Groomed For Love - Page 37

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here,” I add, feeling the gap in the world without Moose with me already.

“Probably be arguing with the vet, telling him you’re staying the night,” she says, lifting her brow and making me smile.

She’s right. I know she’ll always be right because she’s so damned perfect.

“We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we?” I ask her. Telling her really.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “And Moose is too,” she adds.

We drive in silence most of the way home until Naomi speaks up.

“I forgot to tell you, your mom called,” she says casually. “I thought it was you calling so I picked up,” she confesses. Not that I mind her answering my phone.

Our phone now.

I feel the truck slowing as my foot slips from the gas.

The thought of Naomi and my mom talking is as much a shock as everything else that’s happened today.

This whole weekend has been surreal, some parts from a dream I like and others that are the stuff of nightmares.

“Oh, how is she?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Naomi goes quiet, looking out the window.

It starts to rain.

“She said she’s old, not stupid,” Naomi grins, keeping a brow cocked as she registers the effect of her words.

That sounds like my mom alright, but it also makes me wonder what else those two talked about.

I guess Naomi stuck around, so maybe Ma wasn’t in full form tonight. She doesn’t mean to, but my mom has a habit of rubbing everyone the wrong way every time she opens her mouth.

Naomi has some mischief in her eyes which turns to sadness as she looks over at my arm again.

“What did she tell you?” I ask her, hoping the old lady didn’t say anything to upset her.

“She told me about you and your dad. That night… Parker, I just knew something terrible was gonna happen tonight, as soon as you got that call out. It terrified me,” she admits.

My shoulder throbs. Feeling like the past has been superimposed over the present all over again but in reverse.

This time it was Moose who took a bullet for me. Back when I was working with my dad, it was me who threw himself in front of the shooter to save him.

“Well, it’s over now,” I remind us both, grateful to pull into our street and see the gates swing open.

Once inside, home at last I feel weak suddenly. Like the whole effort of staying upright so far is beyond me now.

I slump onto the couch and Naomi asks me where there’s a first aid kit.

I have several, but the best one is in the closet by the front door.

“You’re more than just a pretty face,” I tell her, watching her expertly cut my shirt free and clean then dress my wound.

It’s a nasty scratch but nothing compared to what Moose is dealing with.

“You should really-” she starts to say, wanting to tell me to go to a doctor or the hospital, but I silence her with my mouth over hers, pulling her on top of me and getting the only medicine I need right now.

“Just lay here with me a while, will ya?” I ask her, glad to feel her warmth against me as she nuzzles closer.

I have one good arm, and it’s plenty to wrap around her and hold her tight, keep her close.

I can’t believe we’ve been through so much in one day but I’m determined to make every day from now on a lot easier for all of us.

No matter what.

“I hope your invitation to stay is still open,” she murmurs, both of us nearly dozing.

It sends a jolt of alertness right through me, and I almost try to sit up but only hug her tighter.

“I hope you never even think about going anywhere without me, except maybe to the bathroom,” I tell her. Feeling like the tide’s turning now.

We’ve had all the bad stuff happen and now the good can shine through.

“How ‘bout if I go to the kitchen for a minute?” she asks me, reminding me I didn’t eat earlier, that we never got to share our meal properly.

“I can do it,” I offer, but Naomi is determined to keep me as her patient on the couch. She shushes me gently and tells me to stay put while she gets us both something to eat.

I decide I have to let go at some point.

I have to let someone else do something for me for a change, and Naomi is more than willing to play nurse.

I smile to myself as I hear her fumble through our kitchen, finding her way.

The sounds and smells of her efforts reach me as I almost doze off again before she reappears with a tray of steak and cheese sandwiches, toasted, and some mineral waters for us both.

“You need your strength,” she advises me, setting the tray down while I prop myself up on my good elbow, eyeing her more than the food.

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