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"Stay with me," I tell her quietly. I'm all too aware that we didn't leave things in a great place this morning. I also don't want to pressure her after everything she's been through today, but the thought of letting her go anywhere without me is unbearable.
Lilah's eyes are large in her face as she searches mine and then nods. I feel a little swell of hope, and for the first time since she left this morning, I take a real breath.
The officer gives us a sympathetic smile, "We'll need to investigate the break-in at your house, but an officer can go with you if you need to collect a pet and some clothes." Lilah nods and the officer talks into her radio asking someone to escort us. I give Olive and Luis my phone number before we leave. Lilah's phone is still in my fridge and even if the police don't want it, I don't want Lilah to carry it until I know for a fact there isn't any spyware on it.
Lilah leaves her Jeep with the police and rides with me. We drive most of the way in silence. I lace my fingers through hers and rest our hands on her thigh while she leans her head back, staring at the ceiling of the car. There's so much to say, but it's a quick trip. I don't think either of us wants to get into it until we're really alone.
It's only when we turn into our neighborhood that she straightens up and looks around. "Wait, whose car is this?" she asks with a laugh.
"Fred Miller’s," I tell her with a grin.
"He let you drive it?" she asks me skeptically.
"I'm not sure I'd describe it that way. I asked nicely, but he wasn't big on the idea until I threatened to send pictures of his dog crapping on everyone's lawns around to the neighborhood group."
Lilah laughs softly. "I love that you'd threaten a salty geriatric for me."
"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Princess." My voice cracks a little as I speak, and I have to clear my throat to hold back a wave of emotion.
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze in response, and it's all I can do not to pull over and pull her into my lap. I'm afraid that if I give into my need to hold her, I won't be able to let go and we'll be sleeping in this ancient Buick for days.
When I turn onto our street, we're greeted by half a dozen squad cars, all parked in front of our houses. Police tape stretches around the perimeter of Lilah's house and my car. Photographs are being taken, notebooks jotted in, and it seems the neighbors couldn't pass up the entertainment. There's a buzz of activity on the outside of the tape, Mr. Miller in the center of it all. He stands on the sidewalk, craning his neck to see what's going on while gossiping with some other neighbors.
He sees me coming and marches over with his hand out for his keys. He snatches them out of my hand, clearly torn between telling me off and nosing for details. I thank him, pushing down the impulse to hug him because I know he'd hate it. Coerced or not, if it wasn't for his help, I wouldn't have been there when Lilah needed me. His dog can shit in my yard anytime it wants. I'll never hold a grudge about it again.
