Page 75 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
He slid his free hand around her waist and inched her closer. “They’re professionals. They understand the common courtesy of saying thank you.”
Unable to hide her smile any better than she was able to keep her arms from sliding around his neck, she said, “I suppose for the sake of not being rude...”
Planning to just brush her lips across his for a quick kiss—because, really, he was holding a baby, bleeding, and there were people around—she closed the tiny space between them.
Short and chaste. That was the plan. No chance for sparks. No opportunity for fireworks. Nothing long and drawn out.
So then why couldn’t she stop kissing him?
Because she hadn’t planned for this. She hadn’t planned for his lips to be as warm and inviting as the first bite of a fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie. Or for the scent of his aftershave to be as familiar and welcoming as a pine tree on Christmas Day. Or for the feel of his shoulders, solid beneath her fingers, to be as comfortable and natural as if they were sharing a bowl of popcorn on the couch together.
She hadn’t planned for one quick kiss to so quickly feel like home.
“Uh, I’d say Henry’s doing more than okay, ma’am,” a voice said from the doorway.
Edith broke the kiss and leaned back, giving her a clear view over Henry’s shoulder.
Crowded together in the entryway stood the paramedic, his mustache twitching above a smile; Sharon, her eyebrows raised above amused eyes; and James, his mouth slanted above his walkie-talkie.
A young shaggy-haired man elbowed his way inside a second later, wielding a miniature notebook in one hand and a smartphone in the other.
“We seem to have gathered an audience,” Edith whispered.
With his hand still planted around her waist and the baby still secured in his other arm, Henry slowly turned around.
The shaggy-haired guy grinned. “Don’t move.”Click.If possible, his grin grew even wider as he examined the image on his phone. “This is going to make a great picture for the article. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
The next couple hours passed in a blur. Henry gave a statement to the police, then attempted to help with the cleanup while the shaggy-haired man—whom he learned was named Joel, studying journalism at the community college and currently doing his internship at the local newspaper, covering obituaries and weddings though he longed to someday write a Pulitzer Prize–winning article—hounded Henry with questions.
“Where did you find the inner fortitude to confront a dangerous criminal with no regard to your own safety? It was almost like you were a fireman racing into a burning building. Have you ever trained as a firefighter?”
“I think I saw the movieBackdraftonce.”
After helping Edith sweep up all the bits of glass, plaster,and splintered wood—not to mention Chinese food—from the floor, Sharon demanded they go home. “The baby’s taken care of. The police have Tyler’s dad in custody. I’ve got a call in to the insurance company, so I’ll be here all night anyway. We’re good. Please go. And for goodness’ sake, Henry, put some ice on that eye.”
Henry, placing a light touch to her back, led Edith down the front porch steps. He ignored the pain in his knuckles, the pressure around his eye, and the mounting soreness in his ribs. He didn’t even want to acknowledge his knee. Tomorrow morning was going to be rough getting out of bed, no doubt about that. But tonight Henry didn’t care.
Tonight all he could think about was the fear that had slammed against his gut the moment he stepped inside the house and realized Edith was in danger. The fight-or-flight response that had kicked in a second later—thankfully fight. And the one-two punch that had sent the intruder to his knees and down half a dozen stairs. Granted, the man’s inebriated state had probably tipped the scales in Henry’s favor, but still. What a great punch.
Henry inhaled a deep breath, welcoming the tight grip on his ribs. It reminded him of the feeling he’d get in high school after a Friday night football game, taking pride in his pain. The hits and bruises never mattered when they were earned toward a victory.
And tonight was a big victory. Tonight he played the part of the hero. Tonight Henry didn’t fumble the ball.
The sound of cicadas surrounded them as Henry dropped his palm from Edith’s back and stepped around the truck to get to the driver’s side. In high school, he’d always goneout for pizza after a game. Might not be a bad idea tonight. Unless Edith really had her heart set on Chinese. He opened the door, about to slide in, when he noticed she hadn’t followed him to the truck.
She stood on the sidewalk, shuffling her feet. “Well, thanks again.” She swept her bangs out of her eyes and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “And Sharon’s right. You should definitely put some ice on that eye. Maybe take an over-the-counter painkiller or anti-inflammatory or...” She shrugged. “Something.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.” Henry leaned his forearms over the side of the truck bed, confused as to why she wasn’t getting inside the truck. And why she was saying things that made it sound like she didn’t plan on getting inside the truck. “Where are you going?” he said, panic overriding the confusion when she started taking steps away from the truck.
“Kat’s house.”
“What about dinner? I thought—”I thought I was a hero. Don’t you want to have dinner with a hero?Henry cleared his throat. “I thought we were going to talk.”
“Yeah, but...” Edith waved to the house. “Aren’t you sore? You’ve gotta be sore. I mean, your eye’s all swollen, your eyebrow’s still oozing—you really should have let that paramedic look at it—and you’re limping. A lot. You’re sore, Henry. Just admit it.”
“Fine. I’m sore. But I’m also hungry.” He pushed back from the truck and straightened. “C’mon, Edith. Eat some food with me. I’ve got a frozen pizza we can throw in the oven. Won’t take long to cook.”
A car turned the corner, its headlights washing over the conflicted expression on Edith’s face. “Okay. But only because I’m starving and might very well die if I don’t get some sort of sustenance in the next fifteen minutes, and I know for a fact the only sustenance I’ll find at Kat’s house is an expired bottle of Thousand Island dressing.” She aimed her finger at Henry. “But as soon as we’re done eating, you’re icing that eye, taking some medicine, and going straight to bed. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
