Page 40 of They Are Mine

It’s a lot to deal with, losing everything, feeling like his whole life just got ripped apart. He doesn’t know yet that it’s already being taken care of.

By me.

I guide him inside, turning on a lamp, letting the warm glow spill across my living room. He blinks around the space, like he’s seeing it for the first time. Maybe he is. Maybe, now that he knows he’s staying here, it feels different.

More like home.

He doesn’t realize yet how easy this is going to be.

His lease is month-to-month, reckless, really. He should have had something more stable. A year-long contract. Something that actually gave him security.

But right now?

That works perfectly for me.

I’ve already checked his bank statements. He pays rent on the first of the month, which means we have plenty of time to break the lease, clean the place up, get his deposit back. I’ll handle all of it. He won’t have to worry about a thing.

Because he doesn’t need to.

I’ll always take care of him.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would do that to me.” His voice is quiet, hoarse.

Like he’s still trying to process it, still trying to make sense of something senseless.

Oh, baby.

He doesn’t get it.

Doesn’t get how special he is. How easily people could want to take him, ruin him, keep him for themselves.

He’s too modest. Too soft.

I shake my head, sighing as I slip past him toward the kitchen.

“People are insane,” I say simply, setting my bag down.

I don’t let the words settle too long.

I redirect, soothe, move forward. “Why don’t you get a shower, and I’ll start dinner?”

“God,” he exhales, rubbing his hands down his face. “You’re being great. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oh.

Oh.

I feel it in my chest, a warmth, a pull, a sense of rightness.

He’s already thinking of me that way.

Already leaning into me, depending on me, needing me.

I just smile. Soft. Carefree. “It’s nothing.”

It’s everything.

“You like shepherd’s pie?” I ask as I start moving through the kitchen, opening cabinets, pulling ingredients.

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