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“Oh, girl. Are we dressin’ up? Nope. Not a question. We’re dressin’ up. Girl’s night, our boots and our dresses, and I’ll even stick to non-alcoholic drinks just for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Drake ain’t drinkin.’ You’re not drinkin.’ I’m not drinkin.’ But I am orderin’ food, and plenty of it, so make sure you’re hungry.”
“Food, virgin daiquiris, and Drake. Sounds like a good night to me,” I said.
“Now—if my man turns out to be a closeted Drake Blackthorn fan, how much are the tickets?” she asked.
“I can get him in, too,” I said, with a wink. “Just let me know before Friday.”
“I can do that.”
I finished typing up the sobriety plan for my patient and turned it in to Mr. Hart before I packed up my things. Then it was time for me to head home.
Home.
That was what I’d been calling Drake’s house for a little over two weeks now.
I dug out my phone as I made my way to my car. I turned the word over in my head as my fingers curled around the device. Home. It was a word I had hated in the beginning. I had seethed with anger whenever Drake referred to his house as my home, but now it only made me smile. Thinking about going home trickled warmth throughout my body instead of shooting pangs of fear. The concept of home was something that had been decimated for me. Something that was riddled with memories of fighting, depression and unsolved questions. Death and destruction permeated the idea of home for me.
But not now. Not now that I was with Drake.
With Drake there, home meant protection. A comfort. A relaxing environment. Home was sloppy morning kisses and sweet tea on the porch. Home was dinner with Elsie and Tammy and Paul. Home was waking up before the sun just to make love with Drake before he got sweaty on the farm.
Home was then peeling those sweaty clothes off and tasting the saltiness of his skin.
Home was so many things I could never have imagined with him, and as the phone rang in my ear, tears sprang to my eyes.
“Hey there, beautiful,” Drake said.
“Hey, Drake,” I said, with a sniffle.
“Delia. What’s wrong? Where are you? I’m grabbin’ my keys now, you just stay put—
“I’m fine Drake. I thought I’d bring dinner home tonight,” I said.
Silence descended on the other end of the line as that word hung heavily in the air between us.
“Home?” Drake asked.
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“Yeah. Figured I could drive through somewhere. Pick up some pizza or some burgers. Bring them home for us to eat,” I said.
“Home.”
“Yes,” I said. “Home. You know, to your house.”
I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line before he drew in a deep breath.
“I’m actually in the middle of cookin’ us some dinner,” he said.
“And you were just gonna abandon ship and run out the door?” I asked.
“Yeah, if you were in trouble, without a second thought.”
My stomach did flips as I relaxed into my seat and smiled.
