Chapter 63

RILEY

Four hours and thirty-nine minutes later, I stepped out of Eric's truck and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, I was home.

"Don't move," Eric warned. "I'll help you into the cottage."

I glanced at the short journey from the truck to the back door. Eric had practically parked on my veranda. "I'll be okay."

"No, you won't." He wrapped his arm around my waist while my mom stood beside him, smiling.

"It's not funny," I whispered.

"One day it will be."

Eric looked from me to my mom. "Are you ready?"

Kathleen pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and rushed ahead to unlock the door. Eric had gone over our arrival like a general rallying his troops. As long as Mom didn't push the wrong code into the alarm pad, we'd be fine.

"All clear," Kathleen yelled from the doorway.

With Eric's arm wrapped around my waist, we slowly made our way onto the veranda.

"Are you all right?" Eric asked.

"I'll be fine."

"Bring Riley in here," Mom said as she disappeared inside. "The sofa will make a nice resting place while I tidy his room."

"My bedroom's fine, Mom."

"It won't take long. A tidy house is a tidy mind."

The rumble of laughter from Eric's chest was good to hear.

"It's all right for you," I whispered. "You're living on the other side of the cottage."

Eric gently placed me on the sofa. "Lucky me."

I was too exhausted to ask what he meant. The journey home had left me feeling drained. Every bump in the road jarred my arm, and my leg throbbed.

"Stay here," Eric told me. "I'll get the table out of the truck."

I leaned against the cushions Mom had rearranged. The doctor had discharged me from the hospital on one condition: when I wasn't moving I had to keep my right arm elevated. On the way to the cottage, we stopped at the general store, and Mom bought a small table that we could use to elevate my arm.

I looked around the living room. The tension in my shoulders unraveled, my mind relaxed, and I managed a small smile.

Mom bustled out of my bedroom. "Your room's ready. Where's Eric?"

"He's bringing the table inside."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

I shook my head. "It's okay, Mom. Sit down and relax."

"I'll sit as soon as I've brought our bags inside." A smile lit her face. "It looks like we have a visitor."

Sherlock padded into the living room, his brown eyes looking at me and then at Mom. From the moment he saw me sitting inside Eric's truck, he'd been super quiet.

"It's okay, boy," I said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sherlock stopped beside the sofa and sat on the floor, resting his head on my lap. I rubbed between his ears, trying to soothe whatever memories were making him sad. His big brown eyes stared up at me through his lashes, and he let out a heartfelt sigh.

"Sherlock was worried about you," Mom said with more than a little awe in her voice. "The poor baby. He must have remembered what happened to Mike."

My eyebrows rose. "You know about Mike?"

"Eric told me. It was such a terrible loss." She patted Sherlock before heading to the back door. "I'll be back in a minute."

Before Mom left, Eric stumbled through the door, table in one hand and a suitcase and carry-on in the other. "This is your luggage, Kathleen. Where would you like it?"

"Here will be fine. I'll get the suitcase Jonathan brought to the hospital."

While Mom was outside, Eric frowned at Sherlock.

"I think he's worried about me," I said. "I'm not sure how to reassure him that I'm not going anywhere."

Eric knelt on the ground beside the big German Shepherd, stroking his back and sighing when Sherlock stayed where he was. "Time is probably the only thing that will heal him. He wanted to go to the hospital with you."

"I didn't know."

"You were unconscious."

"Did he think I'd died?" I whispered.

Eric's slow nod tore at my heart. "I should have realized what was happening. He was quiet at the kennel, too."

Mom came inside with Jonathan's suitcase. "That's everything out of the truck. Can I get you a drink, Eric?"

He looked at Sherlock. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to get Sherlock home." He placed an orange polka dot cushion on top of the table. "Would you be able to move the table beside Riley once we're gone?"

"Of course, I can," Mom said. "You know you can always spend time with us. It's been a traumatic time for everyone."

I could swear I saw tears in Eric's eyes. "Thank you. I have to do some writing, but I'll stop by before I go to bed. If you need anything, let me know. Come on, boy."

Sherlock's head swiveled toward Eric. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to obey. But years of training overrode what he really wanted to do. For all his size and sharp teeth, Sherlock was the biggest softie I'd ever met.

"Bring Sherlock to see us tonight. It might make him feel better."

This time, I knew I saw tears in Eric's eyes. I didn't want to embarrass him by asking if he was okay in front of Mom, but I'd make sure I asked him tonight.