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My breathing had stilled at the significance of what she’d just confessed—and the significance of her confessing it.
“You’re telling me that like it’s a bad thing,” I joked.
“It is a bad thing,” she whispered. “But I’m trying to be more honest.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. But it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Do you even know what it is? What you’re signing up for?”
“I remember the tapping…”
She sighed heavily. “I’ll probably be tapping for the rest of my life. At least here and there. And there’s other stuff you should know, but I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Whatever that stuff is, it doesn’t matter,” I repeated. “Actually, it does matter. Whatever it is, as long as you’re not in any sort of distress or pain, I welcome it. Because without it, you wouldn’t be you.”
By the time I’d been made to sit down in a wheelchair to make the trip to the hospital’s front doors the next morning, I was more convinced than ever before that Greer Richmond was it for me.
Dr. Stevenson intercepted us in the hospital’s corridor.
“Mr. Blackwell, I’d be remiss if I didn’t try one more time to convince you to stay here for another few days.”
“Not happening. Sorry, Guy.”
He sighed and turned to Greer. “Make sure his wounds are cleaned and re-bandaged twice a day, and make sure he avoids any and all physical activity. He’s extremely weak, and it wouldn’t take much to open everything back up.”
“I understand, doctor.”
“And Greer? I mean anyand all physical activity.” He winked.
Pissed at the double entendre, I opened my mouth, but Greer beat me to the fight.
“Don’t worry, doctor,” she said sweetly. “Tonight, when you finally get off work, and you’re lying in bed alone, I want you to sleep easy knowing just how attentive I’m being to any and all of Jace’s physical needs.”
I barked out a laugh, and Greer wheeled me past the smirking doctor. Once we cleared the hospital’s front doors, I put my feet down to stop the chair’s progression, intending to walk.
“You’d better lift your fucking feet, Jace, or I swear to God…”
“I can walk.”
“No.”
“Greer, stop the chair.”
“Not a chance,” she answered, picking up more speed as she crossed the lot toward the Bronco. “If you’re a very good boy, you can have a treat when we get home.”
If the treat involved her in any way, I was happy to let her wheel me to China. Once we reached the Bronco, I stood, fighting my lightheadedness, and walked around to the passenger’s seat.
Letting Greer drive me around was just another thing that made her special. I’d never, not once in my life, let a woman drive me since Sheryll did when I was a small boy—before she left. At least not until I’d been forced to teach Greer how to drive. Seeing her beside me in the truck cab made me feel like no time at all had passed. Like we were the exact same people, fighting our intense attraction to each other. We weren’t the same people. But it still felt right.
Greer wanted to pick up a few things at Richmond House before we set up house at my place—and I wasn’t about to let her go alone. Detective Scott had successfully obtained an arrest warrant for Eugenia, but he couldn’t find her, and neither could anyone else. I doubted she’d be biding her time at Richmond House, but I couldn’t be sure.
I carefully followed Greer to the house. I’d been able to lock the back door from the inside the night we’d left there on Halloween, but it looked like the front door was still cracked, the unforgiving wood no longer fitting into the bloated frame. At least there’d been no rain.
After fumbling for her keys and unlocking the back door, she tried to make me wait in the parlor, but I was a stubborn bastard and insisted on following her to her room. As long as I went slowly and had something to hold on to, it wasn’t so bad. At least that’s what I told myself before collapsing onto Greer’s bed, sweat dripping down my chest.
“I told you to stay downstairs,” Greer exclaimed. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Just give me a minute.”
