46. Haven

Wick didn’t try to seduce me when we reached the apartment. He must’ve sensed I was no longer in the mood. When I mumbled something about starting a stew for supper, he let me retreat without following me.

It took about five minutes of me banging around the kitchen, dragging every vegetable I could find onto the countertops, and lining them up by size, then color, before I realized Wick had left me alone. He didn’t leave me alone when I was upset. He lingered on the fringes, watching me like a hawk, always alert and ready to step in if he was needed.

Why the hell had he left me alone?

Something was wrong. Oh Lord, what if removing his stitches had hurt him? Dropping the carrots I was trying to wedge between the celery and red peppers, I turned and hurried from the kitchen.

When I reached his room, his door was open a foot. I lifted my hand to knock as I approached, but then I paused when I saw him inside pacing and looking extremely agitated.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch,” he his