Home To You by Robin Kaye

God for it.”
    “I know that—intellectually. But I—”
    “Needed another good cry. I understand. It’s not a big deal, really.” Her hair smelled like jasmine and warm, sleepy woman, and felt silky when it brushed against his hand as he massaged her neck and the base of her scalp. “I hiked over to Jaime’s this morning. I needed to tell him I’m ready for more building materials, and we talked about your Jeep. He’s agreed to work on it at his place and keep mum.”
    “But I don’t know how much—”
    “We’re going to work it out in trade. He needs a hand, and I’ve offered to lend it.” He didn’t feel the necessity to expound upon what exactly Jaime required a hand with—namely filling his bank account with the cost of parts and labor.
    “I do have money—I just don’t know how much.”
    He couldn’t help but laugh. “It looks as if we have that in common.” He might not have his old knack for numbers anymore, but he’d spent years ensuring that his sister had more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life, without worry. He’d done the same for himself.
    The look on her face told him he’d missed the old solidarity target. “We really do have an amazing amount in common. Both of us recently turned corners in our lives. Neither of us are the people we were before we came here.”
    She shrugged but didn’t pull away.
    “And we both have the gift of time—”
    “Aka unemployment.”
    “If you want to mince words, be my guest. Still, wehave time to take stock of our new situations, figure out who we are, and envision what we’d like our futures to hold.”
    She didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. “Kendall, most people spend their lives walking down the same road. Every day, they drag themselves through the same rut. After a while, that rut gets so deep, you can’t see anything but the ditch you’ve made. If either of us was in a rut, we’ve been blasted out of it now. And we have the opportunity to investigate all the new and different paths available to us.”
    “I never saw my life without David, not once. He’s been a part of me for so long, I’m not sure who I am without him. It’s . . . I don’t know . . . scary.”
    “All new things are scary. Scary and exciting. That’s how we know we’re alive. We’ve survived, we’ve changed, but we’re strong enough to get back up after being knocked down, or, in my case, knocked out. This is a new beginning for both of us.”
    “Are you sure you weren’t a therapist in a past life?”
    “Definitely.” Although he’d seen his fair share of therapists after his parents’ death. “I just turned my corner earlier than you did. I’ve been at this longer. I’ve reached the point where the shock and memories, or lack of memories, have worn off. You’ll get here—probably a lot faster than I have.”
    She twisted in his arms, hers coming around him, and pulled him in for a hard hug and held on. “Thank you.” She whispered in his ear and then pulled back, looking embarrassed, as a flush rose from the plunging neckline of her nightgown he hadn’t noticed until that moment.
    Holy hell. He wished to God he hadn’t noticed, or at least not while she sat on his lap. He swallowedconvulsively. The warmth of her skin heated the silken material, burning his hands splayed across her back.
    “When I came here yesterday, all I’d wanted was to be alone, but now I’m so thankful I’m not. I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Me too.” His voice rasped through his throat, sounding like a metal canoe dragged across a pebbled beach. He slid her off his lap and onto the bed. The skirt of her nightgown pulled taught around her thighs, and he bit back a groan.
    “Jack? Are you feeling okay?”
    He stood and avoided looking at her. “I’m fine.” But his voice sounded foreign, gravelly, and strained.
    “You’re flushed. Do you have another headache?”
    The answer depended on which head she