Page 22 of Final Vendetta

Despite the fact that she was getting better every day, she still struggled to get comfortable in a sitting position due to the injuries to her ribs. To ask her to be in pain for over two hours? I wasn’t going to do that. So I hired a private plane to fly us the hundred or so miles down the coast.

“I thought we were going home,” she continued.

“We are,” I said evenly, keeping my eyes on the road.

“But we just passed the exit for La Jolla.”

“I can’t take you to your place right now, Imogene.” I stole a glance at her to gauge her reaction. “There are reporters camped outside.”

“What about your house?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, either. All things considered, I think we both deserve a fresh start. That’s where I’m taking you. To what I hope can be our fresh start.”

“Fresh start,” she repeated, as if testing the words on her tongue. Then she reached across the center console, linking her fingers with mine. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me, too,” I murmured, bringing her hand to my lips, savoring in the feel of her skin.

I’d never take it for granted again. Not after those few harrowing hours when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel her warmth. Hear her voice. Taste her lips.

This was my second chance. I was going to do what I should have done months ago. I was going to stop living in the past and only worry about moving forward.

We drove in an easy silence up toward Del Mar, and I navigated to the gated community where Henry found the perfect beach bungalow for Imogene and me to live, at least for now. I’d only been here once, and only after Henry already bought it. I trusted his judgment, and he certainly delivered, especially as I led Imogene inside and her eyes widened at her surroundings.

The bungalow was one story, which was exactly what she needed right now. The open kitchen and dining room flowed seamlessly into the living room, the far wall made up of sliding glass doors with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. While it was much smaller than the house I’d been living in, I much preferred this place. It had more charm and personality instead of being some huge monstrosity built on the shore. The only reason I bought the other house was because Liam had hoped to buy it.

But now that I was buying somewhere with Imogene in mind, I wanted it to be something she’d like.

Somewhere she could imagine living the rest of her life.

Somewhere like we once dreamed of building together.

“Do you want to see the bedroom?” I asked as she took in the soothing blue and gray tones of the living room.

“That would be great.”

“This way.” I led her down a hallway just off the foyer, steering her to the last door on the left. “It’s not nearly as big as the primary bedroom in my other house, but it still has a great view of the ocean.”

“It definitely does,” she said as she padded across the room and toward the French doors that opened onto the back patio.

“I had Henry bring a bunch of your things from your townhouse here, but if you’re missing something, make a list and I’ll grab it for you. Is there anything you need right now?”

She faced me. “Actually, now that my doctor has cleared me, I’d love to take a bath and wash my hair. Wash the hospital off me, if at all possible.”

“Right. The bathroom’s in here.” I moved toward the open door and flicked on the light, illuminating the space.

While it wasn’t as massive as the ensuite bathroom at the other house, it was just as opulent. Smooth marble vanity countertops gleamed under the warm lighting. An oversized shower with multiple shower heads beckoned from one side of the room, while a luxurious jetted tub awaited on the other.

“That tub looks like heaven,” she sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having a bath, especially now that my incisions have healed enough for me to do so.”

“I’ll give you some privacy then.” I started to turn, but her voice stopped me.

“Actually…” She trailed off, her frustration evident in the lines of her face.

“What is it?”

“It’s just…” She worried her bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to wash my hair in over a week. It hurt too much to lift my arms over my head. Still does. I…”

“You need help,” I stated, finishing her thought.

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