“Fuck that. You’re coming home with me.”
She lifts her head and her eyes light up. “Really? You’d want me there?” The happiness that pinks her cheeks is something I want to see every day of my freakin’ life. My heart races, and I come to her side, curl a hand into her hair, and hold her against me at her nape.
“Yeah, babe. I want you to come home with me. Let me take care of you. Plus, my work is right under my apartment. I’m not scheduled for another class at Lotus for the next three days. And even if we need more time, Gracie can sub for me.”
She looks back down at her lap, and I tilt her chin with my thumb.
“You’re too good to me.” Tears fill her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall.
I tap both of her lips with my thumb, wanting to kiss away her sorrow. “Not possible. Besides, I want you in my home and between my sheets. I think I’m the lucky one in this scenario.” I offer a sexy grin in order to get her mind off the potential downside of suddenly sharing space with one another. I’ve never done that with a woman before, but for some reason, with Honor, I’m not scared or nervous. Right now, it just feels right.
Honor offers one of her beatific smiles, and I swear it mends a crack in my heart. Yep, healing her is going to heal me. She’s what I need. I send up a prayer to the big fella upstairs that I’m man enough to take care of her, to get her through this rough patch and out the other side.
After Moe and her doctor friend get here and we settle up with the doctor about her being discharged, I’m going to call for reinforcements. When my ma finds out my girl is hurt, she’s going to be all over bringing food and pampering her, and she hasn’t even met her. That’s what a good mother does and what Honor deserves. If she’s not getting it from her mother, my mother will be all over it. Not to mention Grace, Dawn, Angela, Cara—even Faith will want in on the action.
Honor Carmichael is about to experience the full Salerno effect far sooner than she thought.
The apartment is dark when I unlock the door and gesture her inside. One of the hotel staff packed up her belongings from the hotel room and met us at the gym.
“Go ahead and get settled on the couch, and I’ll bring in your suitcases.”
She nods but doesn’t speak. Ever since Moe came to the hospital, apologized for whatever happened between them, and introduced Honor to Dr. Batchelor, she’s been quiet. Contemplative. I didn’t leave the room when she spoke with them, and my girl didn’t ask me to. If I’m going to help her, I need to be there for her at all times. I held her hand as the good doctor spoke calmly, confirmed that Honor didn’t actually intend to take her life. Her sessions have been bumped up to twice a week, and she’s now got a weekly lunch date with Monet.
I’ve never been a bigger fan of Monet than when she held Honor’s hand, told her that it wouldn’t be right for her to be her doctor, and that instead she wanted to be her friend. Then she asked her to lunch for later this week. Honor seemed to be surprised that Moe wanted to spend social time with her but happily accepted the date. They hugged, cried, and then Dr. Batchelor set up a regular weekly schedule right onsite.
I drag the suitcases and a couple shoulder bags up the stairs and directly into my bedroom. The apartment is rather large since it runs the entire span of the top of the gym, but it still only has one walled-in bedroom and bathroom. The rest is completely open, almost like a loft. The kitchen needs work—the white cabinets are old and beaten up, but the appliances I scored from the former owner were new. That was a plus. Especially the stove. I love to cook, and the oven and range are pretty stellar.
Right then my stomach growls, and I realize I should probably cook us something to eat.
I enter the living space, and Honor is leaning against the arm of the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes are closed, and her head is resting on her knees.
“Hey, Dove, you want to stretch out, take a nap while I fix us something to eat? You hungry?”
Her eyes open lazily. “I like your home.”
Home. There’s that word again. I wouldn’t consider my bachelor pad a home, but it’s comfortable and suits me well enough.
“Yeah? What do you like about it?” I want her talking, not spending too much time escaping into herself.
“You can put your feet up on the couch and cuddle in.”
“Well, yeah, that’s what couches are for.” I chuckle.
Her lips purse. “You have pictures of your family in frames all over the place. Shows that you’re loved.”
I glance around and note the cluster of family photos on one wall. “Ma brought those pictures and hung them there.” Checking out the room, I glance at several other framed pictures of my sisters, the Lotus House gang, Mila and her family of three. “The rest are images people gave me. So I kind of cheated in my decorating prowess. Most of the furniture was my sister Dawn’s. When she and her husband bought a new home, they gave me their hand-me-downs. It was ideal at the time because I’d just bought this place. Eventually, when I buy my own house and settle down with a woman, we’ll get things together. I
