Page 62 of Girl Lost
Trinity’s face. Those haunted eyes. Luna felt the years of guilt and regret she’d carefully suppressed. She couldn’t keep this from Corbin any longer.
He had to know.
22
THEDRIVE TO CORBIN’S HOUSEwas quiet,punctuated only bythe map program’s occasional directions. Luna debated whether to tell him about Trinity. The words hovered on the tipof her tongue,threatening to spill out at any moment. But as she glanced over at his sleeping form,headresting against the window, she decided against it.
Let him rest. He had enough to deal with, including the meeting with the commissioner tomorrow. It could wait. She just hoped she wasn’t making another mistake by keeping silent.
At Corbin’s house, she parked his car in the garage and helped him out. Her arm went around his waist to guide him inside. He stumbled against her as they walked.
“Sorry.” He winced. “I’m so sore.”
“It’s been a long day.” She eased him down on the couch and arranged the pillows behind his back. “Let me get your medication and some water.”
“Cups are beside the fridge. There’s a filtered water faucet beside the regular one.”
She crossed the room to the kitchen where an island with whitemarble countertops dominated the area. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, walked to the sink in the island, and filled it with water.
Corbin’s place wasn’t the sparse bachelor pad she’d expected. His home was warm. Cozy. Travertine tiles stretched across the open living space, softened by strategically placed rugs that tied the room together. The furniture was light, accented with comfortable-looking chairs. Pops of green brought life to the space. Beyond the sliding glass doors, the pool glistened under the moonlight.
What really caught her eye were the plants. They were everywhere. Green, lush, and thriving.
Ferns cascaded from hanging baskets. Succulents lined windowsills. An impressive fiddle leaf fig stood proudly in one corner. Nothing like the sad little apartment where she’d lived in Pakistan. The few plants she’d attempted to keep alive had been little more than twigs in pots.
This ... this nurturing, almost domestic, side of him ... Corbin was different.
All those late-night study sessions, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over textbooks. The whispered promises of a future together, dreams spun sitting on the beach after their early morning run. Stolen kisses between classes, the thrill of young love filling her every waking moment.
This could have been their life together. Their home.
She handed him the water and perched on the ottoman. Pulled the pill bottles from the paper bag and read the tiny labels. Antibiotics. Pain meds.
She twisted the caps off, tapped out the correct doses, then held them out. “Here. Two antibiotics now, then one every twelve hours. And one of these for pain. Only if you need it.”
Their fingers brushed, and Luna felt a jolt of electricity that had nothing to do with Tasers or danger. That was ridiculous. She shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be letting those old feelings creep back in. Corbin might have the domesticated life they’d always dreamedof, but it still didn’t erase the past. He might have wanted this, but he hadn’t wanted it with her.
“What are those?” He pointed to the third bottle.
“Antinausea meds. The painkillers can make you queasy.”
“Let’s skip those for now.” He swallowed the pills, chasing them with the last of the water. “Well, I’ve met my insurance deductible for the year. All in one day.” A weak smile. But at least he was trying to make light of it.
“Rest. The medication will kick in soon.” She leaned forward to take the empty glass from him. “Oh, we never ate. Can I make you something before I go?”
“I’m starved. But you don’t have to cook. There are some prepped meals in the fridge.”
Luna raised an eyebrow but went to investigate. The fridge was impressively well-stocked, unlike her own perpetually bare one. Glass containers with colored lids lined the shelves.
“What are all these?” She pulled out a container, examining the contents. Some kind of chicken dish, it looked like, with roasted vegetables on the side.
“Prepped meals. It’s the only way I can eat healthy with my schedule.” Corbin gestured with his chin toward the fridge. “Green containers are salads, blue are fish, red are steak, purple is comfort food.”
“You even color-coded them?”
He shrugged. “It makes it easier to grab and go. I don’t have time to think about what I’m eating when I’m running out the door.”
Okay, this was a level of organization that both impressed and intimidated her. It was ... attractive, in a way she hadn’t expected. This glimpse into his life. So organized and put together.
