“Detached garage. That’s where your car is parked right now.”
“This isn’t my car?” I wondered.
“This is a loaner because of the accident,” he explained quietly. “The other truck is totaled.”
He sounded horrified by the fact that it was totaled.
“Did you love the truck?” I wondered.
He took his seat belt off then gripped the steering wheel for a long moment before he said, “That was where you told me you were pregnant the first time. Where you told me that you loved me the first time. What I took you out in on our first date. What you laughed in. What you cried in. It was where you and I spent a lot of time together when we were younger. It was very sentimental.”
My heart ached at the sadness in his voice.
“But the good thing is, you’re alive. The baby is alive.” He got out of the truck and rounded the hood before I could process his words. He had the door open and his hand out before I’d turned in my seat fully.
I unbuckled my seat belt and took his hand. “You’re more hurt than I am.”
His mouth twitched, which had to hurt since he had a lot of bruising on the side of his face that his lips had quirked up on. “I’ll live. I’m just glad we finally got you out today.”
Me, too.
Being in a hospital with nothing to do sucked.
Being in a hospital with no memory of the people that were constantly bombarding that room sucked even more.
Luckily, Boone had never been one of those people that I disliked having in my room.
Not that the people that’d visited were bad or anything.
It was just awkward as fuck when someone came in and had to introduce themselves with how I knew them.
Boone didn’t make me feel awkward, though.
He was so soothing.
I felt like I could breathe when he was near.
That was why I’d had no issues with going home with him.
Why I was in a strange-to-me man’s house instead of with my sister.
I breathed in his scent as he pulled me out of the car and was quite disappointed when he stepped away and put distance between us.
My body literally screamed to be held by him.
And again, showing that he missed nothing when it came to me, he asked, “Do you want me to hold you?”
I all but dove into his arms, and almost felt bad when he gave a pained grunt.
He folded me in those warm, hard arms, though, and held me so tight that I knew it was paining him to do so.
His poor arm.
His poor face.
His poor hip.
I nuzzled my face into his chest, unable to stop myself from taking his scent deep into my lungs.
