I take her to her place as mine is still a crime scene.
She curls up against me in bed and sleeps. I hold her feeling the gamut of emotions: fear, love, anger, relief.
Faith has been through more trauma than most.
The fact that she was attacked in my home is…killing me.
She wakes up to use the bathroom and then goes right back to sleep. It’s the painkillers. I’m glad that she’s getting rest.
While she sleeps, I make an emergency appointment, with the therapist she started seeing two weeks ago, for the following day. The sessions are over Zoom, so it’s convenient for Faith, who refuses to drive my truck, even though it sits by Ripley’s for most of the day. She’s saving up to be able to buy a car.
I tell Georgia what’s going on and assure her that as soon as Faith can receive visitors, I’ll let her know.
Ricky doesn’t give a shit that Faith’s sleeping and shows up. He peeks into the bedroom.
“The kid’s okay?”
“Yeah, Ricky. She clocked the asshole with a cast-iron pan.”
Ricky laughs. “She’s a ballsy lady.”
Ain’t that the truth.
Kyle and Lo come by later in the evening while Faith and I are arguing about how she absolutely cannot go to work.
“It’s just a sprain. No biggy.” She holds up her wrist.
“Really? Then do this.” I twist my wrist around.
She sighs.
“You can’t make drinks.”
“I can’t miss work, Cain. I need the?—”
“By God, sweet thing,” I grit out, “you bring up money again between us and I’m going to spank the daylights out of you.”
Her lips twitch. “Did you just threaten me with a spanking?”
I flush. The woman is driving me mad.
Thankfully, that’s when her doorbell rings.
Faith hugs Kyle, taking him by surprise. “Thank you for being there for me.”
He looks like he just won the Governor’s Medal, beaming with pride. I know he feels guilty about what he did to Faith because of Paula. I think now he feels redeemed, and rightfully so.
We sit at the small dining table, with coffee, tea, and a box of Mrs. Hanley’s cinnamon rolls. That’s the other thing. All day,we’ve had an influx of people dropping off food to help Faith recover.
Not sure how cinnamon rolls are supposed to do that, but they’re Hanley’s and I’m not saying no to those delicious babies.
“Silverton is pissed off that one of our own was assaulted,” Lo says as she breaks off a piece of a cinnamon roll.
I glance at Faith. Her eyes are bright with emotion at the words “one of our own.”
Yeah, sweet thing, you’re one of us now! And you’re mine.
“Can we talk about what happened?” Lo asks.
