Page 82 of ILY
I hold my breath, then let it out. “Shoes. And one of them might have blood on it.”
He pales. “Oh god. Dead people things?Murderedpeople things?” He sounds genuinely upset.
I stand and draw him up and hold him against me. “If that’s the case, I will figure it out. And if you want to stay somewhere else…”
He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against my sternum before turning his face up to look at me. “This is my home. I mean, I want it to be my home. I want it to be mine.”
“It can be yours. Even if something did happen here, you can reclaim it. I can help you.”
He links his fingers with mine and presses them to his chest. I can feel the rapid pace of his heart. He’s on the verge of panic. “Will you stay here with me?”
“Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” I ask.
He shakes his head, rolls his lips through his teeth, then says, “You have a place to stay. I know that. But…can this be your place to stay while you’re figuring it all out?”
I’ve never been invited to live on a possible crime scene before, but it solves a lot of my problems. Investigating, for one, and having Leaf close—which is where I want to keep him.
I cup his cheek, then lean in for a chaste, lingering kiss. “I’ll stay.”
“And you won’t judge my murder house?”
I laugh against his mouth, then pull back. “I’ve seen worse. And as long as I can have free rein to look around?—”
“Anything you want,” he says quickly. Fiercely.
I swear to god it feels like my heart has a damn boner. I cup his cheek again. “I will figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”
Although I don’t say it, I hope he realizes I mean for good. I have a few things to tidy up in Portland, but if he wants to keep me, I have no ties there, especially when my retirement becomes official.
I’m happy to stay forever, if only he says the word.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LEAF
“Thom just messaged,”I say, sitting outside on the porch with Thorne. The apples are being harvested today, and I like watching the large machines move through the rows collecting them. “He wants us to go out clubbing tonight.”
“That sounds miserable,” Thorne says, his hands massaging my calves. My legs are propped up on his thighs, and we’re drinking lemonade.
“It is, but it will also be fun, I think. Maybe dance some of the stress away.”
Thorne eyes me. “If that’s what you want to do, we totally can. Might help to get out of this graveyard.”
I snort. “I hate that you might mean that literally. And, yeah. The less time with potential dead bodies, the better. When will you call this in?”
“When I have more evidence. So far, all I have are old shoes and a hunch.”
I pat his leg gently. “Well, then it seems like clubbing might be the best answer to all our problems. Nothing like burying your head in the sand.”
“Hate the beach, but yeah. Let’s do it.”
I grab my phone and shoot off a message to Thom, letting him know that we’ll be there. Thom replies with a thumbs-up and then a picture of Robbie, who is staring into the camera. He doesn’t look pleased.
I show it to Thorne, who grins. “He looks pissed.”
“He’s not a fan of dancing. Probably because he sucks at it. You should see him. He flaps his arms around like a chicken.”
Thorne snorts. “I won’t be much better, you know?”
