Around then Rose thought about what he had meant by starting something new.
She ran her hand across the top of the grass and followed him instead.
She didn’t ask again.
* * *
THREE DAYS WENTby like that.
Simple days that were neither eventful nor boring.
They ate together, watched TV together, went on walks around the property together, and when it was time to sleep, they did that together too.
The first night this happened, they both used excuses of still being wary of everything that had been goingon. The second night, those excuses were given with much less enthusiasm. The third night, it felt like habit.
James moved the covers for Rose to get in first—while she talked about whatever throwaway topic they had landed on for that moment—and then got into bed himself once she was settled. He nodded and mmmhmmed at all the right places while plugging his phone in to charge and Rose put on her hand lotion before handing it over to him. They kept their conversations going until the lights were off, but even after, they carried on for a few more minutes.
They fell asleep without touching, but that never held true for the mornings.
James always had an arm around or on her. Rose always had her face resting on him or against him while wrapped around his arm or leg. Or both, just as she had in the motel room.
And they never talked about it. Even as they detangled in the morning, neither one of them stated the obvious.
Or questioned why they weren’t questioning it.
Those three days and nights became routine. Comfortable and safe.
So when Doc Ernest’s daughter Lily called her the morning of the fourth day, Rose couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss.
“You told me to let you know if Damon Tillman had any visitors, and one finally showed up,” Lily said. “She’s talking to the doctor right now.”
“She?” Rose lowered her voice so James couldn’t overhear her from the kitchen. It was his turn to do the dishes.
Lily also lowered her voice.
“Yeah,” she said. “And she seems really upset.”
Damon had been moved out of the ICU the day before, but as far as Rose knew, he hadn’t woken up yet. And he might not. She hadn’t gotten any more updates about him or the case since Liam and Blake had left the night they had brought Rose and James back. Rose, however, had reached out to Lily before James had swayed her into taking a break from everything.
Lily’s answer had put her right back onto all her questions, all her concerns.
Rose came back to herself with guilt riding shotgun.
That guilt carried her to look into the kitchen.
James looked no less mighty rinsing dishes.
She could stand there, stand in that house, and be with him, and while the rest of the world went about its own business, she could be happy. Be content.
But she wouldn’t be Deputy Rose Little.
“If she starts to leave, try and stall her,” she told Lily. “I’m on the way.”
Chapter Eighteen
The woman was young. She was also very, very sad.
“That’s Wynonna Harrison, Lloyd Harrison’s little sister,” Price whispered at her side. “She came in yesterday to handle everything for Lloyd but is here for Damon today.”
