Page 109 of Yolo

I felt along the wall as I moved, familiar, yet still unfamiliar at the same time, with the layout of Garrett’s house.

“Honey,” Mom said. “I’m going to take you to work today since you’re on my way. Daddy and Garrett are going to put all the new tech they bought for you up. I’m picking you up today, too, unless you need to stay later.”

“Okaayyy…” I drawled. “What more do they need to put up? I thought all the voice activated things came in the mail last week and were already installed?”

“They were, but I ordered more.” Garrett sounded sheepish. “After telling your ex-landlord that you were leaving, he gave me a few more tips on what I can do to make the house more blind-friendly.”

I felt my heart start to swell.

“Garrett…” I whispered, emotion clear in my voice.

I felt his hands cup my face, then he was there, hugging me tight.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like this home isn’t everything you need,” he whispered back. “I want you to be safe. I want you to be comfortable. And I want you to live here, happy, with me, for the rest of our lives.”

I sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay.

But it was futile.

The man just knew exactly how to be everything that I ever needed.

“I love you, Garrett.”

Then, surprising the hell out of me, he twirled us around and said “I love you” in all seven languages that I knew.

It literally melted my heart.

“Hey, hey,” Dad said. “None of that now. We don’t need her becoming even more of a fall hazard because she’s dizzy.”

Garrett laughed and set me on my feet. He didn’t let me go until I was steady.

And even when he did, he never strayed far.

God, my man was the best.

My man was the worst.

“I’m fine, Garrett!” I growled.

“You’re not fine,” he grumbled. “You were punched in the face today!”

I threw up my hands. “It was a kid!”

“The kid was fourteen!” he countered. “He was a fuckin’ man!”

He had a point.

The kid that’d punched me was fourteen, and from the feel of it, was strong enough to punch the hell out of me.

“He’s arrested,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but he still got a punch in before he was!” he argued.

I’d accidentally stepped into the path of a gang banger trying to make a run for it.

I’d been invited out to lunch by a couple of coworkers, and we’d had a lovely time. On the way back to my office, I’d entered into the side building at the same time that a suspect was let out of the cruiser.

During his time in the back seat of that cruiser, he’d gotten one of his hands loose from the cuffs the officer had put on him—the kid was double-jointed and had practically folded his thumb in on itself to get free—and had taken off the moment that the door was open.

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