The driver opened the car door, and Derek stepped out, coughing gently into his fist.
As he turned to climb the terrace stairs, he stopped short. Kai stood at the top of them, watching him. The two of them simply looked at one another for a long moment, cousin to cousin, a whole month of silence and fury and grief sitting in the space between them.
Kai had not spoken to him, had not so much as looked at him, in all that time.
A few minutes later, they were inside, sitting together at the bar in the living room.
"How are you?" Kai asked.
Derek reached for the bottle. "How do I look?"
Kai considered him for a beat. "Like a piece of shit, honestly."
Derek nodded and poured himself a measure. "That's fair." He downed it in one.
"I hear you're planning to apologise to the werewolves soon," Kai said.
Derek nodded and took another sip. Then he coughed again, quietly, into his palm.
Kai's eyes narrowed a little, watching him. "You cough now?"
