“With Jim, I think.”

Carlos made no move to get out of bed, so I didn’t either.

“How long have we been here?”

“Since two.  About six hours.”

“Anyone else awake?”

“No.”  He was quiet for a moment.  “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“I know you’re not fine.  It’s been days since you sparred with anyone.  You should—”

“No.”

He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly.

“All right.  Are you hungry?”

I shrugged.

“Get dressed,” he said, sitting up.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  He stood and left the room.

With a sigh, I left my warm nest and shuffled into the bathroom.  The light nearly blinded me.  I ignored my scabbed face in the mirror and paused at the sight of my brush, toothbrush, and paste neatly laid out on the counter.  The bottom of each item was precisely in line with the rest.

Carlos had serious OCD going on.

It took me less than two minutes to use the toilet and brush my teeth and hair.  I didn’t bother with clean clothes.  What I’d slept in was good enough.  I felt like crap on the inside and could care less how I looked on the outside.

In the main room, I found my runners at the end of the bed.  I slipped on socks then laced up my shoes.

When I opened the hotel room door, Carlos waited in the hallway.

“Good morning, Isabelle,” he said softly.

I’d thought we’d already covered that in the room.

“Good morning.”

It seemed the correct response because he turned and started walking down the hall.  I followed him, watching my feet.  Carpet changed to tile, and I looked up.  We were in a room just off the lobby.  Actually, other than the change of flooring, it was essentially still the lobby.  A counter ran along one wall.  Three steamer trays, a clear display of muffins and mini-bagels, and a waffle maker summed up the hotel’s complimentary breakfast.

Carlos went to the steamers and lifted the first lid.  I peeked around him and saw eggs.  They smelled good, and my stomach actually rumbled.  I picked up a plate and held it out like a kid in a cafeteria.  He scooped a helping onto it then lifted the next lid.  Bacon.  He put three pieces on my plate.  He lifted the final lid.  French toast.  I shook my head.

“I’d rather have a waffle.”

“I’ll start it for you.  Sit down and eat.”

I did as he said.  He brought me a cup of milk before he returned with a plate of his own and joined me.

Carlos watched me as I speared a clump of eggs and put it in my mouth.

The flavor took me off guard.  It tasted good.  My stomach rumbled until I finished the eggs.  I set down my fork, using my fingers to bite into a piece of bacon.  The saltiness was delicious.  I chewed slowly, wondering why this food tasted so different.  I wasn’t starving.  I’d been eating.  A little.

I realized the food hadn’t changed. I had.  I was still angry, still devastated, but something was different.

A beep distracted me.  I started chewing again and watched Carlos get up and go to the waffle maker.  The thing he brought back was the size of my head.  Probably the right portion size for werewolves.

Carlos set the plate before me then sat.  I drowned the waffle in syrup and took a bite.  It was good, just like the eggs had been.  We ate in silence, and I tried not to think too much.  When I did, my thoughts always found a way back to Ethan.

Just before I took my last bite, Clay, Gabby, Emmitt, Michelle, and Jim came in.

“I smell pancakes,” Jim said.  He looked at Carlos and me for confirmation.

“Waffles,” I said when Carlos remained quiet.

“Just as good.”  Jim playfully pushed his brother out of the way to get to the waffle maker first.

I turned away from their playful antics and waited for Carlos to finish.  When he stood, he took both our plates.

“We’re supposed to meet in room 237 at ten,” Emmitt said to Carlos when he noticed us getting ready to leave.

Carlos nodded and threw our plates in the garbage.  I followed him from the room with no intention of going to another one of their little packed-room meetings.  Just the thought of it made me twitchy.  Hiding out in my room sounded like a better plan.