The Taste of Home

Chapter 31

"Does that metal box always growl?" Isabella asked, her spines still bristling from the trip in the elevator.

"Some days more than others," Miguel said with a chuckle. It certainly beat taking the stairs, at least until he got his stitches taken out. Dr. Wilkins would never let him hear the end of it if he hurt himself on his first day out of the hospital, although he wouldn't mind having an excuse to keep his arm wrapped around Alejandro for a little longer.

The moment the three of them entered Alejandro's apartment, a warm hug filled with the scent of chili peppers welcomed Miguel home. "So happy to see you're feeling better!" Mrs. Morales said. "Alejandro and I will have dinner ready for you in a bit."

"You really don't have to go to so much trouble over me," Miguel said.

"Nonsense! It's the least we can do for you, pobrecito." Mrs. Morales ushered Miguel to the couch and draped her mother's quilt over his shoulders. "Take it easy and let us take care of you, okay?"

"Okay." Miguel leaned back with a sigh, grateful for the excuse to stay off his feet. As much as he wanted to help out in the kitchen, his leg still ached if he stood in place for too long.

"I'll be right back." Alejandro gave Miguel's hand a quick squeeze before retreating to his bedroom.

"I'm glad I'm leaving you in such capable hands, hermanito," Isabella said. She hugged her arms close to her chest as she stayed close to the door.

"Leaving?" Miguel asked. "But you just got here."

"You don't need me here," she said, her spines sagging. There was no firmness left in her voice, only a quiet tiredness.

"Well, I want you here." Miguel looked up at her from inside his blanket nest, patting the spot beside him. "Please."

Isabella curled and uncurled her claws. "I need to get back to the pack before nightfall, but I can stay for dinner. Is there anything I can do to help?" She squinted at the oven as if she was sizing up potential prey. "I am sure that cannot be too difficult to use."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind—"

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Morales took hold of Isabella's hand and dragged her toward the couch. "Sit. You're a guest, and you're not lifting a single finger under my watch. I'm sure these two would be glad to give you cooking lessons some other day."

"But—"

"Yes, your butt on that couch." Mrs. Morales crossed her arms. "Now."

Isabella narrowed her eyes, drawing herself up to her full height. Mrs. Morales didn't flinch.

"Fine." Isabella eased herself onto the couch with a groan.

Miguel stifled a laugh. She had finally met her match.

He made room for her under the quilt. "Watch your spines," he said. "They'll get caught if you aren't careful."

Alejandro brought them an armful of blankets. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he said, pressing his lips against Miguel's forehead.

The kiss brought a deep thrum out of Miguel. "And I'll be right here."

Yet, Alejandro lingered. "Are you sure you don't need anything? Ice pack? Pain meds?"

Stars, he was still so worried!

And it was all Miguel's fault.

He forced himself to smile. "Don't worry about me, Moonbeam. I'm fine."