Page 66 of Love Finds Home

“Yes.” Simple. Direct. No hesitation.

“Did you ever think maybe his mom got him throw pillows? Or a sister? Cousin? Friend? Ex-girlfriend?”

“Would you keep your ex-girlfriends throw pillows?”

“Can we stop talking about fucking throw pillows? What the fuck did you say?”

“I asked him if he was her stalker in college, idiot.”

“And he denied it?”

“Yes, he denied it. So at least he isn’t a fucking moron, right? But I believe him. He was really wrecked at the thought ofupsetting or scaring her. Swore he’s going to stay away from her and only deal with the gallery in a professional capacity.”

“You think he can do that?”

“I think he thinks he can do that. He also said he’d already called his therapist and realized how over-zealous he was being. That he understands he can’t expect Elle to love him back as quickly as he loved her, and realized that he pushed her away. That it’s all his fault. Blah blah blah.”

“So what’s our plan, then? If he’s so accepting of his fuck-ups, what’s the next move?” I ask, pulling a fresh t-shirt and boxers from my bag. A shower sounds really nice.

“I got a guy on him. He’ll make sure he doesn’t double back and hit the gallery again.”

“Do you think we should have called the cops?”

“I’m going to do more than the cops would,” he growls. “Nate’s bringing the equipment up Sunday, and we’re going to go over it with our shit. If we find anything, we’ll call the cops.”

“You really don’t enjoy working with them, do you?” I laugh.

“They make a mess of everything. They ruin any evidence with their old school fingerprint kits and shit. Makes it twice as hard to collect the actual evidence. How’s Elle?”

“Quiet.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah,” I huff out a laugh. “No shit.”

“You sure you know what you’re doing there, man?”

“Not a fucking clue, but you can’t make me leave her side.”

“Not trying. But if she’s in a fucked-up headspace and you’re in a fucked-up headspace, she could get hurt. You could get hurt. Where’s your head at, Ranger?”

I sigh the sigh of a man about to face the firing squad. “I wish I knew.”

“Say it out loud,” he demands.

“She’s…” I start, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s different. Special.”

“I swear if you say she’s different than other girls, I’ll come down there and kick your ass.”

That gets a small, humorless laugh from me. “You know what I mean. She makes me feel something, and I don’t like feeling.”

“You mean she makes you hard?”

“No!” I answer loudly, offended on Elle’s behalf. “Well, yes. But no. She makes my heartbeat increase when she’s in the room. When she’s not ‘on’ and sits in silence, I feel her pain. It’s like a tangible thing in the air, and I want to take it away from her.”

“Oh, shit,” Joker mutters under his breath. “Fuck.”

“Yes. Exactly. So what do I do? I have to make sure she’s safe, Joker. I have to.”

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