LOST WITH YOU - Lisa Ann Verge Page 0,56
thing I can do to convince you to stay with me, if you’re not ready to upend your life. But, Casey, if you are…”
She floated up from the bed and drifted across the space that separated them. He watched her come closer, smelled the eucalyptus scent of her hair from the hotel shampoo long before he touched those damp locks.
“Whatever the question is you’re struggling to ask me, Dylan…” Her smile was like the rising of the sun. “The answer is yes.”
Light exploded behind his eyes. Had he heard her right? Or had he only imagined he’d heard her say—
“I’m yours.” She made a lovely, half-strangled sound and pressed against his bandaged torso. “I love you, too.”
His body curled around her by instinct, though his mind still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Against his chest, she whispered, “This is crazy, isn’t it?”
He nodded, struck dumb.
“Three weeks,” she said. “I hardly know where my head is right now. But I feel like I’m exactly where I should be. Exactly where I belong.”
He said, “You’re staying with me.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “For the next day or two, at least. Maybe a little longer if you talk me into it.”
He pulled back, baffled.
“I just made a promise to my sister.” She ran her fingers across his newly-shaven jaw. “I told her that I would spend some time with her and my nieces. I haven’t been the best sister. Or aunt. I need to see her, Dylan. I need to talk with her, to tell her…everything. Most of all, I have to tell her about you.”
His heart pounded. “You’ll come right back.”
She bounced up on her toes to sling her arms around his neck. “Clear a little space for me in the cabin.”
“You’ll move in with me.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “You’ll move out of that rusty old van.”
She laughed softly. “It’ll be nice to set down new roots.”
“I’ve got a townhouse not far from the Bridgewater campus. You can use the spare room as an office.”
“I’ll stay with you, wherever you go.” She whispered, “Shall we seal the deal?”
He couldn’t hold her any tighter, but he could try.
“We’ll have to be inventive.” She passed a hand across the bandages beneath his shirt. “You’ve been told no strenuous activity, I suspect.”
He shifted his head and nipped the warm lobe of her ear. “To hell with doctor’s orders.”
“I could get on top of the situation.”
He pulled away. “With those knees?”
She wrinkled her nose, envisioning the problem. “I forgot about my knees.”
“We’ve been in more challenging situations.”
“We sure have.” The mischief came back into her eyes. “We can make this work, Dylan.”
“Yes.” His heart turned over. “I know we can.”
EPILOGUE
“It’s all right, Bessie.” Casey smoothed her hand over the dashboard of her minivan as the vehicle hiccupped its way into Bridgewater. “The university is just ahead. Dylan’s home can’t be too far now.”
Casey pressed the brake as she approached a traffic light in the middle of this quaint college town. A cluster of amber leaves danced across the windshield, buoyed by a crisp, late-September breeze. College students, backpacks slung over their shoulders, strolled the wide sidewalks and chattered over coffee outside cafés. The little brick-faced bookstore appeared to be doing brisk business, as did the bicycle shop across the street.
She flexed her fingers over the steering wheel, taking in the whole scene as she waited for the light to turn green, her heart fluttering with excitement. She’d been driving for six long hours since she left her sister’s home. She’d developed a cramp in her calf from pressing the gas pedal and a crick in her neck from keeping her eyes on the road, but anticipation had washed away those irritations for now. It had taken her three years to run away from the world.
It took only three weeks with Dylan to bring her home.
The light changed. She drove a slow mile through the center of town, stopping at multiple pedestrian crossings before the GPS directed her to turn onto a quieter street. At the sound of a ringing bell, she checked the bike lane and let a family pass before turning onto the tree-lined street. Center-hall colonials lined each side of the road, modified over the last century with roof dormers and attached garages and sunrooms. Most of the lawns were minutely mowed or creatively landscaped. But the lawn that the GPS directed her to was riotous with wild roses.
She loved roses.
Shutting Bessie off to a series of coughs and sputters, she swung open