Chapter 137: Her Husbands Were Built for Heavy Lifting

Thorne checked the stair from the dry dock while Dove stayed beside their unloaded cart. The lower flight was sound. At the turn, a metal bracket had bent enough to pull the landing away from the wall, leaving a gap she could see through from below.

"Fixable?" she asked, looking up at him. "Actual fixable, not man trying to impress wife fixable."

"You married me after seeing me eat. I’m past pretending I’m elegant." He pressed a hand to the bent bracket. "The wall’s sound. Give me a minute."

Edrik climbed behind him and reinforced the rail under his hand while Thorne worked. Thorne eased the metal back into place. Thorne tightened the existing bolts after shaping the bracket. They tested the landing after Edrik released his grip; the repair held without his power before they waved her up. Dove kept one hand on the rail, grateful for boots instead of trying to look attractive while climbing industrial stairs.

The upper service door opened into a stockroom above the flooded sales floor. Tall shelves ran toward a row of windows, with boxed clothing along the dry wall and household goods farther in. A fire door led to the store’s public stairs, where water shone well below them. They kept that door clear and used the dry service stair for every load.

No bedding, recent food, fresh claim, or occupied office suggested someone lived here. Two scavengers on the loading dock said the upper stock was open salvage. Edrik checked anyway before Dove began sorting, because a friendly answer wasn’t the same thing as a checked room.

She started with what they’d been asked for: work pants in the driver’s size. Then shirts broad enough for her husbands, cotton sheets, towels, and underwear still in its packets. Some boxes were damp near the public stairs. She left those closed and chose dry stock she could actually use.

"You have enough shirts for yourself?" Thorne asked when she added another pack to his pile.

"Are you offering to inspect my wardrobe?"

"I’m offering to carry it."

"Very smooth. You may live another day."

She chose two fitted tops and a loose sleeping shirt, holding the latter against herself. Edrik looked over the edge of his carton. The shirt barely reached the middle of her thighs. His attention moved to her face with no attempt to pretend he’d been reading the label.

"I’m sleeping in it," she told him. "Try not to look so excited about laundry."

"I was thinking about bedtime."

Thorne coughed into a towel, and Dove put the shirt in her own bag before either man got worse. The fresh reaction notice stayed small at the edge of her view. "No second batch?" she asked Sprout, eyeing the empty daily-stock tab. "Worth asking." It offered to show her tomorrow’s timer instead. She returned to the shelves before she started arguing with a clock.

The men moved boxed goods to the landing while she stored manageable bundles by touch. She sat between loads, drinking water and checking the next shelf from her chair. Giving orders while seated turned out to suit her beautifully.

Behind a row of plastic bins she found more discs and a spare carrying case. One was the sequel to the comedy in the player. Thorne put it on top of her personal pile without waiting for her to ask, and Dove caught his sleeve.

"You remembered the name?"

"You told us the entire plot in the truck."

"That’s called sharing my interests. You’re welcome."

He bent for her kiss with a pleased look that made it difficult to remember she was supposed to be sorting by size. Edrik waited until Thorne moved before setting a sealed razor kit beside her hand. Replacement heads were packed inside. Dove gave the bear a grin, delighted he had found something he wanted.

At the dock, one scavenger stared when she came down behind Edrik. He was a tall fox beastman carrying a bag of blankets. His eyes lingered on her ears, then her body, before he offered to carry her back up the stairs.

"I can manage steps," Dove said. "You can tell me whether that road stays dry toward the diner."

Thorne appeared beside her carrying a carton. The fox looked at his shoulders and decided directions were an excellent use of his mouth. He described the raised block where the convoy was loading, then returned to his own blankets. Nobody had to die over a staircase. Dove considered that a pleasant improvement.

They tested a small desk lamp from a shared power lead at the driver’s loading point. It worked, so she kept it with the extension cord from the appliance store. She put batteries that matched their fan with the household supplies. Other sound sizes went into the trade cartons with everything else they could carry.

Thorne found boots in his size on the final shelf. Dove made him try both, then walk across the stockroom before packing them. He looked offended until she reminded him that carrying her over muddy roads was hard on badly fitting feet.

"I’d hate to lose my favorite ride over a blister."

"Favorite?" Edrik asked from the door.

"Don’t start. You’ve both been unbearable since breakfast."

He smiled and took the boot box. They recovered six sheet sets, four men’s clothing bundles, two women’s clothing bundles, towels, sealed toiletries, the lamp, and the discs before calling the search finished. Dove wanted more, but the marked departure time was getting close. She refused to lose their actual ride while flirting about another one. They checked the landing together before carrying the final load down.

At the lower landing, Edrik stopped with the last carton against his hip. He didn’t look at Dove. He looked past their cart toward the parked vehicles along the side street, then set the box down slowly.

She followed his gaze. A man beside a gray pickup had gone still while watching Thorne load their things. She couldn’t place his face from here, but she recognized the change in Edrik’s.

He came close enough that only she could hear. "Keep walking toward the cart. That man by the gray pickup was the one who ran from the van."