Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Later, Lynda.”
He shot a text off to Wade before he swung back on the road on his way to Lillian’s house.
He debated what to tell her.
The existence of her parents’ things was going to be a big deal. The journals, even bigger. Just that they were there to be had, not getting into the fact that they’ve opened up a time portal to sixteen years in the past.
But depending on what light they shed, she wouldn’t get them back, more than likely, until the investigation was closed, and maybe not even then.
That said, that morning they had nothing but two bodies and theories, and now they had physical evidence and witnesses.
So it messed with his head to give her hope when this all might lead to nothing.
But Harry was going to tell her.
TWENTY-THREE
You’re You
Lillian
When I heard Harry pull up in my drive, I hustled out the side door to the garage and hit the garage door opener.
What I always thought was hilariously Americana, my house was tiny, and my garage was nearly as big as my house. Set back on the lot, it was two-car with a massive storage room and a laundry room at the back.
Easy for Harry to park his truck next to my Subaru, even if he had one of those big duallies.
When he got out, he came right around to me, tugged me into his arms and dropped a sweet, light kiss on my lips.
I’d had Ronetta all day, Trey and Jenna part of it, texts and phone calls from people I cared about telling me I was in their thoughts.
But until right then, standing in Harry’s arms, I’d been riding an undercurrent of feeling everything was wrong. The air smelled wrong, the sky looked wrong, food tasted wrong.
And now everything felt right.
“What can I help bring in?” I asked.
He let me go (alas), turned and opened his passenger side door. He handed me a couple of carrier bags.
He then shifted to the back door and hefted two thirty-pound bags of dog food on his shoulder.
He’d totally earned all the many swells and plains of muscles in his chest (and arms, I couldn’t forget those arms).
“I’ll leave one of these out here. If you could get water sorted for them,”—he tipped his head toward what I was holding—“their bowls are in there, that’d be good.”
“Gotcha,” I replied and went in.
While I was unpacking the dog stuff, Harry came in and out, leaving one of the sacks of dog food, then returning with his duffle and a number of hangers covered in clear plastic containing his uniforms draped over his shoulder.
He stopped and looked down at the new doggie station I’d created. There were three brown and cream checked mats that had been personalized, one said Lucy, another Linus and the last Smokey. Now, all those mats had stainless steel bowls filled with water on them.
Slowly, Harry turned to look at me.
“I wanted them to know they’re welcome,” I explained.
A number of things happened in my body when his expression changed. I’d seen a version of that look on his face a lot the night before, and that morning, but there was an added nuance that, yes, even where I was right then in my life, made my nipples bead.
And he hadn’t seen the dog beds I’d bought yet.
“How did you get them personalized in a day?” he asked.
“Jenna does that in house. I called her this morning, she had them ready by the time we swung by this afternoon.”
Still carrying his duffle and uniforms, he came to me, and I got another light kiss.
He then started across the room but stopped dead again when he saw the three big, fleecy, pillowy beds, which were the new décor in the living room.
His neck twisted so he could look at me, and that expression on his face was about a million times stronger.
“Did you also buy filet mignon?” he asked.
“I knew I forgot something,” I joked.
He smiled then returned on his journey to my bedroom.
I followed him.
He dropped the duffle.
I opened the door to my closet where there was now a couple of feet of extra space, and several free hangers.
“You can put your uniforms there,” I told him.
Harry did that.
When he did, I stated, “Okay, this is also not stalkery euw. While you’re with me, you’re more than welcome to live out of your duffle bag. But…” I moved to my dresser and opened the second drawer, the one I’d emptied earlier. “You can also unpack so you’ll feel more at home. No pressure,” I said hurriedly. “I’m not making any statements or being weird or—”
I stopped talking when Harry walked up to me and put his fingers to my lips.
“You’re tidy,” he said quietly, dropping his hand. “I get it. You don’t want my shit all over the floor.”