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Amelia’s mother glanced at Rory and the arm he had around her daughter. “I can get a hotel room, if it’s privacy you need.”
“Mom!” Cheeks heating, Amelia released her mother’s hands and fiddled with her hair. “Not appropriate,” she muttered under her breath.
“What?” Her mother gave her a quelling look. “You didn’t even tell us you had a boyfriend. If I stay, we can catch up. I can get to know Rory.”
Amelia wished the sidewalk would open up and swallow her. She tried to straighten and put some distance between her and Rory. “As usual, you’ve totally read into things. He’s my friend.” She motioned at the gathered group. “They all are.”
Rory stiffened. Cal opened the door to the backseat, acting like a bodyguard, and making a subtle gesture for her to get in.
“I love you, Mom.” Careful to not lose her balance, she kissed her mother’s cheek, and then accepted a kiss from her stepfather. While he could never take her own father’s place, he’d been a good dad to her growing up. “You, too, David. I’ll plan a trip home, soon. Meanwhile,”—she squeezed his arm—“take care of her for me, will you?”
Her mother acted offended, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Please. He couldn’t find the glasses on the end of his nose without me. If anyone needs taken care of, it’s David.”
The crowd shared a chuckle, David’s robust laugh the loudest. “She’s right.” He put his arm around her mother’s shoulders. “But I’ll do my best, Ames.”
No one but her family ever called her by that nickname, the sound of it bringing back a lot of memories, both good and bad. Her father had given it to her, but after his death, she’d refused to answer to it for many years. He’d been a kind, gentle, and quiet father, and they’d all been devastated at his loss.
A few years later when her mother had found David and a new chapter in her life, Amelia had acted out, becoming rebellious. Her teenage years had been a trial for all of them, enduring a particularly bad episode involving her and a friend nearly dying in a car crash. It had been David who’d reminded her that she wasn’t the girl she’d become. She was her father’s daughter—a sweet and caring soul who’d fallen through the cracks. While the dry cleaners didn’t make much profit, he’d convinced her mother that Amelia needed grief counseling. It had saved her life.
Rory and Cal helped her into the backseat, Rory and Beatrice joining her there. Cal rode shotgun upfront with Connor. As they pulled away from the curb, she waved to her parents, seeing an orderly retrieve the wheelchair. David was still hugging her mother, and Amelia smiled. He, too, was a kind, gentle, and quiet man—except that belly laugh of his—and she owed him a great deal.
“You’ll be staying at SFI,” Beatrice announced. “We’ve already got a room on the third floor ready for you. It’s small, but you won’t be there long.”
“That’s not necessary.” Seemed like she was saying that a lot the past few days, yet relief swam through her that she wasn’t going to be alone in her apartment. The thought of that made her uneasy, as if the mugger might track her there and do even more harm.
Which was ridiculous, but there it was.
“It absolutely is,” Beatrice argued. She and Cal, along with their daughter, spent all their time at SFI and were in the process of building a house at the new compound. They’d given their previous one to Dr. Montgomery and her husband, Ian.
‘Musical houses,’ Vivi had referred to it, and Amelia had wondered what it would be like to have her own. Not a cramped apartment or townhome, but a single family dwelling like she’d grown up in. Because of the fire that had taken her father’s life, she’d always had mixed feelings about such a place, but found as she got older that she longed for one. Maybe even a yard, a spot for flowers, a garage to park a car in.
She’d dreamed about it plenty of times, and even done searches on a realtor app. A few months back, she’d attended several open houses, and then returned to her cramped apartment to create a Pinterest board with ideas, right down to flower boxes in the windows.
Pulling the trigger on buying one, however, hadn’t happened. She had the money; it wasn’t that. She’d thought by now she’d have a family like her sister, but her relationships hadn’t worked out, and she was as devoted to her job as Cal, Beatrice, Rory, and the rest of the employees at Shadow Force. She lived and breathed helping others recuperate from their physical injuries, and she liked the staff and her patients.
Calling them friends was the truth—having Beatrice tell her parents that Amelia was family had made her heart swell with pride. Theywerea family—one based on common goals and interests rather than blood.
Besides, she didn’t have the energy to worry about a bigger place, and she’d realized she probably wouldn’t spend much time there anyway. Being independent was one thing; being alone was another.
Maybe I should get a cat.
“It’ll make it easier for us to take care of you,” Rory said, interrupting her train of thought and raising a hand to fend off her anticipated protest. His thigh was warm against hers. “And we all know that you’re as capable as the rest of us, but like you’ve so often told me, every once in a while, we need a bit of help.”
Amelia glanced at him, seeing the sly grin on his face. Once again, he was enjoying giving her a dose of her own medicine.
Thank goodness he hadn’t taken offense with some of the things her mother had said and done. Yesterday, when Rory had given them some privacy, her mother had quizzed her about him. Amelia had explained that he was a patient, and she’d gone on and on about his amazing progress. Her mother had made a few polite comments, but seeing Amelia’s excitement over him had leaned in and given her a chastising look. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, isn’t he?”
As fate would have it, the man in question had returned at exactly that moment, overhearing her mother’s comment. Even now, thinking about it, Amelia felt heat rise in her cheeks. “You love that I’m a hobbled horse, don’t you? Don’t think for one moment I’m at your mercy.”
“Never.” They passed high-rises and Connor moved them smoothly from lane to lane, turning where necessary. The man next to her leaned in, lowering his voice. “I hate the fact you’re in this predicament. Hate the fact that this happened, period. I’d give anything to go back and cancel our dinner so you were still walking around without a cast.” Beatrice softly cleared her throat, as if reeling him away from the edge. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, and the wicked grin returned. “But having you at my mercy? Yeah, I can get used to that.”
She’d known since she’d gained consciousness that this was eating him up. She didn’t understand why he was blaming himself when it was her mistakes that had left her open to the attack. She bumped his elbow with hers. “You are not to blame for what happened.”
He ignored the comment, shifting his attention to the passing scenery. “Your credit cards are cancelled and new ones have been issued. I reported your stolen driver’s license to the DMV and you can get a new one as soon as you’re up and about. The locks on your apartment doors have been changed, thanks to Moe, and we’re keeping an eye out for any fraud or identity theft using your information.”
He was all business again. In a way, that was good. “Any success catching the guy on video?”
His features hardened, his focus continuing to stay firmly on the direction they drove in. “It’s like he knew where the cameras were and avoided them, but one of them caught him for a three-second shot. That’s it. He was wearing black, had a hood over his head, and wore gloves. The frame is blurry and grainy due to the poor lighting. Moe and I have done everything we can to clear it up.”
