then, but we were building more than a friendship for all those months. It’s scary to think I could lose you to drugs at any moment, but no part of me wants to walk away and lose out on what we were becoming. So if you can be patient with me as I learn about recovery and have questions or need reassurances, then I want this, Quincy. I want us. I want you.”
“Christ, baby.” He gathered her in his arms, holding her like she was all he’d ever wanted, and said, “I’ll be patient—”
She pressed her lips to his, unable to wait another second. She didn’t need to hear what he’d do, because she already knew. He’d already shown her the man he was. When their lips finally parted, the rest of those tangles inside her loosened and shifted, becoming lovely, welcome bows.
“Thank you, babe. Thank you so damn much.”
“Don’t thank me. Just keep being honest. I might need time to process things, but I want to be here for you.”
“I will always be honest.” He kissed her again, softer this time, and said, “My place isn’t far from here. Can we go there to talk?”
“I’d like that. I want to spend time in your world, Quincy, see where you live and get to know all of you. And if you have a hard day or hour, I might not know the right things to say, but I want you to teach me, because all of that bad stuff that you went through led to the person you are today, and I really like that guy.”
Chapter Eleven
QUINCY FOLLOWED RONI into his loft-style apartment above Whiskey Automotive, still in a mild state of shock that she’d shown up for the meeting. Talk about jumping in with both feet…
“So this is your sanctuary,” she said quietly, leaning in playfully.
He’d wondered if it would be awkward to be together after everything she’d learned about him and sitting through the NA meeting, and he was glad it didn’t feel that way.
“You could call it that.” He helped her off with her jacket and hung it, and her purse, by the door. As he hung up his jacket, he said, “You can look around.”
There was nothing fancy about his apartment, no walls separating anything but the bedrooms and bathroom from the open living space. The kitchen was just a counter, refrigerator, oven, and a few cabinets to the left of the entrance that led to the shop. Truman had left some of his furniture for Quincy when he’d moved out, including a wooden coffee table, an orange armchair, which now sat in front of the balcony doors, and a comfortable brown couch. Jed had helped Quincy build floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the wall to the right of the entrance. The shelves were full, and more books were stacked on the floor.
“Cute kitchenette,” Roni said, walking slowly past the kitchen and table for two. She looked across the room. “Wow, that’s a lot of books.”
“It makes me look like a hoarder, right?”
She flashed an easy, natural smile, which made him feel even more at ease. She ran her hand along the back of the orange chair and said, “No, it makes you look like a guy who loves to read and grew up hanging out at a library. Your safe haven.”
“I’d say that’s accurate. I never had books of my own when I was growing up, so now they’re my guilty pleasure. And you’re right, they are my safe haven. I had a lot of extra time on my hands when I got out of rehab, and I kept my mind busy with reading.”
“My boyfriend the bookworm,” she said in a singsong voice. “I like knowing that.”
“And I like hearing you call me your boyfriend.”
“Good, because I like saying it.” She turned around and parted the curtains, peering out the balcony doors into the darkness. “What’s back there?”
“A junkyard. This apartment is kind of a rite of passage. Tru lived here when he got out of prison, and he made it into a home for the kids before he and Gemma rented a house closer to the preschool. The Whiskeys put in a nursery in the auto shop downstairs so Tru wouldn’t have to leave the kids, and everyone helped watch them while they worked. Now that the kids are older, Red babysits them.”
Roni turned with a surprised expression. “He took the kids to work with him? I love that.”
“Yeah. He couldn’t part with them. He said