Page 53 of Everlasting Promises

I climb to my feet and, without taking my eyes from her, make my way around the counter until I’m in her space. The bowls press against my abs, and I look down into her uncertain gaze. She tilts her head back and swallows roughly.

“You didn’t have to do that, but I’m not gonna lie, I appreciate it.” I flick my eyes between hers. “I know you were uncertain about Rex, so it means a lot to me you trust him in your home. It means even more to me you think enough of him to have bought these.” I take them from her hands, dropping mygaze to her lips. I’d do anything right now to lean down and press my mouth to hers to show my appreciation.

Slow. Slow. Slow.

I break the moment and spin toward the sink to fill one bowl with water and place it on the floor beside the counter.

Still frozen in the same spot, she watches me. “You’re welcome,” she murmurs as she finally moves toward the fridge. “I cooked him some chicken and vegetables for dinner. I’ll just … uh … grab it from the fridge.”

It’s my turn to freeze as she grabs the container and empties it into the second bowl, then places it on the floor beside his water. “You made him dinner?” Rex wastes no time and digs in. He didn’t get to eat either, so he’s starving.

“Yeah. I assumed he’d come with you. I didn’t want him to go hungry.” Her thoughtfulness touches a place deep inside. Her assumption that I’d bring him with me and planned accordingly warms my heart.

“I hadn’t planned to bring him with me, but thank you for thinking of him.” I could keep going with my gratitude, but the microwave beeps, letting us know my midnight dinner is ready.

Hope points to the opposite side of the counter and tells me to sit, then grabs my plate out of the microwave and slides it in front of me. I draw in a deep breath of the delicious smelling dish.

“Beef stroganoff,” she tells me, then tips some milk and chocolate into a saucepan on the stove. “I hope you like it.” She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and passes it to me.

“It smells delicious, and I’m starving.” I collect my fork. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome,” she says easily as she stirs the milk and chocolate on the stove. I take my first bite without taking my eyes from her exposed thighs.

When the first creamy bite lands on my tongue, I moan. I chew the tender beef and swallow, quickly scooping up another bite. “This is really good.”

“Glad you like it. I can’t make it for Evan because he doesn’t like mushrooms.” She pours the chocolate milk into a mug, then pulls out the stool beside me and sits, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. We’re both quiet for a few moments. “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

I swallow the food in my mouth. I guess that’s partly why I came here. I didn’t want to be alone. I needed to know there was someone around. Someone who would listen if I needed to talk. Anne isn’t the first person we’ve searched for who didn’t make it, but her passing is fresh. Normally, I’d go home, have a couple of beers and push everything away. But I don’t have to do that tonight.

“The person we were searching for walked out of a nursing home. She was there because she had dementia, and I’m struggling to comprehend how she could walk out of there with no one noticing. They said she often tries to escape when she’s lucid, but still …” I swallow past my anger at the poor management of the facility. “She was wearing a cotton dress. Didn’t even have shoes on. Security footage showed she walked out at 3:30 p.m. with a group of visitors who were leaving, but nobody noticed her missing until dinnertime.”

Hope gasps. “That’s awful.”

I nod. “I know. Rex and I searched for more than three hours and eight and a half miles before we found her curled up in the darkened corner of the porch of an abandoned house. She was so still and so cold. I covered her with my jacket and held her hand while Rex and I sat with her until my team arrived.”

Hope’s hand slides across the counter between us and covers mine. Her warm fingers wrap around mine, and she squeezes. I flip my hand over and link our fingers together, much the sameway I did last time. Dropping my gaze to where we’re connected, I note how pale her skin looks against mine, how small her hand is, and how right it feels to be accepting her quiet support.

“We found out she used to live there as a child.” That was probably the most heartbreaking knowledge of the night.

I raise my gaze to Hope’s face. Tears fill her eyes and topple over her lashes to trail slowly down her porcelain cheeks. “Oh, god. That’s just so tragic.”

I spin on my stool, bringing me closer to her, and raise my hands to cup her face. Using my thumbs, I gently wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Cheeks that should never glisten with tears, only rise with happiness. Her eyes flick between mine and my lips, and the temptation to lean forward and press a kiss to hers is almost too much to fight.

It wouldn’t take much.

A slight pitch forward.

But then I glance back up at her eyes, and all I see is confusion. It’s like someone’s opened the back door and let the chilly night air in. It’s a reality check. One I needed.

Leaning back, I put more space between us and slide my hands down her cheeks to her neck, across her slim shoulders, and reluctantly pull them away. Turning forward again, I sever the connection, and in my periphery, I see her shoulders sag and hear a soft breath leave her mouth. I’m such an ass. Touching her like I have the right to.

Grabbing my fork, I scoop up more food and nod. “Yeah. Rex and I have had a few searches over the years that haven’t ended well, but this one felt … different somehow.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Hope murmurs.

I focus on eating my dinner while Hope drinks her hot chocolate. No more words are spoken, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Rex has finished eating, so he’s lying on the floorwith his head resting on his front paws, his stomach full and satisfied.

When I’m finished eating, I collect Hope’s empty cup and my plate and carry them to the sink to wash the dishes.

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