Page 80 of Coming Home to Maverick

“You don’t need to smile so big about it.”

“He’s just imagining how good his pillows are gonna smell.”

It was Maverick’s turn to blush crimson. And Bailey laughed. “Oh, it’s so good things are getting back to normal.”

The day and night passed quickly, and everyone else went home except for Bailey. She pulled the truck up to the outpatient door and helped the nurse load him into the back seat.

“I’m fine. I can climb into my own truck.”

“We’re just being careful so you don’t pass out on the pavement.”

He rolled his eyes but submitted to the hospital rules. When at last he shut the truck door and Bailey pulled out of the parking lot, he let the relief wash over him. “Let’s go home.”

“Yes sir.”

But she didn’t take him straight to the highway. Instead, she made her way through downtown Fort Worth. They pulled up alongside the Cowtown Coliseum at a red light.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“Just looking.”

He stared out the window. The truck moved forward, and signs for Billy Bob’s flashed in neon. Bailey pointed at the signs. “See that place?”

“The dance place?”

“Yep. I sang there once.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and I thought I saw your truck out back. That’s the first night I thought I might be brave enough to come back.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“’Cause all I could think of was running to you and jumping in your arms. I knew if I could feel that again, I’d be okay.”

His eyes held pain, and she felt it in her core.

“And then I felt the same thing when you were lying there with your eyes closed, not responding to anything we were saying. I knew that if I could just see your eyes open and feel your arms around me again, everything would be okay.”

Her eyes stared into his through the rearview mirror. He looked shaken. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m not gonna sign the contract.”

“What! Bailey—”

She shook her head. “You think I want to be that lonely person traveling from state to state, doing a concert tour all by myself?”

He looked away. “But what if you need to try?”

“I don’t.”

“What if all you did was record an album?”

“It’s never all you do. They’re gonna want a tour to sell the album.” Her mind was made up.

He nodded. Then he grimaced.

“What? Are you in pain?” She heard her own anxious tone and didn’t care how overprotective she sounded.

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