Page 68 of Mine to Hold
As if she had a home.
As if she had something and someone to hold.
But two things needed to be cleared up if she was going to stay. One might put her back in the pool house. But she needed to say it.
However, she’d deal with the other situation first.
“Emmerson, I need to talk to you about something.”
“What is it?”
She pointed to the bag of money taunting her from the open closet. She found it funny that the master had his and hers and the hers was empty as shit, except the few things he’d hung in there that belonged to her. “I know your mom said I could keep it. And I actually need that money. I have five thousand in the bank that is mine. But I have been dipping into that here and there. Now, it seems so dirty. Like it’s blood money and it makes me sick just to think about it.”
“I can’t say I like having it in my house. However, I’ve learned over the years not to argue with my mom about certain things.That would be one of them.” He arched a brow. “What would you do with it if you didn’t keep it?”
“Donate it to a women’s shelter? Or maybe a drug rehab program,” she said. “Only problem is if I do that, I’m so strapped for cash, renting your?—”
He hushed her with his index finger. “I’m not taking rent from my girlfriend. That feels so icky. And before you go arguing with me, I had decided that while you were asleep in the hospital.” He cocked his head. “You can do whatever you want with that bag of loot and I’m happy to help you donate it to a good cause. I’d love to do that, and I’m happy to help you save up some money.”
“But you can’t let me live here?—”
“I’m not going to flex my muscles often, but this is not negotiable. You’re my girlfriend. I’m not taking your money.”
“I’m not moving in with you.” Even if he did say the words back, it was too soon. Even she understood that.
“I’m not asking you to, but for the next few weeks, you’re not getting out of this bed,” he said. “Now, how about I go make us some breakfast because I’m starving.” He batted her nose and stood.
“Okay.” Telling him how she felt would have to wait.
Emmerson dumped the scrambled eggs onto two separate plates, along with bacon, sausage links, and home fries. He wasn’t the best cook, but he could cook the shit out of breakfast. He snagged the mugs of coffee and put everything on a tray.
He glanced up and scowled. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?”
Rumor held one hand over her midriff and used the other to grip the table and then the sofa as she made her way toward the kitchen. “I’m tired of being on my back.”
Racing to her side, he put her arm around his good shoulder. The other one still hurt like hell, but he was a fast healer and had already started stretching it here and there, even though the doctor had told him to take it easy.
Hell, he didn’t know the meaning of the word, unless a fishing reel was in his hand.
“Why is your arm out of your sling?” she asked.
“Easier to make breakfast.” He tried turning her back toward the bedroom, but she protested.
“I want to eat like a normal person. At the table. Or maybe outside and get a little fresh air.”
“That’s against my better judgment.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not negotiable.” She tilted her head, glaring.
“Fine.” If only he could lift her into his arms.
Once he got her settled, he brought the food out and set it up, settling in next to the woman who rocked his world. One of these days he’d get the courage to tell her how he really felt. He showed her every day, but he knew that wasn’t enough. She needed to hear him say the words.
She pushed her food around the plate.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
She dropped her fork and let out the longest breath ever. “I can’t do this a second longer.” She lifted her gaze. “I have to know how you really feel about me. Not knowing is slowly killing me inside. I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I get it. You have deep wounds. I do too.”
