The cops come and take our statements, recording a list of everything she's missing. When they leave, I feel even more horrible, because the odds of them finding out who did this, or recovering her stuff, is slim to none.
We pick up everything we can, tossing out anything that's broken. After dumping the last garbage bag, I wipe my hands.
“Come on,” I say, walking up behind her and gripping her shoulders. “You're sleeping at my place tonight.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes puffy and red from crying.
“I'm positive.” Walking her toward the door, I say, “There's no way I'm letting you stay here with a fucked up door that doesn't even close.”
Once in my place, she climbs into my bed and covers up. I lay next to her, wrapping my arm around her. Heather snuggles up close, resting her hand on my chest.
“I can't believe this.” She swirls her finger in the center of my chest. “I never saw this coming.”
“No one does, sometimes shit finds us and there's nothing we can do about it.”
I could have stopped this.
“Yeah, I know.” Yawning, she nuzzles her head deeper into my embrace.
There's a long silence between us. I don't know what to say. I don't want to tell her that I could have prevented this. I don't want to tell her that it's all my fault her place got robbed and she lost everything that matters to her.
But I can make it better.
“I'm going to fix this,” I say.
She's quiet, her breathing slow and steady. She doesn't answer.
“Heather?” Lifting my head, I look down and see she's already sleeping.
She's exhausted, and I don't blame her. Sometimes emotional turmoil weighs on us far more than anything physical.
And as she sleeps peacefully and safely in my arms, I can't even close my eyes to go to sleep.
I know what I have to do. It's worth it for her.
11
Heather
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jumping awake, I look around in shock and confusion. My hands clamp around the blanket as I search for what's making the loud sounds. Looking down, Ian isn't in bed with me.
The clock at the bedside says it's already ten in the morning. I can't believe I slept this late. Scratching my hand through my hair, I walk into Ian's living room, expecting him to be there.
Where is he?
More banging noises come from outside in the hall. Following the sound, I crack open the front door and peek out, only to find Ian.
He's got a carpenter's belt on, and he's hammering a new frame into the doorway. There's a new door laying against the wall, with clean shiny hardware and hinges.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Oh hey, good morning.” He stands up and smiles, slipping his hammer into a loop on his belt. “I'm fixing your door.” He has an excited grin on his face as he takes a long step over the debris on the floor. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me in and kisses me. “I got a few more surprises for you too.”
“You do?” Arching a brow, I tilt my head.
“Yeah. So,” he says happily, taking a step back to the door, “you got your new door here, and I got you new locks, plus a deadbolt—can't be too safe. I also fixed the garbage disposal and plastered the cracks in the ceiling.”
“Okay, wait a minute, what the hell is going on? Why are you doing all this? Shouldn't the landlord be taking care of this? I'm going to call in a little bit, this isn't your responsibility.”
“Well, it kind of is because I'm kind of your landlord.”
“Wait. . .” Holding up my hand, deep crinkles crease my forehead. “You're the landlord? No that's not right, this place is owned by Jenning's Realty.”
“Yeah, Jenning's is my father's name, the building belongs to him.”
“Hold on, I'm confused.” Shaking my head, I fold my arms over my chest.
“My father is a real estate guy. He buys and rents out properties. He bought this place when I was seven. He also owns the old radio station I took you to. Back when he bought this place, it was nice, really nice. Then, when he left my mother, he told Grey and me that he'd give her money if we agreed to take care of the place for him. So, we said yes. And after my father took off, doing God knows what, with God knows who, I got pissed.” He lets out a deep breath as he picks up the new door and lines it up in the frame. “And when my mother died of cancer, we decided to just let this place go to shit. He can't make money on it if he tries to sell it. Not if it's falling apart and months away from being condemned.”
“So you two just thought letting it rot would get back at him?”