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“I am. I can stay home if you don’t want to go with him,” Brody says as he scratches at his arm, and I can tell he needs help.
“No. I would never want you in pain.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll go with Lucas.”
“You have keys?” Lucas asks as we come to a stop.
I look up at the building.
I don’t remember it.
Shouldn’t I remember a place I called home?
“It’s nicer than your last place,” Lucas comments before he gets out and walks around to my door. He opens it and then offers me his hand. I place mine in his, and he helps me out, then places a hand around my waist to help steady me as we walk inside. The place where his hand is touching tingles, sending shockwaves throughout my body. I want to tell him to remove it, that his touch is too much, but I say nothing as part of me likes to feel him this close to me.
When we get to my door, Lucas holds out his hand, and I place a set of keys onto his palm. He unlocks the door, not letting me go as we walk in.
The apartment is… nice.
“This is mine?” I ask as I look around. A brand-new couch sits in the middle of the living room with a throw rug on the floor in front of it. The kitchen is just beyond with a neat white counter.
“That’s my guess. It’s for sure nicer than your old dump,” he comments.
“You’ve never been here?”
“No, you moved here after us.”
“Oh.” I go to pull away, but he keeps his hand on me as I look around. I move toward the single bedroom with him right behind me, his hand still on my lower back. When I open the door, I smile. “It’s nice.”
“It is,” he agrees. There’s a four-post bed with pink sheets and throw pillows—way too many of them. A bedside table is situated on either side of the bed, and a small closet is open at the other end of the room.
“I’ll just grab some clothes. Do you think you can find a bag for them?” I ask.
Lucas nods, reluctantly lets me go, then leaves the room. When he comes back, I have my drawers open and a few clothes on the bed. He gets to work packing them before he walks out again, returning with some items from my bathroom and packing them as well.
“How are you feeling?” Lucas asks as he zips up the bag.
“Do you not have work?” I ask. “I’m sure you have better things to do than look after me. And I’m feeling fine, thanks for asking.”
“I’m my own boss, so I set my own hours. And right now, I have work covered.”
“What is it you do?”
“Well, I’m not a doctor like your fiancé.” His mouth lifts at his inside joke, but he doesn’t answer my question. “Let’s go, I want to start dinner.”
“You cook?”
“Among other things,” is all he says as he throws the bag over his shoulder, his hand once again resting on my lower back as he guides me out.
“This feels weird,” I say as we get to his car. He puts my bag in the back seat of his flashy car as I climb in the passenger side, then he slides into the driver’s seat before pulling away.
“How so?”
“I don’t even know you, yet here I am in your car, going to your place.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “It’s not normal, right?”
“You needed someone to look after you. Your brother is your only family, and he has to get help. You’ve stayed with me before, and right now, I am your best option,” he says as if it’s a matter-of-fact answer.
“Why do I get the feeling you would have forced the option on me anyway?” I ask, turning in my seat. “I feel like you always get your way. Am I wrong about that?”
“You aren’t wrong. But with you, that isn’t always the case.”
