Lindsey had decided to stay in this house, in this town. Whatever she feared, she feared it no longer.
A weight was now gone from her shoulders.
I recognized it, as I’d felt that feeling myself not so very long ago.
Thusly, I no longer needed to milk the situation in order to stay in her house. I could return to my own without the fear she’d vanish in the night.
Using the end of the movie as an excuse, I stood, stronger on my feet than I’d had since Austin lobbed a Molotov cocktail through my window. In her office behind her, I rested both of my hands on her shoulders.
“You’ve decided to stay,” I murmured. “Right?”
Lindsey stopped typing. “I guess so.”
“Whatever is out there is still out there. Right?”
“Yeah.”
I spun her chair so that she faced me. “I’m right beside you, girl. All the way.”
Lindsey avoided my eyes. “You might get hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt.” I touched my left cheek, drawing her attention back to my face. “Not just my body, though it has plenty of scars. My heart has its scars, my soul once crying out in torment. Nothing can be worse than that.”
“I can’t have your pain on my conscience.”
I knelt beside her chair. “That’s not your decision.”
“It should be.”
Bending my head, I kissed her knuckles, one set after the other. “It’s out of your beautiful, graceful hands. Deal with it.”
“You’re a bastard.”
Lifting my face, I smiled. “Deal with that, too. Consider me one of those nasty sticker things, the ones that you step on, and its thorn is buried in your foot forever.”
Lindsey chuckled. “What a royal pain.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Nor do I care. I’m at your side all the way. Or, in your foot.” I grinned. “If you prefer that analogy.”
Lindsey cupped my jaws in her hands, gazing deeply into my eyes. “I can fight my own battles.”
“Good god, you’re a stubborn woman.” Grimacing, I got to my feet. “I know you can fight. I know you think you’re protecting me. Get over yourself, and let’s have some lunch. I’m starving. And you’re driving.”
“What? I’ve got work –”
“Suck it up, buttercup. Grab your keys.”
Lindsey drove us to the same diner, and the same hostess sat us at a table. She eyed my facial scar as though I’d grown cloven hooves and horns, but she set menus before us and departed hastily. I saw no sign of Austin Rivers nor his sidekick, and absently wondered if Lindsey was correct. He finally believed I never took his dope.
“I’ve got a decent credit score,” I mused, chewing on a straw from my water glass. “I should get a new ride.”
“Do you still have a job?”
“So far. My boss hasn’t fired me. I should get back to the job site, anyway.”
