Page 73 of Dark Shaman: Love Found
"How? I can barely walk, and as you've pointed out, I have no shoes."
"Right," she agreed. "Thomas's house is on the other side of the village. You'll have to be transported every day for therapy. I'll have to come get you."
"That would be sweet of you, Hildie. If it's okay for me to say that you are sweet."
His heart made a happy little flip. He'd been afraid she would pass his physical therapy to the other nurse. Knowing that he would be seeing Hildegard every day for the next few weeks made saying goodbye easier.
She frowned. "You know what?"
"What?"
"This is stupid. Why don't you move in with me?"
Tim felt like he'd been hit by lightning. Discovering that he was the grandson of a god couldn't have delighted him as much as Hildegard's invitation.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes. My roommate moved out and I have an empty room in the house. It will make rehabilitation much easier when you are right there with me."
"Makes sense," Tim said, proud of being able to keep his voice level and not screeching like a teenage girl who had just made the cheerleading squad.
Hildegard wasn't inviting him to share her room, but it was a step in the right direction.
"I should warn you," she said. "I'm not easy to live with. I work strange hours, I do yoga at dawn, and I listen to true crime podcasts while cooking."
"I'm sarcastic before coffee," he countered. "I sketch obsessively. I leave cabinet doors open when I'm distracted."
"That's grounds for eviction."
"You won't evict me."
"No?" She stepped closer. "What makes you so sure?"
Instead of answering, Tim reached into his bag and pulledout the portrait he'd drawn of her. He'd meant to give it to her earlier, but the moment hadn't been right.
"Because I have a bribe." He offered her the sketch.
Her intake of breath was sharp and satisfying.
He knew he had outdone himself with her sketch. This time, he hadn't needed instructions from someone else to give life to a portrait. He knew Hildegard inside and out, and he'd captured everything—her strength and vulnerability, her spunk and her kindness. She was incandescent.
"Tim..." Her voice cracked.
"I knew that you wouldn't evict me once you saw this."
She pressed the portrait to her chest, leaned over, and kissed him. It was only a peck on the cheek, but it was priceless to him.
"Get your bag," she said. "You're coming home with me."
"Yes, ma'am."
As they walked out of the room that had been his for over three weeks, Tim marveled at how much had changed. Before, he'd been a bitter guy with trust issues and a chip on his shoulder. Now he was an immortal with a home, a purpose, and a woman who saw past all his defensive walls.
"By the way," she said. "I should mention that I practice my true crime podcast voices. Full dialogue, different accents."
"I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and sketch furiously. The pencil scratching on paper could madden a saint."
"I reorganize furniture when I'm bored."
