Page 93 of True North

No lights on.

Ma isn’t here anymore, keepin’ the home fires burnin’ while I’m away. It pangs like it has permission. My breaths shorten, and I shift my focus back to Lou. I can only imagine my misery if she wasn’t here with me at this time. I can’t say I’d be strong enough to move forward.

I am eternally grateful I will never have to find out. Shaking myself from the reverie, I pop the driver’s door open and round the truck. Slowly, I crack Lou’s door open. She murmurs something incoherent and rolls away from the door as it moves, opening wider.

“Come on, darlin’.”

I pick her up and carry her to the house. She curls into my chest.

“Harry?” My name is a mumbled whisper.

“Yeah, Lou?”

“We home?”

“Sure are.” I step onto the front porch and turn to the side, awkwardly grabbing for the handle with one hand while still carrying her. She sucks in a waking breath and opens her eyes. I stand still before the threshold as the door swings open, knocking against the wall.

Lou glances between me and the doorway. “Put me down, please, Harry.”

Something like regret seeps through with each word.

Puttin’ her down is the last thing I wanna do right now. She wriggles in my hold, and I relent, her feet meeting the porch. Her arms slide around my neck, and I dip my forehead to hers as she tries and fails to stifle a yawn.

“You can carry me over that threshold on a different day, Harry Rawlins. Not this one.”

“If you say so, Captain.”

She gives me a quizzical look before dotting a kiss on my lips briefly as she turns away and glides over the imaginary line. It’s all I can do to watch her go. Into her home.

Our home.

And hell, if she doesn’t belong here, all is not right with the world.

Lou looks over her shoulder, her gait slowing en route to the kitchen. “You coming inside?”

Damn straight, woman.

She hits the lights and puts the kettle on, puttering around the kitchen as I hover in my own house like a fool, struck. It’s then I remember her bag. I wander outside into the cool, dark night and tug it from the tray of the truck.

On my way back, I stop by the old willow in front of the house. Its curtain of green waves gently in the breeze, its soft hissing mesmerizing me where I stand. The stars overhead shine like I swear they never have before.

The whistle of the kettle pulls me from the ethereal state. Through the front windows by the dining table, I see Lou. She plucks an overhead cupboard open, taking out two mugs. The door creaks as it falls open when she tries to close it. I make mental note to fix the kitchen as soon as I can.

Walking back inside, I find her sitting on the old counter, mugs of tea on the surface, waitin’. I close in on her and drop the bag at the foot of the counter. She leans back, head tilting to the side as she glances to the mug at her left.

Mine.

“You look tired, Lou.”

She picks up her tea and blows into the steam before taking a cautious sip. “Hmm, I’m okay.”

She passes me the mug left, and I take it. The heat of the tea descends all the way to my stomach. Lou puts hers down before tapping the counter.

“Before I forget.” She claims my hand, pulling me toward her. I nestle between her legs as she says, “Thanks for the lift.”

Her green eyes study my face. With every inch they take in, they darken further. Her lips part as her hands take my jaw and slide down my neck.

“Wasn’t a lift, Louisa May. I was bringing you home. There’s no goin’ back.”

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