Page 71 of The Woman Left Behind

He didn’t fight it, there was no purpose.

She wanted him there, that was where he’d be.

And incidentally, that was where he preferred to be.

“You get ready for bed first. I’ll shut down the house.”

She nodded.

Harry kissed her forehead then moved out of the room.

He heard her shuffling around as he checked windows, turned out lights and locked the door, at the same time he texted Rus.

Dogs good?

Fine, Rus replied. Then, Lillian hanging in there?

Yeah, Harry told him. Then, You’re a good friend, Rus.

You’d know, Rus returned.

Yeah, Rus was a good friend.

He went to the bedroom to retrieve his dopp kit and the pajama bottoms Rus packed and saw Lillian curled up in bed, her pretty green eyes to him.

She looked cute tucked up under her white quilt, her thick, amazing auburn hair stark against the white pillowcases.

Cute and vulnerable and sweet and expectant, a little scared, a lot sad.

And right then, his.

His.

On this thought, Harry felt something move inside him.

No, it was more like a shift.

And then it locked into place.

Sturdy, strong.

Immovable.

His.

“Be right back,” he said, his tone gruff.

Gratitude saturated her features, and what room it left, there was the slightest hint of peace.

In this time, the worst of her life, Harry being there gave her that hint of peace.

His.

Her head moved on her pillow with her nod.

He took his kit to the bathroom, did his thing and returned to Lillian.

She flicked back the covers.

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