Page 69 of My Soul for Sale

I'll give them one, but I don't really care about that right now because I just noticed we're the only two in the room.

"Where's Rip?" I ask, searching the room for any sign of my other lover.

"He went home to shower and to meet with the insurance guy for the bar," Atlas explains. "He'll be back soon."

Insurance? I had insurance... I’m not an idiot, but dang, they're out there already?

"I can see your wheels turning. You know Dad. He’s not good at being idle. He had no doubt you'd wake up, so he wanted to start the process of getting the claim done, so when you're out of here, you can rebuild. He's been going home to shower every day."

"More water?" I ask.

Again, he holds the cup to my lips as I sip.

"Have you showered?" I tease gently, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips.

“I love you, Atlas, but you look like hell." I smirk.

He chuckles. "You put me through hell, woman. I can't leave. I've taken a hobo bath in the sink here, but that's it. I couldn't leave until I saw your eyes."

Damn, this man is amazing. I wish he’d taken care of himself, but I love how big his heart is. I close my eyes and listen to the TV as Atlas strokes my thumb with his, never letting go.

Alone in the room now, the doctor's departure leaves me with a sense of relief. I've been given the all-clear to go home, as long as I promise to rest and hydrate. They kept me under observation overnight last night after I woke up, just to be safe, monitoring my stats in case of any complications. But aside from a concussion and some smoke inhalation, I'm deemed fit to leave.

Ripley is taking me home since Atlas went to shower and grab some things from the store he insisted we needed. Apparently, he's not leaving my side until I'm cleared to go back to work.

I have to come back in a week for a checkup, but if everything is good, I can work, just not exert myself because my lungs need to strengthen themselves again.

"Ready, Sloane?" Rip asks, entering the room and pushing a wheelchair.

"Yup, take me home, Daddy," I tease, biting my lip.

"The doctor said no exerting yourself, little girl. Don't tempt me," he growls playfully.

Rip arrived not long after I woke up last night, bearing news that the insurance is sorted, and once the check arrives, I can begin to rebuild. Plans for a new, bigger, and better bar with a kitchen are already forming.

Also the new name was going to be The Ale-mentary School which I thought was punny and hilarious. But now that I’ve survived, I want everyone to know I did. I’ve decided to name the bar Soot & Spirits.

Ripley was not amused, but Atlas thought it was amazing.

The police also paid a visit, taking my statement, and they did apprehend Trina, who now faces charges of arson and attempted murder. I can’t wait to testify against her in court, so she knows who got the last laugh. It sure wasn’t her.

Kevin sent a huge edible arrangement, sending his deepest sympathies and guilt, but he's enjoying a vacation with his ex-wife… which about had me out cold again because who knew he was even married once... not me.

As I recover and rebuild, I'll be assisting Rip at his office, handling the design of Soot & Spirits while lending a hand at Duttin Construction.

And there’s the matter of suing Trina for the emotional and financial damage she’s caused. Branson called in a favor and had his lawyer, Jonas, contact me. Jonas is a fucking barracuda in the courtroom and thinks I have a good chance at getting a chunk of change. Apparently, Trina’s parents are loaded and want this to go away and not tarnish their name.

Again, what the hell?

Lennox Fields, the firefighter who rescued me, also visited before the doctor this morning. He said this was his last shift before he left Detroit and he's so glad it turned out okay. He's headed to the East Coast to be closer to his nephew and the baby’s mom. Lennox is a talker but so nice, and honestly, he saved me, so I'd listen to him read an encyclopedia.

"Come on, Sloane. I've got everything, and I'm ready to get the fuck out of here," Rip declares, taking my hand.

I follow him to the waiting wheelchair, feeling a surge of anticipation as he wheels me down to his truck. Home beckons, a sanctuary where I can begin to heal and rebuild, and I can’t fucking wait to sleep in my bed.

Rip's gentle hand guides me out of the truck and up the porch steps. The house is quiet as we step inside, and for a moment, I wonder if Atlas has returned yet. But then I remember seeing his truck parked at the curb, so he must be around somewhere, perhaps in the shower.

As soon as I enter, the delicious aroma of Cinnabons greets my senses, my absolute favorite treat, especially if they’re drenched in icing.

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