Page 103 of Protected from Malice
“You had a headache yesterday,” he retorts. “And two days ago, you flinched at the kitchen light. I saw it.”
I can’t help but smile at his concern. Tough,I can face anythingRafe, who I know for a fact has suffered more than one concussion himself, all worried about me going back to work for a few hours.
“Eden.” It’s gently scolding. “I’m just looking out for your health.” The light turns, and he accelerates—at approximately the speed of a turtle, I note—through it. His lips quirk. “You have an important brain. I don’t want anything else to happen to it.”
A giggle slips out. “Animportantbrain?”
“Yes. A genius brain.” He laces his fingers between mine and gives my hand a little squeeze. “A brain that does important things.”
“So is that all I am to you?” I tease. “Just a big brain?”
“No.” Rafe looks away from the road for a second, catching my gaze. His expression is solemn. Emotion works in his eyes. “You’re everything to me, Eden.”
Oh.
I think my heart just melted into a puddle of goo.
Leaning over, I press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re everything to me, too.”
If I didn’t think he was already, the past week solidified it—a week spent pretty much twenty-four-seven with Rafe as I recovered from my mildconcussion. Mild. Not a terrible injury that required me to be bedridden for days, if Rafe and my brother had their way.
It didn’t help that I had to go back to the hotel for a few days while the police processed the crime scene. Which meant spending those days under the watchful eyes of three extremely protective men who were determined not to let me lift a finger.
“Traumatic brain injuries are nothing to mess with,” insisted Tyler, who’s still sticking around Portland while he figures things out. “You can think it’s nothing, and then it turns out to be a lot more serious than it originally appeared.”
Since one of his teammates, Erik, who works for the Texas B and A branch, actually suffered permanent brain damage from a TBI, I can understand Tyler’s concern. But I’m a scientist. I studied anatomy. For a little while, I even considered med school instead of getting my PhD. If I thought my concussion were anything serious, I’d be the first to address it.
Indy’s been in full protective big brother mode, not hesitating to pull out the big guns for leverage if he thinks I’mdoing too much. Like threatening to call our mother and tell her everything, which I definitelydon’twant. Yes, I know she’s my mom. But I don’t need to lay everything on her when I have other people—like Indy, Rafe, and Zada, who I finally told everything—to rely on, as well.
“If I catch you working on your laptop one more time,” Indy warned the day after my concussion, “I’m calling Mom. And I’m telling her you were almost kidnapped. Twice. So—” He flashed me a triumphant smile. “What would you prefer? Working on your laptop? Or relaxing on the couch?”
I could say I was mad about it, but I wasn’t. Not when it feels so good to have the old Indy back.
And Rafe. He’s been the most protective of all. He cooked me meals using all anti-inflammatory foods, scoured Portland for special hand-pressed juices that were supposed to speed recovery, and did pretty much everything for me apart from literally carrying me places.
Which he would have done, had I not put my foot down.AndI showed him research that said light activity is actually good when you’re recovering.
We’re back at my house now that the police have cleared it, and Rafe, Indy, and Tyler have all been hard at work turning it into a veritable fortress. They’ve doubled the number of alarms and sensors, installed a reinforced steel front door, and replaced my regular sliding patio doors with bulletproof ones. Now they’re discussing adding a panic room, which seems like a bit much, even to me.
I mean, it’s not like it would’ve helped with the whole Gayla thing. Although during the first break-in, maybe…
Honestly, I’ll probably just agree to it, mainly to make Rafe and Indy happy.
Because seeing them happy? It’s really great.
Seeing Indy smiling again? Laughing? Teasing me, which I used to hate, but now welcome? It’s such a relief. And now that he’s planning to stay in Portland for good, I couldn’t be happier.
Actually, that’s not true. Icouldbe happier.
If Rafe stays, I’ll be unbelievably happy.
I haven’t brought up the idea of him moving here yet, and neither has he. But he’s already talking about extending his visit. And there’s this mysteriousthingin the works that he keeps talking to Indy and Tyler about.
“It’s not settled,” he told me the other day, “and I don’t want to say something and have it fall through. But I promise, Eden, I’ll tell you the second I know for sure.”
I keep thinking about Rafe living here. Hopefully, with me. Is it premature, considering we’ve only been officially dating for a few weeks?
Maybe.
