Page 118 of Out Of A Fix

“Yeah, I—” He cleared his throat. “Tell me who this guy is that you chased from the house. I wanna look into him.”

“Ward Firmin.”

“Spell the last name.”

Once I did, he said okay and then hung up. I then thanked Sampson for the use of his cell, and asked if he would please drive me home because I was starting to turn into a popsicle, heater or no heater.

“I’ll take you right now. Your family must be freaking out.”

I was trying to focus on that, was going to correct him that they weren’t my family, but found I didn’t have the inclination or the heart. I wanted them to be mine, all of them, and that was the truth. At the moment, though, with my adrenaline gone, feeling every one of my fifty-two years and every old injury, it was possibly not the best time to have any kind of serious conversation with Luke Duchesne.

When Sampson dropped me off, he offered me an umbrella, but I gestured at myself, and he chuckled and told me to get the hell out of his car. He was a nice man, and I liked him.

Once I scaled the steps to the front door, I saw that Tatum was sitting in the window nook, waiting for me. When I waved, she disappeared, and I put my hands on my hips and leaned back, stretching my muscles. I really was too old to be scaling fences, running through foliage and mud, and dodging cars, all under a steady downpour of icy rain. It was supposed to be thirty-four degrees later this evening. It felt like it now.

The front door flew open, and Luke was there with towels, putting one over my head and another around my shoulders, and then grabbing me so very tight. He was trembling.

“Go inside,” I directed him. “It’s cold out here.”

“Nash,” he barely got out, and when I leaned back to look at him, his eyes were red slits and his jaw was clenched. Only then did I realize he’d been terrified for me.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He nodded as I bent and peeled off my socks, left both on the porch, and walked into the house in my bare wet feet.

“Are you okay?” Tatum asked, her voice small, sniffling, as Luke closed the door behind us.

“I’m fine, love.”

“No, you’re not,” she whimpered. “You have scrapes and bruises.”

“But I’m fine, I promise.”

I made sure the front door was locked, deadbolt included, then turned to all the faces suddenly crowded into my space. The kids were all staring at me expectantly, his parents as well, and Luke had his hand on my bicep, holding tight.

“Let me begin by saying we’re not in any danger, and I’ll tell you all everything that happened after I take a very hot shower.”

“I will have your soup ready for you when you come out,” Viola assured me.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her before facing Luke. “I will give you a million dollars if you go up to the attic and get me some clean clothes.”

“We both know you don’t have a million dollars,” he whispered. “But I will take care of you anyway.”

I put my hand on his cheek. “You’re the best.”

“For you, yes. Try and keep it in mind.”

I headed toward the guest room.

“Nope, wrong way,” Luke almost barked, not angry, but clearly wanting me to go where he’d told me he wanted me earlier. In his room, in his shower, in his bed.

I was out of it, on autopilot, and so had headed toward where I’d been sleeping for the past few weeks. “Sorry, I⁠—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he instructed, taking hold of my arm to raise it and drape it over his shoulders. “Griff, go get everything from the attic and bring it down here.”

“Wait—”

“Don’t wait,” Luke overrode me. “Just do what I told you.”