I am all in. And, at least for the moment, it seems that Lindy is calling my bet.
A loud crack of thunder makes us both jump. We break apart, but only just. Her hands still roam my chest, our lips still brush as we smile. Her breath is hot against my lips. I’m about to say something, probably something really stupid like, I love you, when there is another rumble, one louder and closer than thunder.
The whole yard lights up with a flash that feels way, way too close.
I’ve never heard a sound like the one that follows, a tearing, wrenching, terrible craaaaack.
I set Lindy down but keep my arms tightly banded around her as we turn toward the sound. As we watch, the dead oak tree falls right toward the other side of the house. There is a crash and the sound of glass shattering.
I feel the thudding boom in the bare soles of my feet.
Grasping Lindy’s hand, I tug her with me, discarding the wet sheet on the muddy ground. As suddenly and violently as it came, the storm begins to let up, and the angry rumble of thunder recedes.
We reach the other side of the house, and Lindy gasps. The house is still standing, but all the windows on that side are broken. Some branches are fully inside the house. Wet curtains flap through the openings in the wind, which is dying down along with the storm. In places, the wood siding has been ripped away, splintered wood everywhere.
I let go of Lindy’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulder. It could have been worse, especially if Jo were home and we were all inside. But this is her childhood home, and the damage is significant.
Lindy turns to me with wide eyes, her lashes spiky and wet. I can’t read the emotion in her face. “My house.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “I’m so sorry. We’ll take care of this, Lindybird. You and Jo are safe. The dogs are safe.”
“Pat, the unflinching optimist,” Lindy says, lightly pinching my side. “Next, you’re going to tell me you have an extra house just lying around.”
I shift on my feet, bending to scratch my ankle monitor, which is even more uncomfortable when wet. Lindy stops laughing and stares up at me with narrowed eyes.
“Pat—I know that look. What?”
“Actually, I have a surprise I was saving for a rainy day.” I look around with exaggerated surprise. “I guess that ends up being today.”
Lindy brushes her wet bangs out of her eyes. “Cut the suspense! What is it?”
If Lindy protested the things I’ve done around the house, I have no idea how she’ll respond to THIS. Go big or go home, right?
“I’ve been restoring a loft downtown for us. It’s not quite finished, but it’s definitely habitable. Especially compared to this. So, um, surprise?”
The look on Lindy’s face says she’s either thinking of kissing or killing me. When she goes up on her toes, pulling my lips down to hers, I get my answer.
Chapter Thirty
Lindy
I may regret this later, but for the moment, all I can think about is how good it feels to give in to Pat. I’ve waved my white flag, invited him in to storm my castle, and am loving every moment of being vanquished. The weird part is, I may have surrendered, but it somehow feels like I’ve won. I gave up everything, lost nothing, and gained even MORE.
Is this what love is like?
I lean closer to Pat, trying to ignore the way the center console of his truck is digging into my ribs. We need to replace his truck with one that doesn’t have this annoying thing in the middle of the front seats. It’s really cramping my style. Who needs cup holders or storage? Not I!
I’m honestly thankful right now just to have dry clothes on my back. Pat felt like the house was too dangerous to even go inside, so we took the dogs to Val’s, where I borrowed some clothes, and Pat changed into some extras he kept in his car. Val had a lot of questions, which I promised to answer later. I’ll probably need to figure out the answers first.
“You okay?” Pat asks, grinning as I lean my head on his shoulder. “Looks like you’re having a battle with my truck.”
“And losing. How much would it be to remove this console?”
Pat laughs. “Is this where we’re at, now? We’ve gone from you not wanting me to spend money on things for you to you requesting we trick out my vehicle?”
“You don’t have to change it. You could just buy a new one.”
I’m joking—mostly—and I hope Pat knows it. Maybe I need to make sure he knows. Otherwise he might show up tomorrow with a new vehicle. But he seems totally delighted by this new side of me, even if I’ve caught a few flashes of wariness in his eyes. Totally warranted considering my quick flip. And it is quick. I’ve gone from pumping the brakes on everything to going full throttle.
Right now, I am too overwhelmed to question the wisdom in this. My house is basically totaled, and tomorrow is the hearing. My life has all but imploded. Forgive me if I’m putting off all the mental gymnastics and self-examination I should probably be doing. I’m just going to enjoy the moment. Carpe diem and all that jazz. Except I’m choosing to have selective memory about my diem—ignoring the looming issues and seizing Pat’s mouth on mine whenever I can get it. He is a perfect distraction.
Speaking of—my perfect distraction pulls the car up in front of a building downtown and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “If I’d planned this out, we’d have a dramatic reveal.”
“The last thing I need right now is more drama.”
Pat jogs around the front of the truck to open my door. I start to climb out, but he scoops me up like I weigh no more than a sheet of printer paper. I settle into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck.
“Planning to carry me over the threshold, husband?”
Pat freezes on the sidewalk, then tilts his head to study me. I expect a smile, but he’s gone all serious on me. “You’ve decided to break all the rules today, huh?”
“I thought you’d be thrilled,” I say lightly.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Pat says. “I am. You’re just going through a lot, and I don’t want to take advantage.”