“Want more orange juice?”
She scrunched her nose as she looked up at me. “With tacos?”
I shrugged. I’d seen her have weirder combinations, like pizza and milk. The first time I witnessed that, I truly thought something was wrong with her.
“Gross.” She shook her head. “Water is fine.”
I chuckled softly as I walked back into the kitchen, grabbing us both waters and bringing them back to the table. “You want yours like you usually have them?”
“Yes. Please. Extra?—”
“Guacamole,” I finished for her. Months of eating at Mamacitas and a few nights of making us tacos here while we watched a movie had her preferences when it came to this dish etched in my brain.
She nodded and smiled. I stared at her for probably longer than I should have, remembering the moment in the truck as we drove toward the accident and I thought about her smile, her laugh. I turned back to the kitchen, shaking off the memory as I plated ourfood.
I brought our plates to the table and sat down across from her. “Your mom coming over tomorrow?”
“Yeah. She’s going to help me shower and wash my hair.”
I willed my brain not to think of Lyla naked and soapy. Friends didn’t do that. “I’ll probably run to the grocery store while she’s here. Just let me know what you want, and I’ll get it.”
She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll need to let Dylan know so he can have patrol drive by while I’m gone.”
A sigh passed through her lips. “I really think he’s wrong about this whole thing.”
I cocked a brow. “Wrong about what?”
“The arsonist coming after me.” She shrugged. “It could have just been an accident. People flee the scene for so many different reasons. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen that at a crash site.”
“Getting scared and fleeing the scene of an unintentional collision, sure. But Kyle was pretty adamant the car purposely ran him off the road.” I studied her before adding, “And he used to be military. Personally, I trust his instincts.”
“I do too. But, I don’t know… Assuming it was the arsonist because hethinksI can ID him seems like a pretty big stretch.”
“I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch at all.” It was suspicious enough that they hadn’t been able to locate the kid. But then Dylan had updated us earlier that the godfather finally turned up back at his house with a gash on his left cheek. One consistent with an injury sustained in a car accident. Of course, he denied being involved, and he wouldn’t give any further information on where his godson was.
She shrugged. “I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Right. Because I never wanted to experience the fear of losing her again.
We chatted about her follow-up appointment for the concussion the following week, and my first shift back later that same week. Then the usual random type of stuff we always talkedabout. And by the time she finished her food, it was obvious she was getting tired.
“I can clean up if you want to go in and get ready for bed.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she nodded. “I’m suddenly exhausted.”
“Concussions will do that.” I stood and helped her to her feet, taking a few steps with her.
She paused and looked up at me. “I’m good.”
I let out a deep breath. She chose to stay with me over her parents because she believed I wouldn’t hover. So, as much as it pained me, I nodded and watched her maneuver down the hall toward the guest room.
I carried our plates into the kitchen and began cleaning up. It wasn’t long before I heard her calling my name, and I left everything right where it was to venture down the hall to her. Standing in front of her closed door, I knocked. “You need something?”
“Yes. Can you help me, please?”
I opened the door and found Lyla sitting on her bed, face flushed red. She had the sling off, lying next to her on the mattress, along with a T-shirt. I tried not to stare at her legs that were exposed in the short sleep shorts she wore.
