But after only a few weeks, I just needed to bealone. As gently as I could, I told her I was going home, assuring her I would be fine on my own.
I recognized now that it was a lie.
I hadn’t realized how loud the silence of my home was until I had nothing to fill my days with but the relentless raging of my own thoughts.
Over the last two months since getting shot, I’d had far too much time to sit on my ass andthink. To confront my demons, to face down my own mortality and come to grips with how close I’d come to dying.
My mind was sound, whole, which made it difficult for me to remember my body wasnot.
As things stood, I didn’t anticipate going back until after the new year. I wouldn’tletmyself anticipate a better outcome.
I’d kill the son of a bitch if he wasn’t already dead.
“Well, hurry up,” Johns said, pulling me from my thoughts. “We need you back.”
“Aww, Johns. You miss me!”
He groaned. “Nah, man, but some of the other guys do.”
“Sure, sure,” I chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I’m working on it, but you know this shit isn’t up to me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he groaned. “Anyway, see you at Sutton’s.”
He disconnected before I could say anything else.
After a brief detour to my room for socks and a hoodie, I headed back out to the kitchen, finding Sutton right where I’d left her.
“We can get in right now,” I told her.
“Thank god,” she muttered, nuzzling her face into Boots’ fur.
I didn’t want to look too closely at the relief in her tone, so I busied myself by scarfing down the rest of my breakfast, adding my dishes to the washer, and turning it on.
“Ready?”
She nodded and trailed after me toward the foyer. I slipped on my jacket and boots, collected my keys off the hook, and led her through the door into the garage.
So lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice Sutton making a move until she brushed past me and snatched my keys out of my hand.
“I’m driving,” she said with a grin, sprinting around to the driver’s side.
“Like hell.”
“Lane, you need to be taking it easy. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wincing when you use your left arm too much.”
I blinked in surprise. How had she clocked me so easily?
“You’re not driving my truck,” I replied.
Normally, I drove my sheriff’s department SUV. My personal vehicle rarely got used, but since I was currently off work, it had seen more daylight the last few months than the rest of the two years I’d owned it combined.
“I know it’s hard for your big, scary, macho ass to admit when you’re in pain, but Lane, it’sobvious.” She gestured to my weak side, in the vague direction of my gunshot wound.
“You’re going to have to drive it home anyway,” she pressed. “Just let me drive us to town.Please.”
I groaned. “Fine.”
Wordlessly, I threw myself into the passenger seat, buckled in, then crossed my arms over my chest and pouted like a child. Sutton got behind the wheel and unceremoniously dumped Boots in my lap. The cat’s wide yellow eyes fixed on mine, and I twisted, dumping him in the back.
