“Because it was your idea,” I explained. “And I like the idea of you having a say in things around here.”
I stopped myself from saying anything more. I needed to remember that everything with Slade and me was still new, and he would be skittish for a long time to come. Tipping my hand wouldn’t do either of us any good.
“Come on, brat. Let’s go home,” I said before he could get worked up. I helped him into the car, leaning in to buckle his seatbelt. When he opened his mouth to protest, I pressed a finger to his lips. “Humor an old man. I want to do this for you.”
He settled back into the seat. “Okay, Daddy.”
Slade was quiet the entire way home.
“You do realize this is the first time I’m seeing where you live?” he asked as I wound through the neighborhood. It wasn’t an accusation or meant to make me feel guilty, it was a simple statement.
“And I’m sorry for that, sweetheart.” If I explained why I had been reluctant to bring him home, would he understand? Would he even believe me?
“What changed your mind?”
“I want to do right by you,” I explained. “No matter what, I always want you to know I want you wherever I am. You’ve seen me at work, now I want to see you in my home. Someday, I’d love nothing more than to discuss you getting rid of that shit hole apartment you live in.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t a shit hole,” Slade protested.
“I lied. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. It’s horrible.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. You say the word and I’ll go and pack my shit.”
“The word.” It was corny as hell, but now that I knew Slade was open to the idea, I wasn’t wasting any time.
“That was horrible.” It was, but he was laughing, so that was good. I stared at him, waiting for an answer, then he gaped at me. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“As a heart attack,” I responded. Slade’s expression fell, leaving me to wonder what I’d done wrong. “Baby, what happened just then?”
“I just… You’ll probably think it’s stupid,” he hedged.
“I swear, if you don’t quit saying that, I’m going to beat it out of you,” I warned him. It’d been weeks since I’d heard Slade get down on himself like that. I thought he’d broken himself of the habit. “Now tell me.”
“I told you the night we met that my head is a mess. I know you were just joking about the heart attack thing, but I don’t like thinking about something happening to you,” he admitted. The organ in question clenched with a deep ache for this amazing man.
“Then we’d better make sure you keep me young.” I lifted his hand to my mouth, placing tender kisses on each finger. “Now, if you were serious about being willing to move in with me, let’s go so I can give you the grand tour.”
“Yeah, let’s.” Hand-in-hand, we walked up the driveway to the front door. I stopped myself from doing anything too corny, like carrying him over the threshold—there would be time for that later.
