Twenty-Nine
Kyle
As we stepped up to the front door of my house, I reached inside my purse and found my keys. I was about to slide it into the lock when Garin stole it out of my hand.
“My fingers aren’t broken,” I said. “You could at least let me open the door.”
“I’ve got it.”
For the last few days that I’d been at the hospital, he hadn’t let me do anything. No one had. Garin made sure I was doted on and given everything I needed. It felt like the nurse was on-call just for me. Garin also hadn’t left my side for more than an hour or so; he was only gone long enough to drive to his hotel, take a shower, change his clothes, and drive back.
I didn’t know why he had stayed, why he insisted on flying me to Florida, or why he made sure I had everything I needed. In my mind, it was because he cared about me and wanted to spend more time with me—and because, at some point, he’d want to return to the moment we had shared outside the restroom at the bar. That was what I wanted anyway. Affection from him. Closeness. To roll over in the middle of the night and see the shadow of his sleeping body next to my bed. For him to drop the hardness that I’d felt since the funeral, wrap his arms around me, and bury his lips against my neck.
I hadn’t gotten that. I hadn’t gotten anything even close to that.
He pulled my suitcase inside as the alarm went off. I reached for the pad, but his hand reached it before mine. He pressed three-seven-seven-one, as though I’d told him my code.
But I hadn’t.
“How did you know?” I asked.
That was my house number when I’d lived in The Heart. It was the password I’d used for everything back then. I still did.
His eyes narrowed, but his smile was missing. “I forget nothing.”
My memory wasn’t bad, but twelve years was a long time to remember something like that.
He moved to the side, and I stepped into the entryway.
“I flew in my crew and had them clean your place.”
People had been inside my house? While I’d been in the hospital?
If Anthony found out, he would lose his mind…more than he already had.
“But how’d you get a key?”
Anthony was the only person who had a spare key. He didn’t allow me to keep one lying around.
He trusted no one.
Somehow, Anthony would find out what Garin had done. And, somehow, it would be all my fault.
I would be punished for this.
Garin nodded at my purse hanging from my shoulder. “I made a copy of yours.”
I ignored the bleak feeling in my stomach and stepped further inside, noticing how clean everything was. The floors gleamed; the stainless steel was shiny. I didn’t have a housekeeper because Anthony wouldn’t allow it. I’d never been able to get the place to sparkle like this before. It had never smelled so sweet either.
“Did they make cupcakes?”
“Doughnuts with powdered sugar.”
My eyes followed his finger toward the kitchen to the center of the island where three metal racks stood, covered with homemade doughnuts.
A knot lodged in the back of my throat. “You thought of everything.”
“I wanted you to feel comfortable. You’ve gone through a lot.”
I was sure that was true, but his eyes were missing the softness he used to reserve for me. I didn’t know why I thought it would still be there after all this time. I had to clasp my hands behind my back to stop myself from trying to shake it out of him.
“I do feel comfortable,” I said. “I have since the moment I stepped onto your plane.” I set my purse on the console table and tucked my hands into my pockets.
Maybe he needed to hear more from me. Maybe he needed to know where my head was, and that would loosen things between us a little.
“Garin, if you’re doing this out of guilt, then you should know that I’m not angry about the accident. I don’t consider it your fault, and I don’t blame you for any of it.”
I’d known how much he drank that night, but I’d made the decision to get in his car. I knew the consequences. I wasn’t incoherent. What happened after was on me, not him.
He continued to stare at me, his feelings completely masked. “Is your room down the hall?”
I still hadn’t broken through.
“Yes,” I answered.
He gripped the handle of my suitcase and rolled it toward my bedroom as I went to the kitchen. There was a shelf full of water bottles inside the fridge that hadn’t been there before. The other shelves overflowed with fresh food; fruit and vegetables filled both drawers. I was sure my laundry had been done, too, and the sheets washed on both beds, the curtains cleaned and ironed, the lanai couch cushions fluffed and pressed.
The cleanliness, the full fridge, the doughnuts…it still didn’t feel like me in here.
I grabbed a bottle of water and struggled with the cap. My strength hadn’t returned. My body was still trying to heal. The impact of the crash hadn’t just affected my head and lung; my flesh was bruised, my face and chest were covered in cuts, and so were my hands and feet. Garin said I’d taken off my heels when I got into his car. Apparently, I had been a bloody mess when the paramedics pulled me out.
Breath’s babies hadn’t tortured my feet like I imagined.
The dream hadn’t happened.
I’d been in an accident. This was my reality.
“I put your suitcase on the end of your bed,” he said, stopping on the other side of the island.
The knot was back in my throat as he confirmed our time was coming to an end. He had only promised to fly me to Florida. He hadn’t mentioned anything about staying a minute longer. And why should he? I wasn’t his girlfriend or his responsibility. I wasn’t even his friend anymore. He had a job and a life on the other side of the country.
“Thank you.” My fingers grasped the edge of the granite, weakly though. “You did far more than you needed to. I appreciate it—no…” Where were my words? What did I really want to say to him? “I’m grateful, Garin. Grateful that you stayed and oversaw all my care and made sure it was the best I could possibly get. I’m positive the reason I’m standing here right now, so shortly after the accident, is because of you.”
I didn’t deserve his help. His care. His attention.
But I wanted it. God, I wanted it.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asked flatly.
I nodded. “My meds are in my purse. The fridge is stocked. I’m sure I have enough email to keep me busy for days. I’ll be fine.”
His eyes roamed my kitchen and slowly returned to me. “It doesn’t feel like you in here.”
He was right. This house wasn’t me; it was Anthony. It didn’t matter how many times I remodeled or redecorated; I couldn’t find its heart. That was because it had no heart. And no warmth. There wasn’t any warmth in my business either.
And there wasn’t any warmth coming from the man standing across from me. Somehow, before he left, I needed to feel some from him.
“I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Vegas,” I said. “You’ve missed so much work.”
“Anxious? No.”
He had unspoken words. I swore I felt them. I swore that underneath those words was the guy I remembered.
“I—” His phone beeped, cutting him off. He took it out of his pocket and stared at the screen. “Looks like I’m going to be in Florida for the night.”
“You’re staying?”
He continued to read the screen. “My pilot maxed out his hours when he flew in from Vegas to pick us up in Jersey and bring us down to Tampa. He tried to find a replacement crew but couldn’t.” He hit a button and held the phone up to his ear. “I’m going to call my assistant and have her book me a hotel—”
“Stay here.” The words were out of my mouth before he had even finished speaking. “I have a guest room. Or you could take my room, and I’ll sleep in the spare room.”
He said nothing.
“Please, it’s the least I can do. I want you to stay, Garin.”
“I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up.
I knew the consequences of going against Anthony’s warning. I was already in so much trouble with him and would be in even more after he found out Garin’s crew had been inside the house. I didn’t know what he would do to me, and the thought scared the hell out of me.
But I couldn’t let Garin go to a hotel. I couldn’t let him be in this city and not be with me.
“You’re sure about this?”
I looked at the racks of powered doughnuts. “Go get your suitcase from the car, and send the driver home.”