Page 138 of Here With Me

“Probably not.”

Given my history with guns, Damien got rid of mine when I was in the hospital. It wasn’t until years later when I was on the road a lot that I got a new one and kept it secure in my truck.

After we finish eating, I help her get dressed, all with my eyes closed as requested. Then I carry her to my truck and drive the short distance to the family barn.

“I got it,” she says once she gets out, and I hand her the crutches.

It’s not that she can’t use them, but her ribs are still sore. One wrong move and she tumbles to the ground again. Though I wouldn’t let that happen since I’m two inches away.

When I open the barn door and she goes through, I’m back at her side as she hops toward Donut’s stall. As soon as he sees her, he starts whining and squealing.

Noah beams as she slowly makes her way toward him. As soon as she reaches him, she puts a hand out, and he smells it.

“I think he missed ya,” I say softly.

She smiles wide. “I missed you, too, boy.”

Noah pets his neck, then his nose nudges one of her crutches.

“That wasn’t your fault, Donut. None of it was, okay? We’re gonna get the guy who did it. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He leans his head against hers as she continues rubbing him. It’s a sweet moment. Their bond and unconditional trust are unlike anything I’ve witnessed before.

I stand back as they share a few more tender moments.

“Love you, boy. I’ll be back for ya as soon as I can.” She kisses him, wipes her cheek, then turns and walks toward the door.

“Are you okay?” I ask as we drive back to her house.

She stares out her window and nods.

Reaching over, I squeeze her leg. “We’re gonna get justice, Noah. He won’t hurt you or Donut ever again.”

“I wish I could believe that...” she murmurs.

She’s down right now, but I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her and won’t rest until Craig gets what he deserves.

Once we’re back in her house, she lies down and sleeps for a few hours. I rest on the couch, then get started on dinner. I stopped at the store after work and picked up more of her favorites.

She’s quiet while we eat, and I don’t push her to talk, but she doesn’t need to for me to know she’s struggling with this. Noah used to be active all day, every day, and being stuck at home with only one foot and broken ribs is a drastic change. I’ve gone through similar situations when I’d get hurt and have to stay away from riding for weeks at a time, sometimes months, while my body recovered.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Could you unwrap my ankle for me?” she asks after I clean up the kitchen.

“You’re ready for that?”

She’s been doing sponge baths to avoid standing on one foot in the shower.

“I need to wash my hair, and I feel gross overall. Just because we’re on a ranch doesn’t mean I wanna smell like one twenty-four seven.”

“Alright, but you can’t go in there alone. One slip and you’ll snap your ankle.”

“I won’t put pressure on it,” she argues. “I’ll hold on to the rail and wash one-handed.”

“Noah.” I cross my arms and stand firm. “Just let me help you. I can do your hair.”

“You bein’ in there with your eyes closed sounds more dangerous than just lettin’ me do it myself.”

I lick my lips and rub my jawline in amusement. “I’d keep them open.”