One to Take (One to Hold 8)

“You’re going to have your hands fu

ll when he starts school,” I laugh, touching his little nose.

“I already do!” she groans.

Slayde and Stuart chat like old friends. They’ve been getting to know each other very well in the Princeton office, from what I can tell, and they swap stories of crazy phone calls and unexpected packages.

“It’s like something you’d see in a movie, but worse,” Slayde says, shaking his head. “I never expected her to send me her panties. They weren’t even evidence.”

“Who sent you her panties!?” Kenny’s outraged, and Slayde pulls her to his chest.

Patrick laughs. “Oh, man. Cut and run. Witnesses like that never lead anywhere good.”

When it’s finally time to say goodnight, Lane is asleep on Slayde’s chest, and Kenny is making up the spare room for Patrick. Stuart follows me to the door. We’ve been exchanging warm glances and smiles all evening, but it’s the first time we’ve been semi-alone since he arrived.

“I have something to give you. If it’s okay, I’ll follow you back to your apartment.”

A million possibilities flood my mind, but what strikes me most is I’m not opposed to any of them. “Okay,” I say, giving him a little smile.

We say goodnight, and he follows me out, all the way to my apartment in his truck. When we reach my door, he hesitates.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crowding you. I just don’t want you to have to read this alone.”

My brow lines. Not what I expected. “What is it?”

“Let’s go inside.”

Inside the kitchen, I flick on the overhead light, and he takes a thick envelope out of his coat pocket.

“After your accident, the hospital did a full battery of tests to be sure you hadn’t sustained a concussion or any other type of head injury. They sent the results to your old address.”

Hearing him say “your old address” feels wrong to me. I hold the envelope a moment looking at my name and the condo address. It’s where I should be, where Stuart is. I don’t pursue that train of thought. Rather, I slide my finger under the flap and rip the envelope open. Pulling out the heavy paper, my brow lines as I scan the writing.

“I don’t know what this means,” I say, trying to decipher the medical jargon.

“Here.” He takes it from me. “I’ve had to look at these before on cases.”

He’s quiet as he reads, and I watch his green-hazel eyes move rapidly. His brow is lowered, and I notice he’s had a haircut. The little bend of curls around his ears that made him look a bit like Patrick are now gone. I couldn’t help also noticing tonight how much Lane resembled his uncle. It sent my mind down the rabbit hole of wondering what his little boys would look like. Our little boys…

“It’s good news,” he says, looking up and catching me in my daydream.

My cheeks pink, and I blink quickly to the papers. “What is it?”

“It basically spells out all the different tests they ran, the CT scan… You passed them all with flying colors.”

“That’s good, I guess?”

“It means your brain function is normal and healthy.” He waits as those words sink in.

“They tested it… Why?”

He reaches out to smooth a loose curl off my cheek. “When you fell, they worried you might have a concussion. The doctor was concerned about your occipital lobe. He said it was all routine tests.”

Stepping back, I turn to the living room. I never made it to this room in my efforts to change everything. My mountain of books is still overflowing from the bookcase, and Ganesh is still holding a tray with even more. My beaded lamp is on the end table, and the jewel-toned cushions are all over the place.

“My brain is healthy,” I whisper, looking around.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Mariska.” It’s that strong, confident voice I’ve always loved.