Page 52 of Three Hearts Hideaway

But Ava was his before she was Logan’s. If anyone—and he meant anyone—said that she was used up or deserved to be alone, he would work them till they were bloody and broken.

No one talked about their girl that way. No one.

They got a later start than Roman wanted. He texted Ava to let her know. Jerry was stuck waiting for flight plan approval since he’d cancelled Ava’s original return. The all clear didn’t come until the early afternoon. They were lucky to get out considering how last minute it was. Again. Still, he would’ve driven the five hours to the city in his pickup if that’s what was necessary.

A taxi met them at Ottawa’s Rockcliffe Airport—an old military base where Jerry was a member of the flying club—and drove them downtown to The Carlisle, the high-rise apartment building where Ava lived.

Ava buzzed them in, and Logan whistled in appreciation at the lobby. Roman couldn’t blame him. The walls were full paneled wainscotting with black marble accent tiles. A modern chandelier hung from the recessed and backlit ceiling. Plush silver armchairs dotted the front windows, creating cozy conversation areas.

“Not the place I pictured her living,” Logan said, striding swiftly toward the elevators.

Roman kept pace beside him. “I didn’t picture her anywhere. She was just part of our life at the bed and breakfast. Seemed at home there.”

Logan jabbed the up button. “Well, if her job allowed her to live here, I can understand her being in a rush to find another one.”

The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. Roman hit the button for the eighth floor and drummed his fingers against his side. The defeat in Ava’s voice from last night plagued his thoughts. She sounded so unlike the woman who stumbled into his pub nine days ago. He couldn’t help but worry about her.

“Hey,” Logan said, swatting his shoulder. “Get out of your head. We’re bringing her home with us. Even if I have to throw her over my shoulder again.”

Roman frowned. “Again?”

Logan smirked as the elevator chimed and opened.

Roman stalked down the hall, searching for apartment 809. He found it halfway down, and it took all his willpower to knock on the door instead of kicking it down and running inside to Ava.

“Ava,” he called. “It’s us. Open up, please, love. We need to see you.”

A second later, she answered the door. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, curls spilling out every which way. Mascara stained her cheeks. Her baggy t-shirt and pink sweats did nothing to hide her slumped posture. She looked like a woman defeated. In no way would he stand for that.

He gathered her into his arms and held her close, relieved to have her in his embrace after such a shit night. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest.

After a long moment, Logan cleared his throat. “You’re occupying the whole doorway, Roman.”

He murmured an apology and side-stepped around Ava, walking into her home, while Logan greeted her with a kiss on her forehead.

The apartment had walnut cabinets, similar in colour to the hardwood floors. White granite accents and cream-coloured walls rounded out the space. Cozy, warm. Very much like Ava.

Fuzzy blankets and fluffy pillows of various shapes and sizes covered a taupe sectional. Succulents dotted the kitchen and living room, a few hung from the ceiling. Bookshelves flanked the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the other downtown high-rise buildings. She fit in this space well, but the B&B seemed more like her home.

Logan scanned the entryway. “Where are your bags, Ava?”

“Isn’t this a little quick?” she asked, leaning into Logan’s side.

Roman shrugged. “Sure it is. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the correct choice.”

“He’s right. Show me where your bags are so I can get them for you. Then we’re taking you home.”

“What about my apartment? Finding another job?” The worry crept back into her voice.

Roman held out his hand to her, and she left Logan to accept it. “It can all wait. Your apartment will still be here. As for your job, consider this a sabbatical. We’ll figure out the rent for this place.”

She nodded against his chest. “Okay. One step at a time.”

“Bags, Ava,” Roman urged.

“In there.” She pointed to a door off the living room.

Logan disappeared through it. Rustling noises were followed by him emerging with two bags in his hands and one across his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

---